During an evening of guilty pleasure watching of ABC's The Bachelor  earlier this year, I gave myself a hearty pat on the back with the assurance that I would never participate in a reality dating show like The Bachelor or The Bachelorette.

But you did, my husband reminded me.

When I met him, eighteen years ago, my husband was a widower.  His first wife who brought him five beautiful children had died a couple years earlier, after a diagnosis of breast cancer. 

And he was dating.  Not just one woman, not a couple, not even a respectable few.

Twenty-four.

He'll dispute that number, but by my count it's accurate, and covered a wide range of eligible women of various life circumstances and ages.  When we first met, I assumed it was only one woman, perhaps two, that he was dating.  By the time he asked me out initially I realized it was more, and was reluctant to become someone's hastily scribbled addition to a black book, the Tuesday night girl.   I put him off for several months as a result, not wanting to be anything more than a friend to someone who was clearly looking for companionship after the loss of a beloved wife.

Then a mutual friend gave me some very sage advice.  Go out with him once, she said.  He's a wonderful father and beloved grandfather, and respected by all who know him.  

Those were important words.  Wonderful father.  Beloved grandfather.

Not all women have the opportunity to know that their husband will be a wonderful father beforehand.  Those of us who have the luxury of seeing that in advance are fortunate.  

Being apparently the most eligible bachelor in town or at least the most socially active might have obscured that, had a good friend not shined a light on it.  Those who only knew he dated a lot might have not realized the story behind why that was, how a man who'd had one successful marriage might want another, and might not want to be alone.  For most of the three years he was a widower he went out to lunch and dinner in restaurants, and didn't like to dine alone.

This was a man who clearly loved his children, dearly, a man who'd travel five hours each way to see a son play football when he made the team, a son he supported through challenges like dyslexia.  This was a man who rescued his children when they were in need, gave them extra love and extra help when they required it, saw they got as good an education as he could manage, defended them in their dark hours, provided whatever opportunities he could for them to succeed, accepted their choice of spouse and supported their marriages, and loved them unconditionally.  This was a father who wept at the loss of a much loved son too young, a father not afraid to show tears.

I waited for such an individual, hoped they existed.  

This was a man who adored his grandchildren and was proud of them, from the soldier to the schoolgirl, high energy toddlers and charming cherubs. 

This was a man.

I would say it to any woman going onto The Bachelor as a potential contestant.  You want a good husband?  Find a good father.

It's rare they have that opportunity.  For those of us who searched and found, it's a great gift.

And I would give all those potential bachelors and bachelorettes the same advice, advice that gets beyond the trips to Paris or Portugal, the beach picnics and ballrooms, advice that will continue to serve long after the limousines and spotlights are gone.

Measure twice.  Cut once.