“Three Dates and a Revelation: I’m Good”

Author’s Note: In the spirit of Valentine’s Day I’m telling on myself by sharing a few dating missteps and a lesson from marriage. Because, baby, the wedding is just a day, it’s the lifetime afterward that deserves real preparation.

My first attempt to wade back into the dating world—after years of divorce—could’ve easily doubled as a comedy night at The Apollo. Truth is, growing up in a strict church environment never gave me much of an education in romance. Dating felt like a language I was supposed to know but had never learned to speak.

My daughters caught the faintest spark of interest in my eyes and decided it was time to nudge me forward. “Try online dating,” they said, as if it were as simple as ordering a pair of shoes. So, I tried.

The first connection was a military man whose words arrived only by email—distant, delayed, drifting through digital space. I knew that story wasn’t meant for me.

The second was a Pastor who claimed he’d been divorced for fifteen years. But something in me—my quiet, tuned-in intuition—whispered otherwise. And sure enough, the truth revealed itself in the most modern way possible: through a Facebook Live. As he talked to his audience, a woman kept commenting boldly, repeatedly, that he was her man.

So what did I do? Exactly what any woman with common sense and a Wi-Fi connection would—I messaged her and asked, straight out, “Is he your husband?”

My third attempt was with someone I met at church—
which should have made things simpler, right?
Wrong. Spectacularly wrong.

He slid into my life the same way he slid his phone across the banquet table that night—
quietly, confidently—
asking for my number as if we were already a chapter meant to be written.

We talked. We shared.
He asked if I was married.
“No,” I said.
He said he was a widower,
and he carried proof of his sorrow in the pages of his Bible—
a photograph of his late wife tucked gently between Psalms and Proverbs.

He told me he was from Africa,
working tirelessly to bring his children to America,
painting a story threaded with hope, loss, and devotion.
It all seemed noble enough.
True enough.
Human enough.

We went out a few times.
There were small flickers of possibility—nothing bright, but not yet dim.

And then… drum roll.
This man—this church man, this soft-spoken, grieving father—
had the audacity to ask me for $1,800.

In that moment, the whole illusion cracked like cheap glass.
And I realized, with a clarity that almost made me laugh out loud,
that some of these men weren’t looking for love at all—
they were looking for a nurse,
or a purse,
or both wrapped up in a woman with a kind smile.

And I thought to myself,
“Oh no, absolutely not. Not today. Not ever again.”

Or maybe the lesson is simpler than all of that—
maybe it’s that I’m good all by myself.
Whole. Steady. Rooted.
With friends thrown into the mix,
male or female,
the kind who bring laughter, light, and real company
without asking for $1,800 or a rescue mission.

Maybe the truth is, I don’t need romance
to validate my worth
or fill my days.
My life is already full—
of daughters who look out for me,
of friendships that feel like warm porches on summer nights,
of peace I had to grow into
slowly, stubbornly, beautifully.

And if love ever arrives,
it will come gently—
without schemes, without secrets,
without sliding a phone across a table
or hiding a wife in the margins of a Bible.

But if it never comes?
I’m still good—
better than good.
I’m living, learning, laughing,
and walking forward with my own two feet
and my own hard-earned joy.

Mama Wisdom Reflection-“Baby, life will send you all kinds of characters—
the smooth talkers, the storytellers,
and the ones who think you were born yesterday.
But wisdom says this:
you can entertain a moment without inviting it to stay.
You can smile, step back, and keep your peace intact.

Because the older you get,
the more you learn that your joy is too expensive,
your time too precious,
and your spirit too seasoned
to be anybody’s nurse, purse, or second choice.

Walk forward with your head high.
If love comes, fine.
If not, you’re still winning—
because you’ve learned the sweetest truth of all:
you are whole all by yourself.”