Dad’s House

I already know what you’re thinking. How on earth can I write about dating four people at once when most single parents can’t find the time to date one person? I’m here to tell you, the roadblock isn’t time, it’s desire.

Easy for me to say, seeing as I’m dating zero women at the moment. But two summers ago when my kids were traveling with their mom for a month, giving me loads of free time, I did an experiment.

I gave up on my search for the ideal partner, and simply dated to have fun.

I met four women – two through friends, one a stranger I approached in day-to-day life, and one online (an online dating success that wasn’t sarcastic.) Each was different from the others – there were a couple of single moms, a couple of non-natives, a 20-something, two 30-somethings, a 40-something, a few highly educated, one of them not. (All looked cute and sexy in a summer dress.)

Don’t get me wrong, I’m not polyamorous or a player, I wasn’t swapping bed partners each night. In fact, I only slept with one of them. I simply spent time planning and doing fun activities with whoever was available. Forget The Rules and The Game. I called whichever of them I was in the mood to see, whenever I liked, for whatever activity struck my fancy.

I’d call Bachelorette #1 (B-1, for short) on Thursday for a weekend hike. I’d call B-2 on Friday for drinks that night. I’d call B-3 for a bike ride any day of the week. I’d plan dinner with B-4 several days in advance. If they couldn’t meet, I found out when they could. And – this is key – as long as there weren’t conflicts, I always made myself available.

By not sleeping over, it was easy to keep things light, and we all could date non-exclusively. (It wasn’t sexless – B-2 and I fell into a booty call relationship where we slept with each other while we both looked for someone else to date long-term. We agreed we’d stop the booty part as soon as one of us got involved with someone. It worked great for a few months, and there were no hard feelings when things ended between us. I didn’t tell the other 3 bachelorettes about this arrangement. I figured there was no need, since I wasn’t sleeping with any of them.)

By dating four women, I always had something fun to do. On the rare occasion none of them was free, I didn’t stress about a lack of plans. I hung out with other friends, or enjoyed alone time, and tried again later.

With my kids gone and the time obstacle removed, I was able to focus frustration-free on desire. I didn’t ask, Who would make the best partner? I asked, Who did I want to spend time with now? The answer changed depending on the day, activity, mood.

When my kids came back, I kept dating the four women. I was less available, but by then they had gotten to know me and were willing to see me even if it took a few weeks to meet. To help things, I allowed myself to occasionally go out on custody nights, as long as I returned home at a reasonable hour.

How did it end? B-2 met a guy, and she and I stopped our liaisons. Soon after, I decided to get more serious with B-3, and we dated for a few months. First, I told B-1 and B-4 that I had met someone who I wanted to pursue a more serious relationship with. They understood, and B-1 is still a good friend.

To recap, here are the keys to dating four women at once:

• Keep things light and activity focused
• Don’t involve booty, unless one of them is your FWB
• Be open to a variety of new activities
• Make yourself available any day or night of the week
• Have the desire to date, relate, and have fun

Who knows, maybe the zero women I’m currently dating will turn into four sometime soon. It’s all about desire.

If you liked this post, you might also enjoy:

• Feminine Energy is a Very Good Thing
• A Creepy Writing Vibe
• What Does a Divorced Single Parent Know About Successful Relationships?
  
• Scarlett Johansson in a Sexy Threesome
  

© 2008 DadsHouseBlog.com. All rights reserved.

Del.icio.us |   Digg it |   Reddit |   Stumble it |   Subscribe to Dad’s House

Will Smith, Johnny Depp, Brad Pitt - they have looks, fame, fortune, and everything else People Magazine wants us to dream for a major film star. And each of them is a dad. But which of them is the Hottest Daddy Blogger?

Oops - last I checked, none of them has a blog! And that gives me a major leg up on them in the Bloggers Choice Awards competition for Hottest Daddy Blogger.

Now’s your chance to help launch my modeling/acting career. Just click, login, and click again to vote. My publicists (i.e. my son and daughter) will be thrilled.

Err, I’m on the right.

(And I suppose if I have to explain that, I should keep my day job and focus on the blogger part of the nomination… )

Will Smith photo, some rights reserved. Johnny Depp photo, some rights reserved. Angelina Jolie and Brad Pitt photo by Steve Granitz/WireImage.com, some rights reserved. Raider Nation tailgate photo by my drunk-ass friends.

© 2008 DadsHouseBlog.com. All rights reserved.

Del.icio.us | Digg it | Furl | Reddit | Stumble it | Yahoo My Web 2

This past weekend I attended a kid-focused event with my children and 1,400 other families. Talk about feminine energy. There were moms everywhere. (Dads, too. I’ll get to that.)

The last time I was surrounded by so many women was last fall at Book Group Expo in San Jose. The expo allowed book lovers to discuss books, drink wine, eat chocolate, and rub shoulders in a salon setting with authors like Po Bronson and Elizabeth Gilbert. Of the 1,500 conference attendees, there were maybe 20 men, 19 of whom were seniors. I exaggerate, but it’s safe to say I was a hot commodity wherever I went.

I hadn’t gone to the expo to meet women, I was merely a writer who loves books, and as it turned out most of the women were married. But I couldn’t ignore the magical feeling of being in the company of so many women. I even texted a female friend of mine who couldn’t make it, and told her, I’m in heaven!

As a single parent I of course miss having a built-in partner, companion, lover, and friend. The expo reminded me of another thing – simply, that women are different than men. Women add different energy, thoughts, emotions, cares, concerns to my male perspective. I left the expo inspired to find a girlfriend, someone I could bring around my kids and allow fully into my life. (Being in Silicon Valley where the ratio of single men to women is about a zillion to one, this is no easy feat.)

So this past weekend when I found myself once again surrounded by estrogen, I was reminded of the lack of feminine energy in my life. This time, though, with husbands and kids around, I felt a melancholy twinge of sadness. These were people who’ve been married a decade or two. No one was bickering or fighting. Everyone was enjoying a beautiful day, celebrating their kids. I used to have all that. While I have a great life with my children, I admired the love, respect, admiration, and support the moms and dads gave each other.

I wish I could say I left the event inspired to find a girlfriend. But after eight years of divorce, and as I move through my forties, I find it tougher to meet single women I’m attracted to who are okay with my having children and would welcome an instant family. For me to continue accepting my situation, and to thrive as a single dad, means not getting my hopes up.

Still, as empowering as it is to be a single parent, I’d totally welcome a woman in my life. Feminine energy is a very good thing.

© 2008 DadsHouseBlog.com. All rights reserved.

Del.icio.us  |   Digg it  |   Furl  |   Reddit  |   Stumble it  |   Yahoo My Web 2

My twelve-year-old son and his friends are showing a nascent interest in financial planning. They want to do more with their money than simply save up for the next new skateboard deck. And so I tried teaching them about investment risk.

I told them about interest-bearing savings accounts and certificates of deposit. I explained the basics of stocks and bonds and mutual funds. I introduced concepts like return on investment, venture capital, sweat equity. I showed them a graph of Google’s stock price as it rose and dipped and rose again.

Serious looks, nodding heads. These boys want to get rich. (As my son’s friend says, money doesn’t buy happiness, but it enables a good lifestyle!)

To test their comprehension of the material, I asked them how a person their age might invest a hypothetical $1,000.

“Something conservative like a savings account,” they said.
“But wouldn’t you want something with higher growth potential?” I asked.
They shook their heads. “No, you want the money to be there, no matter what.”

That wasn’t what I wanted to hear. Most financial planners would advise riskier high growth investments when you’re young. With time on your side, you can weather the ups and downs of a changing market while keeping the faith that things will ultimately go up and to the right.

I tried a different tack, and asked how a 95-year-old man should invest his life savings.

“Something super high risk like stock in a startup,” they said.
“But wouldn’t the old man want to be sure his money was there, no matter what?” I asked. “After all,” I explained, “he’s so old, he can’t work anymore. His savings is his only source of income.”
They shook their heads. “He’s gonna die soon, so what does he care? He might as well try to strike it rich and leave a ton of money to his grandkids. If things don’t work out, his family can take care of him.”

Tell that to seniors living off a fixed income portfolio.

Why are these 12-year-olds giving investment advice that’s the opposite of mine? Does the new generation have different expectations about money? Or is this a Silicon Valley thing (where we live), where it’s ingrained in high-tech culture to get rich quick by hitting a financial home run?

Maybe I’m just a lousy teacher.

© 2008 DadsHouseBlog.com. All rights reserved.

Del.icio.us  |   Digg it  |   Furl  |   Reddit  |   Stumble it  |   Yahoo My Web 2

When my girlfriend and I broke up last November I figured it was over for good. I’d been around the block enough times to know that rebounding with an ex was a bad idea. Still, when she texted me for booty in early March, I didn’t say no. And so began a rekindling that never quite caught.

On a recent weekend when I came down with a fever, her true colors came out. She texted me for booty, and when I told her I was sick, she said she didn’t want to catch anything and would stay away. (My ex-wife, on the other hand, upon learning I was sick offered to go to the store and get me whatever I needed. For the record, my kids have a wonderful mom.)

Of the many ways to end relationships, I’m wondering which I should use…

• Ignore her – I could simply stop calling, and not pickup when she calls. This would include a ceasefire on texting. Pros: we broke up once, and this avoids us having to go through that again. Cons: it’s rude, immature, and doesn’t bring closure.
• Text her – since the rebound was restarted by her texting me, it seems fitting to end it the same way. Pros: painless, faceless, quick, surgical, and brings closure. Cons: it’s rude, immature.
• Phone her – she and I have already talked about our lack of future as a couple, and how anything we do together is strictly for fun (a not uncommon scenario.) Steering the conversation from going nowhere to it’s over wouldn’t be too hard. Pros: we’re already pretty straightforward with each other on the phone, and this would end it for good. Cons: it’s rude. When you end an intimate relationship, shouldn’t you look your intimate partner in the eye? (Although, she did end things last November with a phone call.)
• Tell her in person – the stand-up thing to do. Pros: mature approach. Cons: we’d probably sleep together before breaking up. And then again after, for good time’s sake.

Maybe I should just let things drift… Not stress about the lack of chicken soup when I was sick… Don’t throw the booty-call partner out with the bath… After all, it’s hard for a single parent to find a lover who knows that your children come first. (And even harder for full-time single parents whose children are in the next room.)

Maybe I should keep the ex around, after all. I’d certainly live to tell…

© 2008 DadsHouseBlog.com. All rights reserved.

Del.icio.us  |   Digg it  |   Furl  |   Reddit  |   Stumble it  |   Yahoo My Web 2

Who says online dating doesn’t work? I admit, I was one of the nay-sayers. In eight years of divorce, I tried some of the most popular online dating sites – match.com, yahoo personals, eharmony, chemistry.com, salon.com, nerve.com, everything but matchmaking by DNA. The experience left me jilted. I became wary of online dating expert advice sites that make money by encouraging you to give internet dating a try. As an experienced online dater I felt compelled to blog about my failures through a series of online dating confessions.

If I now admit I was wrong for saying that online dating is a complete waste of time, can you find it in your heart to forgive me? Because I finally have a success story.

eHarmony offered to give me $20 off on Southwest Airlines if I expanded my profile’s match distance setting to 120 miles. Twenty bucks for a profile change! How often does someone offer to give you that kind of free cash?

And what’s 120 miles to someone like me who lives in the Bay Area, within a one hour drive of perhaps 7 million people? I mean, if I can’t find love in a pool of 7 million, why wouldn’t I want to expand my search, increase my odds? After all, a two hour drive for a coffee date is nothing when Dr. Neil Clark Warren’s scientific approach says you have real relationship compatibility. Heck, with my discounted airline fee, I could up my matching distance to 1200 miles!

Free money. Now that’s online dating success!

© 2008 DadsHouseBlog.com. All rights reserved.

Del.icio.us | Digg it | Furl | Reddit | Stumble it | Yahoo My Web 2

Our thirty-two-foot sailboat with a cooler full of beer is nothing like the 228 feet of Greg Norman’s yacht with its living room, dining room, and big screen TV. But when friends and I sail the San Francisco Bay, our day is always an adventure. And yesterday was no exception.

We started the day finding a bird nest in our sail. A sign, perhaps, that the boat hadn’t been out in a while. Were there problems with the vessel?

“No, mon,” Collin, the yacht club manager, said with his Caribbean accent. “Dese birds dey build da nest in no time, mon.”

He assured us the boat had been out only a few days before, and promised we’d have no problems. Who were we to question him? It was our first day out this season, and we were chomping at the bit to get going. As a tiny bird flitted by wondering what fate would become of her home, we moved the nest to a nearby tree, and prepped the boat. (Greg Norman’s yacht doesn’t have sails, let alone bird nests.)

“Um, Collin?” our captain asked. “The engine won’t start.”
“No problem, mon,” Collin said. “We plug it in and it start.”

He plugged an extension cord into our boat, and the engine turned right over. He assured us that motoring out of harbor would be enough to recharge the battery. (I wondered if he had an extension cord that stretched all the way to Sausalito, just in case. Alas, he didn’t.)

We asked for a different boat, but Collin in his we-be-livin-da-island-life accent soothed our nerves and we shoved off in this one. Music cranking (Foreigner Four), margaritas in hand (pre-mixed from TGI Friday’s), we motored off and set sail into the bay.

Thirty-knot winds made for rough going at first. But with a seasoned captain and motley crew, and some beers to chase down the tequila, we made it across the bay and onto the calm back side of Angel Island. A perfect lunch spot before we headed to Sam’s in Tiburon for cocktails on the outdoor patio.

Except for one thing. The engine wouldn’t start.

We called Collin on our cell phone (the old breaker-one-nine CB-radio routine would have been more fun, but we weren’t in a playful mood.)

“Collin, the engine won’t turn over,” we said.
“No problem, mon,” he said. “Use da jump-start kit.”
Ah, yes. The jump-start kit. The one that says danger, use only in emergency, cover your eyes, don’t touch the red and black clamps or you’ll be electrocuted, sacrifice a virgin to the volcano, and maybe it will work. (Does Greg Norman have a jump-start kit? I think not. More likely an entire team of mechanics.)

We tried. It didn’t work.

“Better come back, then, mon,” Collin said. “If you be here by five, I bring da tug an’ pull you in.”

IF we’re there by five? Was he high? He should bring his little tugboat across the bay, pull us into Sam’s and buy us drinks for giving us a boat that didn’t work! (I pictured the little bird lounging in its nest, downing worms from an empty tequila bottle, nary a care in the world.)

We had no choice. We cut our adventure short and sailed back in choppy waters and even stronger winds. (Another one up on Greg Norman! His yacht can’t sail. Ha.)

Collin’s tugboat met us at the breakwaters. He tossed us a line, then watched as we scurried to get our sail down. (I swear at one point I was almost blown off the mast, forever lost to sea. To which our captain yelled, “Don’t lose the sail tie!”) The tug dragged us past completely insane windsurfers (did they not notice that we were being pulled by a rope and couldn’t do much to steer around them?)

Somehow we made it to dock safely, a feat for which we were roundly applauded by Happy Hour cocktail drinkers on a neighboring boat. (I didn’t see them out there facing thirty-knot winds.)

I’m sure the bird in its nest was quite happy to have missed out on our day.
And except for never making it to Sam’s, we wouldn’t trade our adventure for anything.

Like I said, Greg Norman’s yacht has nothing on us.

© 2008 DadsHouseBlog.com. All rights reserved.

Del.icio.us | Digg it | Furl | Reddit | Stumble it | Yahoo My Web 2

My parents were in town last night and planned to meet me and my kids for dinner. Usually when they visit we eat in a nice restaurant. (My parents always offer to treat, and somehow that never gets old.) But last night, with Bay Area weather as warm as it was, I offered to BBQ.

Perfect. While Grandma and Grandpa took my son swimming at their hotel pool, and my daughter coached a soccer practice, I ran to the grocery store. (For some reason, I once again had an empty fridge. I swear a teenager eats for ten.)

I grabbed some vegetables and a pre-marinated tri-tip steak. Tri-tip comes as one big hunk of meat, and usually takes 45 minutes to cook (the grilling instructions on the label back me up on that point.) I fired up the barbecue and got the meat cooking, pronto.

Back in the kitchen, I mixed a perfect gin martini. I would have waited for my parents to arrive before shaking cocktails, but my dad was dead-set on getting himself a beer from the hotel’s complimentary Happy Hour. (Crappy beer, he admits, but hey, free is free.)

Then I got to work – chopping tomatoes and garlic for bruschetta, marinating asparagus in olive oil and balsamic vinegar, peeling potatoes and setting them to boil for mashing. Half an hour into the cooking, everyone showed up.

“Want me to check on the meat?” Grandpa asked.
“If you want,” I said. “Everything’s timed to be done in fifteen minutes.”
I was sipping my martini when he came in from the backyard.

“It’s medium rare,” he said.
“Already?” I asked. The potatoes weren’t even boiling yet.
“I cut into it. It’s pink inside”
“Well then, we better get it off the grill,” I said.
“Even if you take it off, it will keep cooking,” he said.
“All the more reason to get it off now. We aren’t eating for fifteen minutes.”

My dad got the meat off the grill and brought it inside.

“It’s medium now,” he announced. “It’ll be well-done by dinner time.”
Sigh. All of us like our steaks medium to medium-rare.

“You could slice it and let the heat out,” Grandma offered.
Great idea! I sliced while Grandpa watched.

“Look at that – it’s already well-done,” Grandpa said. “It’ll be black char by the time we eat.”

Why my martini didn’t kick in and put me in a more relaxed mood, I’ll never know. But at this point, I sort of lost it. “There’s not a whole lot I can do about it,” I said. “And having you say dinner’s going to be terrible doesn’t help!”

Grandpa smiled, not missing a beat. “I didn’t say it would be terrible. I grew up in the Midwest. We overcooked everything! Why, I remember as a boy eating meat so overcooked it could have been an old shoe!”

How is it that parents know just what to say? Somehow, that actually made me feel better.

Please pass the salt. It’s over there, next to the shoelace…

© 2008 DadsHouseBlog.com. All rights reserved.

Del.icio.us | Digg it | Furl | Reddit | Stumble it | Yahoo My Web 2

After a few weeks of lurking at the bottom of Alltop, the blog collection that brings you All the Top Stories, All the Time, Dad’s House was bumped to the top of the dads list, featured in the first few rows. This is great for single dads and single parents!

A goal of my blog is to let the world know that single fathers are perfectly capable of caring for children and running a household solo. I have half-time custody and teens in the house, so my issues are different than, say, a solo mother with full-time custody of a toddler. But there’s tons of common ground between me and other single parents - dating, relationships, parenting concerns. In eight years of divorce, I have a lot of experience with modern dating. Believe me, it’s different. (This isn’t your father’s Olds Mobile that we’re hooking up in… um, what’s your name again?)

Single parents are parents, and our voice needs to be heard. And it’s being heard, with Lori Gottlieb’s recent single-parent-themed book and movie deals, Tina Fey’s new movie Baby Mama, the upstart iheartsingleparents.com, writers and bloggers like Single Mom Seeking and Ms Single Mama (high up on the Alltop moms list).

Then again, after my rant against Alltop’s number one blog, Dad Gone Mad, maybe they moved me up to keep a better eye on me…

© 2008 DadsHouseBlog.com. All rights reserved.

Del.icio.us | Digg it | Furl | Reddit | Stumble it | Yahoo My Web 2

My son’s orthodontist office called to see if we’d gotten his X-rays taken for next Monday’s consultation.

X-rays? Consultation? I knew nothing.

My ex-wife had taken my son to his last ortho appointment, a routine checkup. She and I have joint custody of the kids, and take turns taking them to appointments. Apparently this time the orthodontist saw something he didn’t like and is advising more work.

The least someone could have done is tell me. After all, I’m equally concerned about my children’s health.

Sharing information between my kids’ mom and me has been a real problem over the years. Despite an amicable separation and living in homes just three blocks apart, communication flows decidedly one way – from Dad’s house to Mom’s house – hardly ever the other direction.

To combat this, I’ve tried to get schools, doctor offices, coaches and team parents to communicate information to both me and my ex-wife. Every time, it’s an uphill battle. When a Marin single mother blogged about the frustration of filling out forms that ask for a child’s “main” address when there are two households involved, I related completely.

I asked the orthodontist’s office if the doctor would mind sharing his opinion with me. “That’s what Monday’s consultation is all about,” the receptionist said. A consultation I would have known nothing about if the office had been able to reach my son’s mom and gotten the X-ray status. (I would have known nothing, that is, until the bill came.)

Sadly, it’s typical in our society for a father to be less involved in childrearing. When I suggested on a married man’s blog that fathers in general should be more present and involved with their kids, my comments maddened him and his readers. But I have joint physical and legal custody, and a willingness and interest to know what’s going on with my children, whether it’s school, health, sports, friends. I need to be informed.

The question is – if in eight years of divorce I’ve failed to get my ex-wife to communicate information to me, is it fair for me to demand that schools and doctors and youth sports teams do it, instead? I feel bad dragging them into it. After all, the fact I’m divorced isn’t their problem.

Still, I wonder when society will truly start accepting two-home families.

© 2008 DadsHouseBlog.com. All rights reserved.

Del.icio.us | Digg it | Furl | Reddit | Stumble it | Yahoo My Web 2