DON’T BUY THE HYPE

Do Women Really Go Crazy For Single Dads?

Sure, if you’re Brad Pitt. Otherwise, I’m calling BS

Last spring, when I still believed that online dating apps could lead to more than crippling bitterness and self-loathing, I scheduled a meet-up with a seemingly compatible woman. Her text stylings were in my Goldilocks zone — cerebral but not pretentious, confident but not bullying, flirtatious but not prematurely pornish, funny but not insane-funny — and presumably she saw similar potential in my eccentric-in-a-cute-way schtick.

We arranged to meet at a Starbucks near my office and her home. In hindsight, the location might have been a bad omen; Starbucks is the ultimate low-effort first date, suitable for people who don’t want to have to travel too far from wherever they already are or go anywhere they haven’t already been.

We greeted each other outside, silently confirming that we resembled our profile pics sufficiently to continue with the event, then sat down with our drinks.

After some conversational pablum about the virtues of coffee versus tea or God knows what, I draped my arm casually over the back of my chair and said in an offhand tone, “I didn’t mention this in my profile, but I’ve got custody of my nine-year-old son.”

She fixed me with a chilly look. “No.”

“No?”

“Not interested. Sorry.”

I sensed that she wasn’t actually sorry.

“Ok,” I said. Pause. “So should we finish our drinks, or what?” And we did, because it seemed polite to engage in a few more minutes of awkward, pointless ritual before we fled, never to set eyes on each other again.

The media will tell you that women adore single fathers. My Google search for “Are women attracted to single dads?” produced 37 million results, with headlines like Single fathers of the world, rejoice: You’re so hot right now and Survey Finds that Women Find Single Dads Irresistible.

So what is it about single dads that makes otherwise calm, rational, women squirm with carnal delight?

Various barely-researched articles offer reasons ranging from our “unique emotional maturity” to being “warm, empathetic, nurturing, kind and funny,” to the remarkable assertion that human females are more aroused by a Kevin James-ian paunch than by the rock-hard abs and pecs of a Jason Momoa.

Unfortunately, my personal investigation into this critical social issue leads me to conclude that I am neither “so hot” nor “irresistible.”

If anything, my solo-father status has rendered me chillier and more resistible than ever.

How do I know? Because apart from the anecdote above, a couple of other women with whom I’d developed an apparent connection advised that based specifically on my domestic situation, we weren’t going to be antiquing in the Poconos — or whatever it is that couples do besides bicker and weaponize sex — anytime soon.

You might be thinking that it’s just me. That these ladies were using the boy as a convenient excuse to nip things in the bud. That’s fair, because while I’ve got a pro-level dad bod and am more empathetic than, say, an iguana, my sense of humour is an acquired taste, and my emotional maturity? Well, it’s a work in progress.

So I’m sure my off-putting personality plays a role in the rejections. But the childcare scenario is the deal-breaker.

I’m in an uncommon situation when it comes to filial responsibility. I’d already clocked up nearly half a century on-planet when my son was born.

As a near-geriatric dad, I’m casting my figurative and sometimes literal line into a pool of older women who’ve either eschewed parenting or whose kids have finished university and are now playing XBox in the basement. In either case, a school-age child impedes the insurance ad fantasy of sail-boarding around the Greek Islands in a fog of post-menopausal bliss, or even lesser ambitions of a drunken weekend at the Niagara Falls casino.

These women may also think that when I look at them, I see a Terminator-style Heads Up Display with the words “FREE BABYSITTING!” flashing in giant red letters. And they wouldn’t be entirely wrong.

Such notions must dim any ardour stimulated by the warm and fuzzy domestic vibe which wafts around us sexy single dads, as would casual comments like “Well, I don’t see [my kid], so hopefully he’s at school.”

Nevertheless, something about the theoretical attributes of the single father —i.e., stability, kindness, and a general sense of decency — might appeal to women. We could even inspire enough misplaced lust to prompt the occasional one-night stand, or partial-night-stand, because we told the babysitter we’d be home by eleven thirty.

But it’s unlikely to lead to the unfettered, libidinous free-for-all that the headlines promise.

So if any of you gentlemen are contemplating fertilizing a woman, then splitting up and suing for custody solely to become a sensual single dad enjoying eighteen years or so of no-strings fornication, you’ll be disappointed.

Don’t say I didn’t warn you.

Follow Sweary Mommy for more of Patrick Metzger and his quest to become the world’s most notorious DILF.