courtship of Eddie's father, real-life version

The half life of a post-break recovery seems to be something on the order of a year. that's about how long it took for people to start asking me if

a. I was dating someone.
b. I was interested in dating.

These questions inevitably lead in one of two directions:
a. If the answer is no, the wizened suggestion that it is time to start looking.
b. If the answer is yes (or even a vaguely committal maybe), the person begins to tell you about the friend they think you should meet.

More often than not, the person in Case Bb is a woman. This fact is more or less irrelevant in the end. In any case, the brief dossier follows — age, hair color, brief description of interests, occupation, and any other essential details. The next question is whether I am interested in meeting the "perfect" friend. There is no good answer to this question, particularly if you're in a small social circle like I am. First off, there is a fair chance the meeting will happen anyway. Second, if it doesn't, the mutual friend will "inadvertantly" make it happen on the chance that we will hit it off, and I will change my mind.

Regardless of how it happens, dating as a full-time single parent is a dicey proposition. At least in my case, I have found that I want the connection, but that it is very hard to juggle all the priorities. And making trade-offs is no fun. Then again, there really isn't much choice but to suffer through the introductions and the choices if one wants to build a new, emotionally-healthy life.

Maybe one of these days I'll wrap my head around some of these experiences to write cogently about them again. Or to write again, period.