A few days ago I posted a pic of Van from a one-on-one date I took him on. Underneath the photo, I wrote: “…And he talked and talked and talked about football. I’ve never been so content to just listen. This age is the best”.

A lot of people, mostly moms, sent me heart emojis.

I went on a date the other week with a guy who had a pretty unique and diverse background — raised in another country in a culture that was different from the country he was raised in. Sidebar — as much as my friends hear me bitch about the urine in the dating pool, I really do enjoy meeting different people. I’m not even sold on the idea of “finding a partner” at this point — I’m really just enjoying meeting people and hearing different people’s stories.

Anyway, I learned a lot about this guy’s life because I was curious and that curiosity led to me asking questions.

At one point he mentioned having a daughter that was 7 years old. I told him my youngest was 7 as well. He asked no follow up question; no “oh, you have more than one kid?” … nothing.

He continued talking about himself.

I asked him about his relationship with his kid’s mom, because I know there’s loads of ways it can go —> co-parenting, parallel-parenting, counter-parenting, and I’m always intrigued. He didn’t reciprocate the question.

And he continued talking about himself.

I called a girlfriend on the way home and shared my narrative that men really don’t seem interested in getting to know women. So many men seem complacent in allowing women to cater to them, to center them. And it doesn’t come across as malicious, it comes across as ingrained.

This morning I thought back to my date with Van and what I wrote about it. It occurred to me that a man’s first experience with a woman is with his mother. A mother who was happy to just listen and listen and listen, who welcomed her son onto center stage while she took a seat in the back of the audience.

I read somewhere that you can’t be a feminist and a mother because the two are at odds; that being a mother is literally solidifying yourself in a role in a patriarchal society that’s really damaging to women (to men, too, but that’s a separate post). As mothers, we are constantly praised for self-sacrifice; we give and give and give and the more out-balanced what we give is in relation to what we take, the more applause we garner. The unpaid, underappreciated labor of motherhood is truly what (indirectly) fuels our economy (a separate post).

I often feel like I’m fumbling with the responsibility of raising three boys; like I can’t counter the weight of patriarchal conditioning especially in light of the fact I’m still coming into awareness of so many ways it impacts me and my role as a mother.

The following night I took Sonny out for a one-on-one date. I told him he can pick anywhere he wants for dinner. He picked Cane’s Fried Chicken, a fast food chain I honestly hate. I paused, gave it some thought and consideration, and said, “I’d like to go to a restaurant where we sit down and they serve us. I don’t feel good after I eat fast food.” He immediately had a strong reaction. I followed it up with, “Remember this is a date for the both of us. When you go on a date with someone, you want to make sure the other person feels good with the decisions being made. A date is about the couple, not about just yourself. Can we find a restaurant we both enjoy?”

And we did.

Maybe men aren’t considering women because they were raised by mothers who prided themselves on taking everyone else’s needs, wants, and desires into consideration above their own.

I’d like to change that.