Fiona

DAY ONE

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8:59 a.m. I am finally alone. I’ve drop uniped my two children at their various schools and am walking back to my apartment with a hot coffee in hand.

9:10 a.m. As I turn the corner onto my block, I walk past a celeb. He’s always very cheerful and “normal.” My neighborhood is filled with celebrities. It’s very exciting.

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10 a.m. Get to work at my home office. I’m an architect. I’m also newly divorced. So most of my days, whether I like it or not, are split between work and dating apps. I share custody with my ex, who lives down the street. It’s as amicable as can be given she left me for someone she met at work (she’s also an architect). They are still together though I try not to know too many details. It wasn’t a physical affair but it was an emotional one, which is arguably worse. The truth is, we got married right out of college and drifted apart. She did us both a favor by ending things, but I’m a bit overwhelmed by the world of dating as a 43-year-old single man with a dad bod and a bald spot.

5 p.m. Pick up my kids from their after-school activities. We stop at a diner for dinner on the way home. The extent of my home-cooking includes French toast and grilled cheese and that’s about it.

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9 p.m. With my kids asleep in bed, I respond to some messages on the apps. One girl asks if I want to come over and “party” tonight. Is “party” still code for doing drugs? I am in over my head with most of these ladies. I don’t respond. I set up a drinks date with one woman, Maggie, who is a very pretty single mom in the area. I sort of recognize her but I’m not sure from where. I’m not that excited by it — she seems slightly depressed.

11 p.m. Maggie and are texting a bit about our lives and our divorces. She’s very long-winded in her texts. I now know more than I needed to about her ex, even the fact that he was a crap lover. Now she’s telling me about her therapist. Okay, I can’t deal with this right now. I need to go to sleep. Also, I’ve worked hard to feel happy and stable over the last year when the divorce became official, and this stuff from her feels energy-zapping. But let’s see.

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DAY TWO

5 a.m. My 5-year-old is awake, so I am, too. He is my more emotional child and is not only awake, but awake and teary because he wants “mommy and daddy BOTH!” This is the shit that breaks my heart. I let him watch a TV show so that he’ll stop crying and I can make myself a pot of coffee. I’m not sure if that’s lazy parenting but it’s the best I can do at the moment.

7 a.m. I take a shower in the hopes of waking up. I’ve jerked off in the shower pretty much every morning of my life, since at 14 or so. I try to imagine Maggie, as a test, but … it’s a boner-killer. Not a good omen for tonight’s date.

8 a.m. My ex takes the kids to school this morning. I hug them good-bye. Whenever this happens, handing them off to her, I fight back the tears. Sometimes I can’t believe this happened to us. I come from divorced parents and I swore that would never be me. And yet.

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12 p.m. In the office today. I’m a partner at my firm so my role is slightly more corporate than creative at this point. A lot of Zooms. A lot of lunches. I wear a suit. Sometimes I miss being a hungry and scrappy young man instead of a smooth and shiny bossman. But I’m finally making decent money, and I have a corporate card, and an occasional car service, so there’s that.

4 p.m. Maggie has suggested a new taco spot in Brooklyn that is BYOB. I tell her I’ll bring the wine. So I sneak off to the wine store and purchase something nice and enjoyable … I have a feeling I’ll need it.

7:30 p.m. Maggie is already at the taco place. My first impression of her is … head of the PTA? There’s just something so “Mom of the Year” about her. But I mean, look at me? I’m not exactly Harry Styles pulling up. One of my kids says I look like Phil from Modern Family, so let’s go with that, but balding.

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8:30 p.m. As Maggie drones on, I am drinking the wine and wondering if I want to have sex with this woman. We finish the first bottle of wine, as I’m sure she’s asking herself the same dubious question about me and trying to drink to find answers, and we decide to go to a bar next door for more cocktails.

9 p.m. She’s loosened up a bit. I order us negronis. While drinking, she says, “Should we go home together? Let’s just figure that out right now.” I’m literally like, “Check please!” YOLO, right?

10 p.m. We got to my place because it happens to be about three blocks closer. We open the door to my apartment and fortunately feel drunk enough to start going at it. She’s an animal! She starts talking dirty right away. She wants to sit on my face. She wants me to bite her nipples. I’m actually struggling to keep up with her demands, but I can’t complain.

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11:30 p.m. We are both naked, sweaty, and satiated. She gets herself dressed and says, “Thanks for that.” And then she’s gone.

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DAY THREE

8 p.m. The joy of sleeping past 5 a.m.!

9 a.m. Nursing my hangover while trying to process what exactly happened last night. I’ve slept with a couple women since my divorce but that was pretty wild. I’m not even sure if the sex was good for me. It was technically pretty raunchy and “hot,” but Maggie also scares me, I think.

11 a.m. I’m too hungover to think clearly and try to focus on work. I have a lunch soon and need to be in tip-top shape.

1 p.m. Nice lunch in midtown with clients. I never talk about my personal life with work people. My colleagues and clients know I’m divorced but I simply refuse to talk about dating or sex or anything even close with anyone.

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3 p.m. Maggie is texting. She wants to know what I’m doing tomorrow. She has tickets to a show in the city. Again, I’m not sure if she’s the sexy freak of my dreams or a scary mom I don’t want to engage with.

6 p.m. I honestly didn’t have time to text her back until now, but finally I write her that I have my kids tomorrow night so it won’t work. She writes back within two seconds, a thumbs-down emoji. Then she says she can suggest some great babysitters for them. Yeah. She’s a lot.

9 p.m. I’m still hungover so tonight I just watch basketball and order in sushi.

10 p.m. I match with a French woman, Cleo, from the neighborhood. Also a single mom. She seems like the opposite of Maggie. Aloof. Private. Busy. I’m into it.

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DAY FOUR

8 a.m. I pick my kids up at my ex’s place this morning to walk them to school. From the little I know, she and her new boyfriend aren’t living together because she feels it’s too soon to do that to the kids. But this morning, I see that he’s there for breakfast. We shake hands hello, and for the sake of my kids, I act Read more...

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