Don't Do Wifey S*%t for a F&^kboy

The D-Train #28

A lot of people are asking me about the effect that coronavirus is going to have on my divorce situation. So far nothing has changed except that I have to assume any court proceedings are going to be delayed. So, more time wasted. More money wasted. I guess we will wait and see, like everything else.

Ho hum.

In the meantime, I have also been asked questions this week about what it’s like to be a single parent (single person?) in the time of social distancing. I’ll start with the parenting part. “Working from home” full-time while parenting a toddler and “homeschooling” an eight-year old all by myself is hahahahaha. It’s basically 98% yelling and sobbing, and 2% working/schooling. I’m stressed out. I’m bored. I’m lonely as fuck. And my anxiety about EVERYTHING is through the roof. Let my life be a lesson to anyone considering divorcing with small children. Because in the event of another global pandemic, let me tell you, your life as a single parent is totally and completely, royally fucked. I was on a work call this morning and my little guy was standing on a chair behind me with two fistfuls of my hair in his hands, screaming at the top of his lungs. Everything is awesome. Everything is great. I totally wouldn’t sell my soul for another fucking adult human to hang out with or anything. Nope.

Now, on to the part about being single. This isolation is so lonely, but here’s a funny thing about being basically quarantined that you might not have expected. My phone is actually blowing up with messages from men.

Fucking dudes. 

Let me explain. I had been on Tinder for a hot minute a couple of months ago, and then, mercifully (Tinder is seriously soul crushing), I deleted the app for awhile. I recently downloaded it again though, legitimately out of boredom, since I sure as hell am not leaving my house to get coronavirus so that some lame stranger can get his dick wet. But within 24 hours of downloading it again I somehow had 59 new messages. Not matches. Messages. Now, I’m in my 40s. I have two kids. I’m not saying I’m totally unfuckable, but from my limited experience, 59 dudes messaging me in a day felt less like a compliment and more like a sure sign of the apocalypse. Homies are straight up panicking. I was asking myself, who is going out and hooking up with strangers with fucking Covid-19 going around? Are these men insane? But I messaged a few of them back and it began to dawn on me what they wanted. They weren’t actually looking for sex. They were freaking out about coronavirus, and they were looking for nurturing. Oh fucking hell, dudes. Really? (Emotional labor. It’s always emotional labor). 

Listen, I’m a giver. So I’m offering a service for the next two to eight weeks. If you have a penis, and you get scared (and need your mommy?) during the quarantine, call me. I’ll pet your head (virtually) and tell you everything is going to be alright. It would be nice if one day men developed more sophisticated coping strategies (oh, snap). But until then, I got you, dudes. 

I got you.

…just kidding! I have nothing left to give to these emotionally stunted men dying for a bit of comfort. Get a service dog or something, fools. 

family gathering GIF

I’m a really nice person, but sorry my dudes. There is no Good Woman shit left for free over here. And honestly, I’m the last person you would want for that. I never learned how to cook. I’m lazy about cleaning (dear lord I miss the pre-divorce days when I could afford to pay someone to do it). I forget to send thank you notes. Grocery shopping sends me into a full-blown panic spiral. I suck at setting up play dates for my kid. I forget to scoop the litter box. I forget to pay bills. I forget to put gas in the car. I don’t even have any food in my house half the time. You think I have room in my brain for random nurturing? Nope, ain’t gonna be me.

I mean, under normal circumstances if a dude wants someone to come over and drink all his wine and tell him the plots of The Babysitters Club books 1-15 in agonizing detail and possibly set his deck on fire by accident and then pass out crying on his couch? Well, that I can provide. But I’m not your girl for scheduling the doctor’s appointments or getting the carpets cleaned or running the bake sale at school or telling you that your penis is awesome and your cargo shorts aren’t that bad, or that we’re all going to be fine and this isn’t the apocalypse and it will all be over soon.



So what’s a single, working mom to do to keep from going insane during the pandemic? I need human, adult interaction, damn it, and there’s no hope of getting any for a long, long time. So far I have done two video conferences with friends. I have been texting and emailing and messaging my people as much as possible. But I miss my coworkers and our office and my daily routine surrounded by humans so much more than I can say. Things are getting dark already, I can feel it. I did a video conference with my colleagues today and I didn’t even bother to put on a bra. I told my coworkers I loved them at the end, which isn’t even really so weird for me, except that one of them just started last week. I already miss her so much?

I keep obsessively checking the mailbox as though I’m going to find something more exciting there than a West Elm catalog. Maybe we should all start mailing each other letters again? (PLEASE, send me a letter, I’m fucking dying of boredom. Write anything! Love letters, ransom notes, haikus — I promise I will write back!).

Feeling isolated? Restless? Try doing this alone with a 1-year old and an 8-year old, and an actual full time job.

Fuck. My. Life.

That’s all I got. Stay safe everyone.


Amy Blair

p.s. If you would like to be one of those awesome paying subscribers helping to fuel this thing, please click on the little box below.

Also, I had no idea how much I needed this one. GAH! So fucking good.

Finally, don’t forget to listen to The D-Train, The Playlist, a soundtrack for a shit show.