The dating world as a single parent and carer

My experience of the last 7 years as a single dad

There’s much about my life since becoming a parent that hasn’t gone as expected. I certainly didn’t think I’d spend the vast majority of the last 7 years as a single parent, but that’s the way it’s turned out.

Some of that time has been through necessity. Some of it has been through choice. But most of it has been through periods of feeling like it’s simply impossible to date and wondering if things will ever change.

I know I’m not alone. Whenever I mention the loneliness of being a single parent on my socials, lots of you can relate and feel the same. So I thought I’d expand on that a little and talk through some of the challenges, and realities of trying to find a new partner, with autism parenting and being a carer added into the mix…

For about the first year after separating from Tommy and Jude’s mum, I wasn’t interested in dating. I was still coming to terms with the end of our marriage. The reasons why it had gone wrong and navigating the emotions around that.

As I tried to juggle our new set-up, of having Tommy or Jude every single day, commuting into London for work and rushing back again, I was barely keeping my head above water.

It felt strange each night to be at home alone with them. On my Jude nights, I was with him until about 11 p.m. each night, before I could sneak back downstairs and watch TV for an hour to myself. Most nights he’d be awake much later and I’d pass out next to him. On my Tommy nights, he’d be in bed by 8:30, I’d go back downstairs to have some dinner, and the house felt empty.

As life settled down, and we became more comfortable in our new routines, my mind turned to dating. With the world having moved on in the 11 years since my last first date, this meant the world of dating apps.

I created a profile and began scrolling, quickly realising that the realities of my own life were going to make this difficult. I had a very limited amount of free time I had available to go on a date. (and back then I had more than I do now, as my parents were able to help out with the boys. Within a couple of years, that option would disappear and I would find myself caring for them instead.)

When I looked at women’s profiles they were generally split into three groups. Those without kids, those with kids who had every other weekend free, or those with kids who had 50:50 arrangements when it came to care. Most profiles spoke of the hopes of foreign holidays, weekends away, spontaneity, nights out and city breaks. All things that I’d love to do. A dating life I dreamed of, but one that I knew I’d never be able to maintain.

Then, there was what felt like the elephant in the room (at least in my own mind) Tommy and Jude. Autism, and my boys’ needs.

What would they think of Tommy and Jude? I wasn’t searching for a mother figure in their lives, but if there was to be any long-term future, then they’d have to be accepting of them. In those first few years, there were some extremely challenging periods and regular meltdowns. I was rarely able to have friends and family visit, Jude was unable to cope with others being there, and Tommy struggled with the change in routine.

If the woman I dated had kids, how could we ever bring our families together in the future? I mean my boys were living apart because of how much they struggled around each other, how could I even consider getting into a relationship with someone who had kids?

How would they feel when faced with the realities of being a part of our lives? The repetition, lack of sleep, lack of social occasions, no holidays, and the meltdowns? The chance that our day could go wrong at any given second? What if I opened up and fell for someone who couldn’t cope with my family situation and lifestyle?

I know I was projecting way off into the future, but it was always there in the back of my mind. The lives of the women I was chatting to and sometimes meeting, the lives they were imagining and hoping for, were something that I knew was very unlikely if they were to be in a relationship with me. I struggled to see my own worth, or what I had to offer someone unless it somehow involved them being happy with a very slow, lots of time apart, kind of relationship.

Those first few years I dated on and off. Sometimes people would disappear from chatting when I mentioned autism and being a full-time dad, which was fine as it saved me from wasting my time. Occasionally I didn’t mention it until we’d been on a date or two, but then I simply found myself making excuses as to why it would take me so long to be free for another date, and made me feel like I was lying.

I never wanted to hide the life I had with my amazing boys, just that I was craving my own identity. Someone getting to know me as a person, the James who wasn’t just a dad. Maybe get them to like me for me before learning more about my life as a dad and a carer. To be honest, I was still trying to figure out who that person was, now I was divorced and a single parent.

I stopped doing that pretty quickly. Finding the time to date was tricky enough, the last thing I wanted to do was waste that time with someone who was put off by the realities of my life. I would talk about it openly before a first date. Lots of conversations never progressed to a first date from that. Some did. Some were fun, some there was no spark. Others fizzled out as I struggled to create any regular free time.

Sometimes, after all the hard work of arranging a date, going on it was the last thing I wanted to do. A meltdown or two at home, a number of sleepless nights, combined with the usual stresses and worries of raising autistic children. Then suddenly you have to try and block it all out, find some energy, and go on a date that’s taken 3 weeks to organise.

Most of the time dating has felt like I’m stuck in a vicious circle. On the surface, all I’m looking for are the usual things. Someone who I connect with, fancy, laugh with, and share things in common. The typical things that make you attracted to somebody.

But I also need a whole list of added extras that are hard to find. Someone who’s patient enough to wait weeks in between dates and accept I’m going to have very few child (or dad) free nights. Little opportunity for nights away or holidays. Limited social occasions. The list goes on

.Which I know is a set-up that is very rare when it comes to the male side of the dating world. There are very few single men out there who have full-time parenting and/or caring responsibilities. So I can understand why, when you’re trying to get to know someone in the early days of dating, it’s not an attractive proposition. Why such a complicated life can be a turn-off.

I’ve often thought about who is the right type of person for me to date.

My first instinct was she’d be a single parent. Someone who has kids of their own, similar age and stage of life. But then they’d have regular free time to fill and want to spend it with the person they’re dating. Then there’s the long term. How would their kids and Tommy and Jude interact? How would we ever look to live together?

Ok. What if I met someone who had no kids?

That would solve the problems of our families blending together, but how would they feel about all the restrictions I’d bring to their lives? Surely that wouldn’t work?

Maybe the solution would be someone who already has autism in their lives. Who gets it, who would readily accept and love Tommy and Jude? Which in theory is great. But then how would we ever find the time (and energy) to date? Jude couldn’t bear to be around his own brother or most kids in his school, how would we ever be together long-term?

I’d go around in circles, then delete all the apps. Concentrate on me, Tommy and Jude. Choosing to go on a date or two also meant that I was using up what precious little free time I had, meaning I had no time to see friends. So I’d choose to see them instead. Then a few months later, as the loneliness would creep back in, I’d download the apps and try and start all over again. As if something magical had changed.

Whenever I’ve spoken about it, or been asked about it, I’ve received lots of well-meaning advice. Some from people in happy relationships, some from people who have no real grasp of the complexities of raising autistic children, and some from parents who know exactly what it’s like. People would share how they too felt like they’d never find someone, and then they did.

“Don’t give up. It will happen when you least expect it. The right person will be willing to adapt to your life.”

And they did. For a while at least.

Eighteen months ago I had what I’d class as my first ‘proper’ relationship since I got divorced. Someone I’d describe as my girlfriend. I met her through my page, first as friends. We chatted. We had video calls and realised there was a spark between us. So we arranged a date, and we clicked

She was the mum of an autistic son, so she understood a lot about what life was like with Tommy and Jude and had followed me for a long time, so she knew the ups and downs of my life. It made everything so much easier. It was a long-distance relationship, but she had 4 days free every other weekend, and so she’d come and spend time with me.

She got to know Tommy and Jude very early on, and they were happy for her to be around. They got on well. She was the first person I’d introduced the boys to, and they developed a good relationship. We even managed some drives with Tommy or Jude, with them happy for her to be in the car.

Over the 9 months we were together I managed a couple of nights away from the boys, visited her home, and met her little boy. Again, it was simple. Easy even.

Until it wasn’t.

Life got more complex last summer with my dad falling ill and my mum’s dementia deteriorating rapidly. I found myself juggling the needs of 4 people, trying to figure out what was right for them all. My mum would eventually have to move into a care home. I’d adapt their house so that me and the boys could move in to look after my dad. And during those months the relationship came to an end. The increased complexity and my lack of free time was a problem once more. Now I no longer even had my own space, and I had my dad to look after every day.

The distance was also too much. We cared about each other, but she was never going to be able to move, and neither was I. The distance that forced us to spend more time together in short periods, and get to know each other more quickly, was also the same reason that we would never be able to be together. And so it naturally came to an end.

And that relationship was a blessing and a curse. I’d gone so long without that type of connection, without doing the simple things that couples do, like make each other dinner, or sit on the sofa and watch TV together, that it’s left me desperately craving more. I’d gotten so used to being alone and dealing with the periods of feeling lonely, that I was almost numb to it. Now I no longer feel numb, I miss that feeling of connection and companionship.

Meeting someone and it going so well should give me some spark of hope right, that there is someone out there that it will work with?

Yes, it has, but also no it hasn’t. Most days the pessimist in me wins out. The distance and amount of free time she had kind of forced us past that point of having the first 2-3 dates and getting to know someone. She gave up her free time to slot into my life and was also very accepting and understanding not only of the boys themselves but the restrictions they put on our dating lives. Up to a point. Then it became too much and we both realised it wasn’t going to change any time soon.

So the circumstances were pretty unique. Now I find myself living with my dad, with no real free space of my own. Did I mention I also now live opposite my ex-wife? I feel like they’re pretty big red flags for much of the dating pool out there!

It’s been on my mind a lot recently. The first few months of the year were taken up with adjusting to our house move, and my increased responsibilities with my dad. I didn’t really have the time or the energy to spend long thinking about it.

As things have settled, with the boys happy and my dad doing better, the stress levels have dropped, and a little more sleep has returned. This means my mind has wandered, focused more on what’s missing and brought up the whole dating conundrum once more.

I went to a friend’s wedding last weekend, and surrounded by other couples, it really hit home. I miss that connection with someone special. Someone who knows you inside out, knows your friends and family, and is a big part of your life.

I know this is a period of life and over the next few years things will continue to change. Maybe I will have more free time in the future. I can’t help but feel like I’m missing out on life though. That it’s passing me by.

Seeing what’s happened to my parents in the last few years, I know how quickly life can change. Having to adjust my career, social life, hobbies, and holiday plans to be the dad and son that my family have needed has been essential, but it doesn’t stop me from wishing for more sometimes.

And having a relationship with someone who loves and cares about me, just like how I love and care about them, is top of my list. Even if right now I really don’t see how that’s possible.

If you’d like to, please feel free to share your own dating experiences as a carer/single parent in the comments, and help others realise they’re not alone.