- Nicola Prentis is experiencing the sudden return of free time after a decade of solo parenting.
- Filling the time and creating a social life from scratch is a lot of work.
- She's turned to apps to help build in reasons to leave the house.
When my ex and I switched to alternate weeks of shared custody of our two kids three months ago, the "me time" I'd fantasized about for years was suddenly a reality.
Whereas before, I'd run between school pick-ups, juggling work, and squeezing haircuts or medical appointments into school hours, now I have seven whole days to fill however I please.
The trouble is, I haven't had stretches of time like this to myself for over 10 years, back when I was single and child-free. At first, I wasn't sure what I even like doing now or who I am when I'm not a parent. Do I have hobbies?
When I was single, I lived in a few cities, always surrounded by lots of friends — we would be out and about most nights.
My ex and I were living in Madrid, but after having our first baby, we moved to Girona, Catalunya, for a smaller and quieter setting. Even after my partner left me, life didn't change that much, as I was already the primary caregiver and rarely went for anything other than playdates.
And, as nice as all of the parents I've met along the way are, I knew right away that there's no way I'm hanging out with their kids when I'm not with mine.
It left a lot of empty time to fill.
Evenings and weekends are hard to fill
My days are still crammed with running my business. My productivity had already increased due to years of balancing life as a single mom, but now, with fewer distractions, I'm scheduling marketing content six weeks ahead. I can accept meetings outside school hours, though it's too soon to say if my earning level has increased with my extra time.
But weekends and evenings loom over me. With no school run and less need to grocery shop, these "days off" have no structure and no built-in reason to stop work or leave the house.
On my first free week, I remember sitting at home waiting for something to happen. Spoiler alert: nothing did. It was clearly going to get depressing really fast.
The following week, I bought a bike and made it my mission to be as busy as I was 10 years ago. The bike was the easy part, as I've started going on joyful rides along the countryside roads as often as I can.
But this didn't help with creating a social life. I've found that the local bike-riding scene isn't very open because there's a clear distinction between "being a cyclist" and "riding a bike."
So I made a list of everyone I knew, from my 85-year-old neighbor to anyone who's ever said, "Hey, we should do something sometime," and never followed through. Turns out, half the people I've met up with have turned out to be on the brink of divorce, so I imagine I'll have more singles to hang out with over the next year or so.
A taste of my old life was hard to recover from
For the third week, I went back to Madrid to visit friends. People made time to see me as soon as they knew I was in town. One night, the friend I was staying with invited a girlfriend of hers for a drink. On the way home, she got a message from other friends who were eating at a restaurant on her street, so we joined them.
This was exactly how I remembered my old social life — spontaneous and easy. It was a harsh reminder of how hard it is to build something like that again.
The comedown when I returned to regular life was brutal. That weekend, there was a once-a-year meteor shower visible a few miles outside the city, and I had no one I could spontaneously call to go camp out and see it. I realized I call this boredom, but it's far deeper — loneliness.
I turned to the modern solution for loneliness: apps
So, I went for an option that matched the soullessness of my mood and resuscitated my dating app profile. At least there's no pretending that the process is anything other than mechanical.
To my surprise, I had two pretty good first dates over the next couple of my free weeks. Though there's something of beginner's luck as nothing's gone beyond a few messages since.
The week after, I discovered an app for reserving discounted surprise bags of food at supermarkets, bakeries, and restaurants that would otherwise get thrown out. Like dating apps, choosing a surprise bag involves a bit of scrolling and getting my hopes up that this bag will contain a pleasant surprise and not a load of limp lettuce. I actually felt some butterflies when I went to pick up my first food date, and overall, I prefer it to the dating app.
I know that if I work at it, I won't always see such a contrast between my old life and my new one. And it's probably the best preparation for empty nest day when my children leave home for good. But I can't help wishing filling my free time felt less like work.
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