Bellevue is called "The Birthplace of Nebraska," and there could not be a better place to exemplify the Heartland of America. What is it like to be a divorced woman in this small city, surrounded by farms, churches, a neighboring Air Force Base, a place where folks are friendly, patriotism is abundant, and conservatism reigns.

Sara Muse, 23, knows what it is like to endure a divorce in this conservative part of the country, and she knows what it’s like to do it with a 3-year-old daughter, Rhyanne, in tow.

"I was married for about a year and a half before she was born," Sara says. Her eyes light up when she speaks about Rhyanne, whom she has essentially been raising by herself since her divorce a year ago.

"He sees her a couple of times a month … at my house, not at his. He'll come over for a few hours and then leave. He doesn't take her overnight."

Sara does not fit the stereotypical image of a divorced woman, and a single mother. She’s a Staff Sergeant in the U.S. Air Force and a semester away from earning her bachelor's degree in marketing management.

She volunteers, and is active in her church. "When I first separated I was 21 with a small child, and I was walking around with no ring on my finger,” she says.

“People will look at you and the child, then your hand and there’s just this, 'How old are you? Did you get pregnant in high school? Did you make a mistake? Did you not play by the rules?'"

She’s also heard people say, “Oh you are so young to already be divorced.”

She says, “Like I’m starting on this path to five or six husbands."

Check back tomorrow for the story of Sara’s marriage

Seven sexless months into my separation from Sam I found that the saying “necessity is the mother of invention” is more than a meaningless cliché. 

I’m at my friend Heidi’s and my daughter Lila is shadowing Heidi’s son, George. Lila adores George, who is 3. So George and Lila jump off chairs and laugh, George in his blond hair, Superman boxers, Buzz Light Year shades and nothing else.

Heidi and I are at the table, steam rising from our teacups. Heidi makes a mean cup of green tea. And she used to sell sex toys.

She was a rep with one of those companies that hosts in-house parties, like Tupperware, but with vibrators and nipple nibbler cream, instead of airtight leftover containers.

Somewhere in her house is this box of lonely, untouched sex toys, and I’m a separated single mom and I haven’t sex in seven months. I lean forward. I need that box.

I’ve been asking for months. Where is that box, girl? And, she’s stumped. She knows she put it somewhere... back of a closet, behind her husband’s guitars... but where?

Didn’t she see those capital letters forming over my head when I spoke: WHERE? (By “where” I was saying “urgent.”)

It was almost time to get Roxie on her way, but I was not leaving empty handed.

“You need to find the box,” I say, and now I say “the box” and we both know what I’m talking about. “I’m going to rip your house apart, girl. Seven Months. It’s been seven months,” I say. “Seriously, I’m going to rip the walls out to find that box.”

She says, “Oh my god, I forgot to tell you. I found it!.”

A pause.

“Oh my god. Seven months. I’m so sorry. That’s so long.”

In the back corner of the closet is a pretty pink case with white polka-dots, filled with black satin bags that are stuffed with vibrators.

I'm thanking the gods I work from home and there are few places my two feet and my bike can't take me. Because every buck I put into my gas tank is food I don't buy at the grocery store.

Gas at the cheapie station is holding at $4.17 this week. Everywhere else in town it's closing in on $4.30.

At that price, one gallon of gas costs more than 70 percent of the federal hourly minimum wage, $5.85. It’s still two-thirds of the new federal minimum wage that takes effect on July 24, and it's more than half the highest state minimum, $8.07, in the State of Washington.

Consider that the lowest paid workers pump almost a whole day's pay into the tank every time they fill it up. Even people making a decent wage, say $20 an hour, are spending an entire morning’s work just to pay for gas.

It's the same all over. In our must-have culture, where most families have to have two incomes in order to survive, people from the top to the middle and on down, everything is being eliminated but the basics.

No one is immune. For single moms, it's getting ugly.

Christina McLaughlin, "KristieMac" wrote about the impact of rising gas prices on her blog for the Houston Chronicle's Chron.com. She posted personal experiences, giving thanks for the good fortune of flexible work and having enough to cover bills, while lamenting economic pressure and the nixed vacation she dreamed of taking with her daughter.

Canceled vacation plans, fewer outside-the-home activities, less eating out, and just plan less. One by one every extra is slashed to make way for gas and groceries.

But, what happens when there are no more extras to cut, no more plans to cancel? Me, I'm what happens.

God, how I hate being the single mom on Friday nights. Stuck home with sleeping kids while all the free world plays. I can't leave even for five-minutes to get ice cream from the quickie mart.

Even if I could, 14-hours into being mommy, after making three meals and washing three sets of dishes, after all day wiping butts, and a night of reading stories, my get up and go is gone.

This afternoon my friend Sequoia called. She's spent hours in the back yard watching her Blondie-girl splash around the kiddie pool. It's all you can do in this Portland heat wave.

We have the kind of hot that feels like being stoned. Too hot to think. Too hot to move. Too hot to breath. Way too hot to single parent alone. So you find water and wait it out. If you're solo, you try to find another mother to help get you through.

Sequoia is married, but hour for hour she single-parents more than I do. She does it all week. I'm on 24 hours for half the week, but the other half, I am free, free, free. And for tonight, I’m free.

It's close to dinner time, Sequoia’s husband's out of town, Blondie-girl goes to bed around eight, and then its empty hours ahead. There’s that hollow belly feeling that settles in around sunset.

Roxie and Lila are at the beach with their Gammy and PopPop, so I tell Sequoia, "Yeah, hell yeah, I'll come drink red with you."

Heat blows though my open car windows and Mt. Hood glows pink in the rearview mirror. This is the kind of summer day it was two years ago when I first knew.

Calf-deep in the wading pool at some sun-baked park, Lila in a swimming diaper at my feet and Roxie on the merry-go-round. One eye on each of my babies, and right there I realized the truth of how staying in that marriage would bring more pain than parenting alone.

When Sequoia opens the door her fingers are bare, wedding rings off. I wonder what she's been weighing today.

The date went well. Very well, in fact. He seems to be a nice, honest, sincere, smart, and fun guy. Note that I said, "seems to be," because up until now, I wasn't really sure that such an animal existed. I guess I'm still not too sure.

I will say that if I had met him before the “Levi Fiasco” I would have jumped right into this. I would have gone along with the giddy feeling. I would be gushing to all of my friends.

After Levi, I am much more guarded. Now, I can't really feel around all of the walls that I've put up. It's going to be hard, I think, to trust someone again.

I remember falling in love with Levi, and how much fun it was. How euphoric it all felt. How ready I was for it.

I think about it now, I talk to my friends about it now, and I know I'm not ready to do that again. What is "falling in love," anyway? I guess it’s the "falling" part that scares me. Generally speaking, falls are not good. Generally speaking, one hurts oneself in a fall. I know that I couldn't once again deal with the devastation that comes when you lose someone you love. As a result, I worry that I'll never feel the absolute euphoria of giddy, happy, love again.

So for now, I'm just going to take it easy: remain cautious but also try (and try, and try) to relax and enjoy myself. I'll let you know how it goes.

First thing you learn, at least the first thing I learned, about being a single mom: it’s hard, almost impossible. I signed the lease for my new apartment on my 10th wedding anniversary. Let’s just say I’m a deadline-driven kind of girl, and after years of thinking “I can be broke, and alone all by myself,” it hit me, my deadline was 10 years. I had to get out.

That was two years ago. At the time, my daughters were 4 ½ and 21-months, and PBS had just aired a documentary called “P.O.V – Waging a Living.” The film looked at four people, three of them single moms, all working full-time and none making enough to make ends meet.

How’s that for a timely glance into the crystal ball?

One by one their stories debunked the American Dream, which is work hard and you’ll get ahead. One-quarter of the adult workers in this country have dead-end jobs paying less than the federal poverty level for a family of four. That’s 30 million people.

There was the 41-year-old waitress and mother of three young kids who made $2.13 an hour and sometimes paid more than 90 percent of her nightly tips to the babysitter. Yep, right there with you, sister. My gig was working nights in the sports department of a local newspaper, but I didn’t make much. The one night a week I both had the kids and had to work, I paid their sitter a buck an hour more than my hourly wage. Figure in commute time and those shifts cost me $10.

The apartment I picked was small for the price, one bedroom, but it has plenty of green space for the kids to play, and trees to climb. And the selling point, location, was that it was smack in the middle of my three tightest girlfriends’ houses. Five blocks in either direction to two of them.

When you divorce, everyone and their Aunt Nellie tell you to go where you have the strongest support. In other words, make sure you are living in the right village, because it’s going to help you raise your kids.

I appreciate all of those who seem to be committed in their efforts to finding me a man, but could you help me find a job first?

I am saying this because — well, let’s face it — I feel as if I’ve been pushed to.

More times than not, I have had people ask me in some form or another when I planned to start dating. Now that I am finished with school for the time being, many people see this as a time for me when I should to get back in the saddle, find a man, and ride him off into the sunset. But I would rather prefer to have a steady job rather than a steady beau.

But I am left to wonder, why do so many people place such a premium on being in a relationship – even at the expense of self-fulfillment?

It just seems irrational — and irresponsible — to try to land a boyfriend before landing a job. Would you splurge on a luxury vacation before paying your rent? I think not. So why waste time looking for a mate rather than look for a job?

Human beings are social animals. I know this — I’m a sociologist. I also know that there are basic human needs that we all have that need to be met, should we want to feel complete. Referring back to Abraham Maslow’s pyramid schematic, says that one would see that safety and financial security actually come before relationships and sexual intimacy. What I want to know is; why then do friends and acquaintances worry more about my romantic life than my professional life?  And when did the flip occur? Why is it that so many people seem to place the need of being fulfilled by others over self-fulfillment? Does it seem less embarrassing (or more interesting?) to say “Have you finally met a guy?” than “Did you finally find work?”

I have a date this weekend — a real date, with a seemingly normal person who is also my age. And it wasn’t just, “So what are you doing tonight?” He asked me out days in advance. I can't remember the last time I've been asked days in advance. I actually don't think I ever have! I am positively giddy.

I met him a few weeks ago, at a meeting. We were both standing outside the building and he just walked over and introduced himself. I was stunned that a rather attractive man was talking to me, so I fumbled and stumbled like an idiot for the entire conversation. I pretty much thought it was over right there. Then I ran into him again, the next day, at a picnic. This time, I only stumbled like an idiot for about an hour. The good thing is that we talked for four hours. The bad thing was that I left without getting his number, and without giving him mine. I felt like a dope. But I ran into him, again, at a Farmers Market. It was 8:30 in the morning. I had just fallen out of bed. I was lugging my son around. And I hadn't even had my coffee. I heard someone yelling my name from across the street. I turned around and there he was. We walked around the market together, had coffee, played with my son, and he even showed me where he lives. This time, I made sure to give him all of my numbers — home, cell, office — and my e-mail. Then I got to sit around and wait for him to call. It took a week, but he did.

The thing was, I was so insecure about it all. I really need to work on that. I know from my own experiences that insecurity is one quality, or rather flaw, that is totally unattractive.

So yes, I have a crush — haven't had one of those since high school! I'm so nervous and excited for our date on Saturday, I'll be sure to let you all know what happens.

I am about a month into my new life — and I am slowly losing my mind.

Actually, it’s not that slow.

Since leaving school, I have traveled back to the West Coast to present some research, moved — to the suburbs, no less -- and have not managed to find a job. I cannot tell you how badly my nerves are frayed. If not for the fact that I am afraid of lightning storms, I would probably be able to run about 100 miles fueled by nervous energy.

I know life changes are not supposed to be easy. I have been through enough of them to know this is the case. But that doesn’t keep my insecurities from welling up and overriding my rational mind.

I think the thing that bothers me the most is that so much is out of my control. Nothing chafes me as much as being without a job. Living in a country where people are defined by what they do, (I’m an investment banker, I’m a teacher, I’m a dog trainer), doing nothing leaves them feeling like they have nothing, like they are nothing.

I hate labels, always have, but that doesn’t fill the cavernous hole in my soul that not having a job has created.

Our D-I-V-O-R-C-E becomes final today
Me and little J-O-E will be goin' away
I love you both and it will be pure H-E double L for me
Oh, I wish that we could stop this D-I-V-O-R-C-E.
~Tammy Wynette

Divorce is ugly. In the south it’s so bad, some people can’t even say the word. They have to spell it.

The husband/wife relationship in Dixie is unique. Down here, marriage is still considered a sacred thing. In the Bible Belt, scripture says it is the woman’s place to keep the family together. If a divorce happens, it is always going to be blamed on the woman. After all, it’s up to her to hold the marriage together, to do enough to keep him interested and to always fight for him. Loretta Lynn can handle this one:

You say you're gonna take him
But I don't believe you can
Cause you ain't woman enough to take my man

Down south, a divorcee is considered a fallen woman who must have done something wrong. Or perhaps she didn’t do something right. In either case, she drove him away. A divorced man, however, is considered a good prospect.

“Before my friend divorced her husband for infidelity, his mistress she caught him with, sat up in bed and said if you were satisfying your man, he wouldn’t have to go looking for it someplace else,” said Tahira Hensley, a home loan specialist.

“The woman is the bad guy, every time.”

Gina, a home stager, says “My family was so upset when I told them that Bill had walked out on me and our boys that they actually called him to try to patch things up for us. Talk about humiliating! It’s not bad enough he left us to find himself, my family took his side!”