Once Upon A Time...

A year ago, I was a carefree single gal livin' it up in a Manhattan suburb. I had a great job, I'd recently become single, and I had a great, close group of friends that kept me out and about on the social scene. It was then that I met Charming, at a conference networking function. I wasn't on the lookout for love (in fact I'd sworn off relationships after my last five year stint crashed and burned), but there was an instant connection there. As a total career gal with big aspirations, I was impressed at how quickly we got to know each other and within the same night, were working the room together, networking and mingling with all the industry heavy-hitters.

After running into him at the conference the following day, he called to invite me to dinner, and we later went for drinks. Things were going great - he was handsome, charming, funny, laid-back, and into business just as much as I was. I was surprised at how quickly he'd won me over and really how comfortable it was being with him. The bar was noisy - so noisy that we couldn't hear each other well over the music and din, and I'd had a couple of cocktails, but we were having a surprisingly good conversation about work, the technology industry, and our own interests. It was then that he said - and to this day I don't know what the full sentence was - "with my daughter."

"Your what?"

"My daugher. She's 11."

I felt like I'd just had all the air let out of me. He must be married! No? Divorced? No. He explained that he'd fathered a child with his high school girlfriend, when their relationship had already been on the chopping block. His ex had been living with another man for most of his daughter's life, who was serving as a good role model for his daughter, and he saw her on holidays and over her summer break. Did he still see his ex? Firm no.

Adding insult to injury, I'd just found out that he lived in Portland, some 3000+ miles away from where I'd be returning the next day. So much for perfect. But he was. We had a great chemistry. However, the news of his child almost ended our conversation. My mother, who'd been prodding me since my 25th birthday that I should start considering whether or not I wanted kids and take action (and showing her thoughts by buying enough baby clothes to last a child through her - not his, I had to have a baby girl - 5th birthday), had warned me when I broke things off with my ex that I needed to consider settling down, because once I hit 30, it would be hard to find a good man who wasn't divorced and with kids, and that I didn't want to deal with that kind of baggage. And I wasn't sure I'd be able to handle it myself either - - I'd seen Stepmom and read enough fairy tales to know that any relationship with this person would lead to a major challenge.

And yet, once we left the conference and headed our own ways home, we began corresponding, by email, IM and phone. A few months later, I was hooked, and the nerves and warning alarms faded behind my growing feelings.