She’d later accuse me of being distant in the beginning of our relationship. She was right. In reality, my X and I had been officially done for over a year, but emotionally I was still stunted. I kept my heart guarded and I entered this relationship with much greater hesitation. We’d date for months before I ever met her son. She never pretended like he didn’t exist. In fact, he was her priority. If she had him, I wasn’t allowed to come around.

The more we dated the more she told me about him, but she didn’t want us to meet until she was sure about where we were going. It was like I was trying out for an extremely difficult job position. That was fine. I enjoyed getting to know her and seeing her when I could. I liked her a lot. The slow transition into Love was a much healthier paced experience  than before. I was used to daily fights with little or no provocation or reasoning. I had forgotten what it was like to be in a “normal” relationship.

We’d date for months before I realized or to be more accurate, accepted how much I liked her. It all came to a head when she told me about another guy that she had been putting off seeing seriously because of me. I tried to pretend I didn’t care. I even figured I wouldn’t care. But I did. I cared a lot. Actually, I was outright pissed.

I realized that if I wanted a serious relationship I was going to have to make a serious commitment. I was terrified at the idea of putting my heart on the line, yet again, but I knew if I wanted her in my life I was going to have to step up to the plate. We agreed to see each other exclusively. Still, she was clear about her expectations. She had a son. He came first, always. She was a package deal. Could I accept that? I assured her I could. I told her I didn’t see a future in Texas and I eventually planned to move. Could she accept that? She said she could. A few weeks later, she allowed me around her son.

Good or bad, instead of weeks my job search and personal obligations would take years to unfold. In that time, although off and on due to other events, she would be my only steady girlfriend. I grew to Love her. I grew to Love her son. Despite my shortcomings – outside of my parents, I’m not particularly close with much of my extended family – her family took me in as one of their own. Inevitably, her family (and mine) began wondering when we were going to take the next step in our relationship. They weren’t the only ones. We weren’t getting any younger and if the relationship didn’t have a future she wanted to know. Technically, she deserved to know. She always had to consider the effect her decisions had on someone more important than herself – her son.

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As we struggled to figure this out, another obstacle reared its head. Over two years into our meeting one another, I finally got the job offer that I’d been waiting for – and I’d have to move out of state to pursue it. We tried to dance around the obvious, but as the time came closer for me to move the difficult choices I would have to make became clear: 1) I could pass up the offer and stay with my new makeshift family; 2) Take the job offer and them with me; 3) Leave everyone behind.

I faced a number of difficult personal choices, the details of which I can’t share, but I ultimately decided to leave everyone behind. It was one of the most difficult decisions I’ve made in my life. I didn’t realize how difficult, until the weeks until my departure became days. We were shopping at IKEA. Somehow, I had managed to convince myself that I was making the right decision. A lot of people, my own family notwithstanding, were disappointed that I had elected to go at things alone. They figured I was doing the same old selfish WisdomIsMisery thing. I had convinced myself I wasn’t but I don’t know if I was telling myself the truth.

I figured this was the best decision for everyone. Moving myself across country was proving difficult enough without putting additional strain on our relationship, our families, and her young son. Or so I thought. I didn’t think it was the easiest decision. I thought it was the right decision. For weeks I had taken solace in that decision. I had withstood intense questioning from her. I had stood less intense, yet equally difficult questioning from her son. He couldn’t understand – and for the life of me I couldn’t make him – why I was leaving him and his mom behind. He wanted to know what they did wrong, so they could fix it, and we could all stay together. What was so difficult about that? … I never could come up with a a good answer for him.

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As I sat there watching their playful attempt to make light of the situation while knowing that they would have to move on with their life together, but without me, everything hit me like a ton of bricks. Maybe it was the fact that I was moving across country with no family or friends to work a job that I wasn’t even sure was going to last (there was 6-months of mandatory probation). Perhaps I realized that I was leaving the state I grew up in my entire life. It could have been that I was leaving the woman I Loved and her son behind. It was likely all those things and more that caused me to crumble under the pressure of it all. I had tried with great measure to pretend that none of these things were bothering me as much as everyone else. I had stared in the face of many tear-filled eyes without breaking as I stubbornly pushed forward with my “plan,” until my outward facade finally failed me. In the middle of the store, I broke down crying. In that moment of weakness my step-family gathered around me, but they didn’t join me in tears this time around. Instead, they both stood strong while I leaned on them for support. It turns out, if I had ever let them, they would have been ready to support me the whole time.

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I’m not positive what all I could have done differently in this situation. For myself, I wish I had a better grasp of how deeply involved in the relationship I was instead of pretending along the way that I could control and regulate my emotions as I saw fit. Further, instead of ‘playing house’ with a woman with a child, I should have better gauged the potential longevity of our relationship. She told me early, and I underestimated her statement, that she was a package deal. I knew this going in but I failed to realize that going out, I wouldn’t just be breaking up with her, I’d essentially be breaking up with a family. The easy fix, for some, is not to date women with kids. It was years later before I realized the full impact I had not only on my X’s life but on her son’s life as well.

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I don’t believe avoiding the relationship would have been the correct decision. I loved my X and I do not regret being with her by any means. I only regret how things ended – and I am assuming I could have done something different to make the ending any better. However, I do wish I had better explained to her son why his mother and I weren’t working out and made it crystal clear, to the degree possible, that it wasn’t his fault. If you don’t understand why this is important, then you should read this article from a 16-year old on the affect his father’s leaving his mother had on him. Even though I wasn’t the biological father, for a time, I played that role to the best of my limited abilities. Unfortunately, I played it poorly. If I ever play such a role again, I plan not to make the same mistakes.

If you have a child, what are your expectations for the roles of those who you date? If you don’t have a child, would you date someone who does? Why or why not? Have you failed or succeeded in this role before? As a single parent or step-parent, what tips or advice would you offer others if they date single parents or consider taking on the role of a step-parent in the future?

Editor’s Note: You can also check out my guest post for a talented writer who has been featured on sites such as Essence and MadameNoire to name a few at MissAleck.com, Church Girls…We’re Not Avoiding You, We May Just Not Be Into You.

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