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MidReal Story
The Single Dad Club
Scenario:A divorce father of a little boy and little girl because the eligible bachelor at 32 years old again dealing with the blind date going out on dates and going on regular dates while juggling being a single father
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Ethan
He is a single father and a mechanic at a dealership. He is caring, humorous, and downtoearth. Ethan juggles taking care of his two young children fulltime while their mother is in Europe for work. He struggles with the idea of dating but reluctantly agrees to blind dates set up by his colleagues. Despite feeling awkward and uncomfortable, he tries to make the best of it for his children’s sake, even if it means facing awkward moments with women.
Maggie
She is a pediatrician and mother of two young boys. She is confident, approachable, and observant. Maggie moves back to her hometown and starts practicing at a children’s hospital. She encounters Ethan at one of her husband’s friend's parties. Although initially selfconscious about being seen with a single father, she appreciates his consideration in bringing his children to the party. She struggles with her own feelings of being a single mother and desires for her children to have stable relationships.
Samantha's Mother
She is Maggie's supportive mother who has been a significant influence on her life. She is nurturing, wise, and encouraging. Samantha's mother plays an important role in helping Maggie settle into her new home and community. She provides advice and emotional support, especially regarding dating and taking care of children as a single mother. Her relationship with Maggie is close, and she frequently shares humorous moments with her daughter about dating men.
At thirty-two years young, I never thought I’d be jumping back into the dating scene, especially after being a hot mess for the past two years.
I mean, who needs dating when they have two beautiful children to keep them on their toes twenty-four/seven?
I didn’t, that’s for sure.
My little boy and little girl were all I needed.
They were my world.
But after being set up on not one, not two, but three blind dates by my colleagues, I finally agreed.
It wasn’t like I had a choice, anyway.
They’d all but forced me into it.
"Come on, Ethan, you’re an eligible bachelor.
You need to get back out there," my coworker Mike said, patting me on the back.
Eligible bachelor?
Was he shitting me?
I hadn’t been on a date since before my divorce almost two years ago.
I was beginning to think that I would be one of those guys who would be too scared to try again.
I’d been a single father for over a year now, and I was starting to think that was all I was meant to be.
I check my reflection one last time in the dealership’s bathroom mirror, straightening my tie and making sure I look presentable.
I’m probably overdressed for coffee, but I didn’t know what else to wear.
The kids are with my sister today, so I had to get ready at work.
It’s strange not having them here this afternoon.
It feels empty.
I hop in my car and drive to Bean & Brew, trying to think of things to talk about on a date.
What do people even talk about on dates anymore?
I haven’t been on one in so long that I don’t even remember.
I pull into the parking lot fifteen minutes early and park my car.
Taking a deep breath, I push open the door to the coffee shop, and the bell above it chimes loudly.
I take a seat at a table near the window and order a plain black coffee.
A few minutes later, a woman with curly brown hair and a warm smile approaches my table.
"Hi, you must be Ethan," she says, extending her hand.
"Yes, that's me," I reply, shaking her hand, "and you must be Claire, the one who’s brave enough to meet a single dad on a blind date."
I hesitate, caught off guard by her direct interest in my children.
Most women I’ve encountered tend to shy away from the single dad topic.
She smiles and takes a seat across from me.
"So, tell me about your kids," she says, leaning forward slightly.
I pull out my phone and scroll through my recent photos, stopping at one from last weekend’s park trip.
Emma’s missing front tooth gleams in her smile while Jake clutches his favorite dinosaur toy in his arms.
"This is Emma and Jake," I say, showing her the picture.
"Emma’s six and Jake’s three."
"They’re adorable," she says, genuinely smiling.
I can’t help but ramble on about them.
"Emma had her first dance recital last month. She was so excited to wear her costume. And Jake... well, Jake is obsessed with dinosaurs right now. He has this T-Rex toy that he takes everywhere with him."
"That’s so cute," Claire says, leaning in a bit closer.
"Do they have any other interests?"
I nod, feeling a knot in my stomach loosen slightly.
"Emma loves playing with dolls and dressing up. And Jake... well, he’s really into cars right now too. He loves playing with his toy garage and racing them around the living room."
"That sounds like a lot of fun," Claire says, smiling again.
"And what about you? What do you like to do for fun?"
I shrug, feeling a bit self-conscious about how much I’ve talked about the kids already.
"Well, I enjoy spending time with them, obviously," I say, chuckling nervously. "But when I’m not working or taking care of them, I like to tinker with cars. I’ve got an old Mustang that I’m restoring right now."
"That sounds cool," Claire says, nodding.
"I’ve always been fascinated by people who can fix things like that."
I smile back at her, feeling a bit more at ease now that we’re talking about something other than the kids.
"It’s just something I’ve always enjoyed doing," I say.
"And it’s nice to have a hobby that doesn’t involve diapers or sippy cups."
Claire laughs at that, and I find myself laughing along with her.
"So, what about you?" I ask her after a moment of silence.
"What do you like to do for fun?"
She smiles again and leans back in her chair.
"Well, I enjoy reading and hiking," she says.
"I also like to cook and try out new recipes."
"Actually, I brought something for you," Claire says, reaching into her bag.
I raise an eyebrow, curious.
"It's a recipe for my favorite dish," she continues, handing me a folded piece of paper. "I thought maybe you could try it with your kids sometime."
I take the paper and unfold it.
It's a napkin with a recipe written in neat handwriting.
"Macaroni and cheese with a twist," I read aloud.
"What's the twist?"
I ask, looking up at her.
She smiles mischievously.
"A dash of nutmeg. My nieces love it."
I nod, impressed.
"That sounds delicious. I'll have to try it with Emma and Jake."
"Let me know what they think," she says, smiling again.
I fold the napkin back up and tuck it into my wallet.
As our fingers brush against each other, I freeze mid-reach, suddenly aware of how long it's been since I've experienced such a simple touch.
Claire's cheeks flush slightly as she pulls her hand back, tucking a loose curl behind her ear.
I carefully place the napkin in my wallet, imagining Emma and Jake's excitement about trying a new recipe.
When I look up, Claire is checking her watch.
"I should probably get going," she says, glancing at the time.
Walking to our cars after coffee, Claire hesitates by her sedan and turns to me.
"You know, I was thinking," she says, a hint of nervousness in her voice.
"Maybe we could make that macaroni recipe together this weekend? At my place?"
My heart skips a beat, and I grip my car keys a little tighter.
"That sounds like fun," I reply, trying to sound casual despite the rush of excitement.
"But..."
I pause, unsure of how to broach the topic of bringing my kids to a near-stranger's home.
"I should probably check with my sister first. She usually watches them on Saturdays."
Claire nods understandingly.
"Of course. No pressure."
She rummages through her bag again and pulls out another napkin.
"Here, let me write down my address. If you end up being free, just text me and we can make plans."
I watch as she scribbles her address in neat handwriting.
"Thanks," I say, tucking the napkin into my wallet alongside the recipe.
Before driving away, I send a quick text to my sister about switching our usual weekend schedule.
I sit in my car outside the dealership, staring at my phone and the text from my sister: "Of course I'll watch them! Go have fun!"
My thumb hovers over Claire's number, saved from the napkin.
Through the windshield, I watch other mechanics heading home for the day, their coveralls streaked with grease like mine.
Finally, I type out a message confirming I can make it Saturday, adding that I appreciate her understanding about my situation with the kids.
After hitting send, I grip the steering wheel, counting the seconds until her reply comes.
Her response arrives almost instantly: "Can't wait to see you."
I pull out of the dealership parking lot, my mind racing with thoughts about Saturday.
At a red light, I glance at the napkin with Claire's address again, wondering if I should bring wine or dessert.
The light turns green, and I drive past the grocery store where I usually shop with Emma and Jake.
Their empty car seats in my rearview mirror serve as a stark reminder that this weekend will be different.
I make a quick decision and turn around, parking at the store.
Inside, I grab a bottle of red wine, remembering Claire mentioned liking it during our coffee date.
Standing in the wine aisle, I scan the shelves for a decent Merlot when my phone buzzes.
I pull it out to find Claire's name on the screen, catching me off guard.
My hand hovers between two bottles of wine as I answer.
"Hey," I say, trying to sound casual.
"Hi," her voice comes through clear and friendly.
"Are you free to talk?"
"Yeah, I'm just at the store."
I settle on the cheaper bottle of wine and cradle it in my arm as I walk toward the checkout lines.
"Okay, good. I was just thinking about the menu for Saturday and wanted to run some ideas by you."
"Oh, yeah?"
I lean against a shelf, watching other shoppers pass by.
"Well, I was thinking of making my mac and cheese recipe, but then I remembered Emma doesn't like mushrooms."
I'm taken aback that she remembers such a small detail from our coffee date.
"That's right. She's not a fan."
"Okay, so maybe we could substitute them with something else. What do you think?"
I pause, considering her question.
"I think that's a good idea. Emma can be pretty picky."
I lean against my kitchen counter, phone pressed to my ear, watching the clock tick toward the kids' bedtime.
"I'm sure we can find something that works. Do you have any suggestions?"
I think for a moment before answering.
"Not really. Emma's pretty stubborn when it comes to food."
"Okay, no problem. I'll think about it and let you know what I come up with."
"Sounds good."
We both pause for a moment, and I realize I need to get off the phone if I want to get the kids in bed on time.
"Listen, I should probably go. The kids are waiting for me."
"Okay, no problem. See you Saturday."
I start to hang up but then stop myself.
"Actually, can you hold on a second?"
"Sure, what's up?"
I look around my kitchen, an idea forming in my head.
"I was just thinking. Maybe instead of going to your place on Saturday, we could do it here."
There's a pause on the other end of the line.
"Why?"
"Well, this way the kids can stay in their own space while we cook. They can play in the living room or watch TV in their rooms. It might make things easier for everyone."
There's another pause before Claire answers.
"That sounds like a good idea. What time should I come over?"
I glance at the family calendar hanging on my fridge, covered in crayon doodles and reminders about school events.
"How about 4 PM? We can start cooking then and have everything ready by 6." "That sounds perfect."
"Great. I'll see you then."
After hanging up, I immediately start planning how to childproof the kitchen and reorganize the cluttered cabinets.
Standing at my kitchen counter after the kids are in bed, I spread out recipe cards and start making a detailed grocery list.
The mac and cheese ingredients go down first - pasta, three kinds of cheese, nutmeg, and milk.
I add wine and bread, then pause at remembering Claire's mention of bringing dessert.
My pen hovers over the paper as I consider whether to buy backup snacks for Emma, who can be particular about sweets.
Jake's dinosaur place mat needs washing, and I note down paper towels.
The list grows longer as I think through every detail - fresh coffee for the morning, emergency juice boxes in case the kids get thirsty during the night.
I sit at the kitchen table, staring at my phone and trying to decide how to phrase the text to Claire.
Emma's face lights up whenever she gets strawberry shortcake, especially with extra whipped cream.
My fingers hover over the keyboard as I type, delete, and retype the message several times.
Finally, I hit send: "Emma loves strawberry shortcake if you're still planning to bring dessert. No pressure though."
The kitchen clock ticks loudly as I wait for her response.
When my phone buzzes, Claire's enthusiastic reply about knowing a great bakery makes me smile.
I set the phone down, feeling a quiet sense of anticipation for Saturday.
After putting down my phone, I notice the cookie jar is empty from Jake's after-school snack.
Walking to the pantry, I pull out flour, sugar, and chocolate chips.
I'll fill that jar before tomorrow.
While measuring ingredients, I remember how Emma always wants to help stir the batter, and Jake loves pressing the cookie cutter shapes.
The kitchen feels too quiet without their usual chaos.
I mix the dough alone, carefully dropping spoonfuls onto the baking sheet.
While scooping the last of the cookie dough, I hear familiar footsteps in the hallway.
The kitchen door creaks open, and Emma bursts in first, her ballet shoes still on from practice.
Jake follows, clutching his favorite dinosaur toy.
"Can we help?"
Emma asks, already reaching for the mixing bowl.
I lift Jake onto the counter as Emma grabs her pink apron.
Together, we drop messy spoonfuls onto the baking sheet, getting dough everywhere.
When Jake accidentally knocks over the flour bag, creating a white cloud, I remember why I usually wait for them to bake.
I watch Emma dip her fingers into the bag, her eyes sparkling.
When she flings a small handful at Jake, dusting his dinosaur shirt white, I should stop them.
Instead, I grab a pinch of flour myself.
Jake squeals as I dust his nose, and then he retaliates by throwing a cloud at my chest.
Emma joins in, and soon we're all covered in white powder, ducking and dodging around the kitchen island.
The cookie dough sits forgotten as flour clouds fill the air.
Through my laughter, I notice handprints on the cabinets and footprints tracking across the floor.
I catch a whiff of something starting to burn and glance at the oven timer through the flour haze.
"Time to clean up, troops," I announce, reaching for the kitchen towel.
Emma keeps giggling and tries to throw more flour, but I gently catch her hand.
Jake sits on the counter, swinging his legs and creating flour clouds.
Moving quickly, I grab the oven mitts and rescue the first batch of cookies, which are just starting to brown at the edges.
The smell of warm chocolate fills the kitchen as I set the hot tray on the stovetop.
I grab three glasses from the cabinet, stepping carefully around the piles of flour on the floor.
Emma climbs onto her usual chair, while Jake needs a boost into his booster seat.
He leaves white handprints on everything he touches.
I pour cold milk into their favorite cups—Emma's pink princess one and Jake's dinosaur tumbler—before filling my own plain glass.
The cookies are still too hot to eat, steam rising from their melted chocolate chips, but the kids reach for them anyway.
I pull their hands back.
"Wait just a minute," I say, smiling at their eager faces.
Emma pouts, "But they smell so good!"
Jake nods vigorously, adding, "Yeah, and we helped make them, so we should get first dibs!"
I stand at the kitchen counter, watching the cookies cool.
Their chocolate chips are still glistening and soft.
Emma bounces impatiently in her chair, her ballet shoes tapping against the chair legs.
Jake reaches across the table, trying to snag a cookie, but I pull the tray out of his reach.
The flour dust is starting to settle around us.
I pick up the closest cookie, feeling its warmth seep through my fingers.
Testing its temperature with my thumb, I notice it's still too hot to eat.
Emma's pleading eyes meet mine as she points to the cookie in my hand.
I break it in half, releasing a puff of steam, and hand each of them a piece.
I hold the warm cookie pieces in my hands, watching the chocolate chips ooze.
Emma and Jake lean forward, their faces expectant and flour-covered.
Steam rises from the melted centers.
I gently blow on each half, testing the temperature again with my finger.
Jake bounces impatiently in his chair, his dinosaur toy forgotten on the counter.
Emma's eyes follow every movement I make.
When I'm sure they won't burn their tongues, I hand them each their portion.
Emma takes a big bite at once, getting chocolate on her chin.
Emma giggles, "It's like a chocolate volcano erupted in my mouth!"
Jake grins, wiping his chin with the back of his hand. "Do you think Mom would let us make cookies every day if we promise not to make a mess?"
I chuckle, shaking my head. "Only if you promise to clean up the flour snowstorm next time."
I wipe a smudge of chocolate from Jake's cheek just as the doorbell rings, startling us all.
The kids look at each other, confused.
"Who could that be?"
Emma asks, her voice filled with curiosity.
I walk to the front door and open it, finding a large box on the porch.
It's wrapped in brown paper and tied with twine, with a label that reads "Baking Essentials" and has the logo of Sweet & Simple Bakery on it.
I pick up the box and bring it inside, setting it on the kitchen counter.
The kids gather around me, their eyes wide with excitement.
Jake asks, "Can we make more cookies now?"
I smile at him.
"Not right now, buddy. Let's see what's in this box first."
I untie the twine and open the box, revealing a collection of professional measuring cups, vanilla beans, specialty chocolate chips, and a few other baking supplies.
At the bottom of the box is a golden envelope with my name written on it in elegant calligraphy. Emma reaches for the envelope, but I grab it first.
"Let me see what this is," I say, opening it carefully.
Inside is a voucher for a parent-child baking class at Sweet & Simple Bakery.
The class is called "Sweet Treats for Kids" and promises to teach parents and children how to make delicious baked goods together.
I examine the voucher more closely, noticing that it's printed on high-quality card stock with gold foil accents.
As I turn it over in my hands, a small cloud of flour falls from my shirt onto the counter.
The kids giggle at the sight of it.
Jake points at the pictures of decorated cupcakes on the voucher and says, "Can we sign up for this class? Please?"
Emma nods enthusiastically in agreement.
I sit down at the kitchen table with my laptop, Emma and Jake hovering over my shoulders.
I navigate to the Sweet & Simple Bakery website and click on the "Classes" tab.
Jake points excitedly at pictures of dinosaur-shaped cookies, while Emma gasps at rainbow cupcakes decorated with sparkly frosting.
I find the registration page for the "Sweet Treats for Kids" class and enter our information for next Saturday's morning class.
As I fill out the form, I notice that there's a requirement for one parent per child, so I make sure to check the box confirming that I'll be attending with both kids.
After submitting the form, I receive a confirmation email with all the details of the class.
Emma hugs me tight enough to shake more flour loose from my shirt.
Jake runs off to his room and comes back with his plastic dinosaurs, arranging them on the table as if they're cookie cutters.