When you are in love but a child is in the mix

When you are a man, at the start of your 30s, and you fall in love with a woman who has a child, you are always in a dilemma. Especially if you want to marry her. There are things to consider. The first being the sex of the child.

Most men are super reluctant when the child is a boy. It may be 2016, but marrying a single mother of a boy is quite unsettling. Another thing is how much the mother loves the child.

Some single mothers can love the child too much to ever accord proper attention as a husband. So you have to love the child first to access the mother emotionally and sometimes, physically. And lastly, you have to know who the baby daddy is.

Men are naturally proprietary. Whether it is evolution or genetics, it is always a big ask to raise another man’s child. Most can ignore and play along, but it is invariably a big deal. But once you get past this internal monologue, a kid is just that: a kid. And you can be a better father and bring the kid up just fine.

You are thinking all this as you wait for Carol to join you in this upmarket joint in Hurlingham. You have downed a few shots and feeling light in the head. Carol is late by over an hour. Traffic, she says.

She finally arrives. She is in a floral dress that makes her so damn girly and attractive. She must have gone to the salon over the weekend, she looks stunning in her new hairdo, and it is not a stretch if you said she is the hottest thing within one kilometre radius. Today, she is upbeat.

It is past midweek, and she does not mind helping herself with the whisky. You talk about nothing in particular for one hour. But you notice, she is deliberately getting herself drunk. May be it will help her explain this baby business. Finally, you have to get to business. You insist that having a child will not make you change your mind about her.

“Are you sure, or you are just playing nice?” she asks.

It is understandable, single mothers are always on the defensive. You give her your word. When she starts talking, she does not stop for 20 minutes. You nod along, hum along, listening. She speaks as if there is nothing she is hiding. You can sense, the alcohol is helping her talk, unrestrained.

To wit, she has a daughter, four years old. The father is a top city lawyer she used to date in campus. The man lied to her that he would divorce his wife for her. He divorced the wife, but never quite married her.

They dated for nearly three years and she has the daughter as a reminder from the relationship. She hates the man, especially his guts since they have fought over the custody of the girl, and she has lost it. ‘You can’t win against a lawyer’ she says. She can visit the daughter anytime.

That is some messed up arrangement. You have rarely heard of men being in custody of children, unless the mother is incapacitated.

“I would love to meet the daughter,” you tell her. She meditatively looks at you.

“I am serious. I think you should be the one raising the kid, not him,” you continue.

“We should go visit next week,” Carol says.

“Deal.” You respond.

@nyanchwani

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