Dating as a single mum: "He got in the car and sat on a cheeseburger pickle."

Picture this: You’re a single woman, and recently you’ve had the opportunity to invite a good-looking guy into your car. He’s 6’2, has broad, sexy shoulders, smooth dark skin and a smile that could rock your world. His voice can only be described as Motown.

As the pair of you walk towards the carpark, he asks you which car is yours. You say “the black one over there” as you click the keyless entry and your car responds by flashing her headlights.

And then the awkward silence hits.

I currently drive a 2009 Kia Grand Carnival. It’s a beautiful car, and can hold eight people, has five anchor points for child restraints, side curtain airbags and a five star safety rating. I have named her Black Betty, but let’s face it, she’s hardly sex on wheels.

Mr. Motown climbs in, turns to look at the second and third row of seating and stares. I can assure you he isn’t admiring the fact that both child restrains had matching fabric. He was probably experiencing a wave of terror.

“How many kids you say you had?” he says. His voice is no longer Motown, more like Steve Urkel. It’s as though the sight of my child restraints had shrunk his balls to the size of two tiny peas.

This isn’t the first time I was witness to such ball-shrinkage within my car. Other comments have included (and must be read with maximum sarcasm and high pitch):

“Gee, the child seats add a really nice touch.”

“Oh, that’s just lovely.”

“Is that a cheeseburger pickle?”

Let me not forget about the time I met a dude at a local shopping centre for a coffee. He sent me a text saying he was on his way and riding his bike. I ask him if he was wearing leather or lycra and fantasised about which one I find sexier.

It turned out that he was wearing a tracksuit and he forgot to bring a bike lock for his precious mountain bike. Before I knew it, there was a bike in my handy van and a helmet-wearing man in the front passenger seat.

We never made it to coffee; the whole experience was just too stressful. If I was the proud owner of a pair of gonads, they too would have shrunk while he was navigating his bike into my car. All I could do was screech “Don’t scratch my car!”. Ironic, because the filthy state of my car is so bad that I tell the boys to always close the windows to prevent people from putting rubbish in.

This was never part of Black Betty’s plan. I think back to when my ex-husband and I purchased her. I was about 20 months pregnant with our forth child. Black Betty is the symbol of every happy family, and suddenly I’m now forced to drive her as a single woman.

There comes a point in a woman’s life when she begins to make investment purchases. In our early 20s our first investment purchase is usually a little black dress or a designer leather handbag that we swear will never go out of fashion. I am one of the few lucky women who happen to have 6 little black dresses, one in almost every dress size. Obviously I am diversifying my investment portfolio.

Some women of my age are considering property investments. I’m considering a vehicle investment. I have come to the conclusion that in order to attract a man, I must get a convertible, preferably a Mercedes Benz or something of similar calibre. Batman has a bat-mobile, it’s time I had a date-mobile.

A man’s balls would never shrink in a Merc, and a man most definitely wouldn’t try to fit his bike into a Merc either!

I jump on carsales.com.au and start to research the Mercedes SLK. Several days later I notice Facebook ads sending me subliminal messages. I keep seeing a carsales ad with the SLK I was researching – and below this ad is one for foster parenting. The universe is obviously telling me if I purchased my date-mobile my kids would end up in foster care because I wouldn’t be able to afford to feed them!

I think it’s about time the Australian Government included a benefit called Family Tax Benefit Part C (C is for convertible). It could be used by all single parents to purchase a convertible, which would have the dual effect of supporting the car industry while assisting to find a new partner, possibly getting them off the sole parent pension much faster than any other return to study/work scheme that already exists.

The only foreseeable problem I see with a small 2-seater Merc would be the lack of space. Once you get two bodies in there, there isn’t much room left for anything else. Black Betty on the other hand has a lot of room, with seats that fold flat into the floor… Maybe I just need to fold them before any future dates and chuck in a mattress while I’m at it.

Maybe Black Betty is sex on wheels after all. She’s a shaggin’ wagon waiting to happen…The Holden Sandman’s long-lost sister, perhaps?

Over to you – what does your car say about your living situation? Or – what doesn’t it say?

Melbournian to the heart, soon-to-be-divorced Mama of 4 boys who takes amazing photos most of the time.  She’s an entrepreneur, very creative and sometimes downright ridiculous. You can find her on Instagram, Twitter, Facebook and Google+.