I know it’s not cool or modern or progressively female to NOT be okay with being single… But I’M NOT.
To be honest, I hate it.
It’s a menace and it makes me sad.
Not that I’m an unhappy person, that isn’t it. I have wonderful kids and friends and sisters and family and a new career path and laughter and books and coffee and delicious food and wine.
I have a good life that’s getting better every day.
Yet there is still a yearning. A space in me that is unfilled.
I make a lot of jokes and talk about the many “misses” in my dating life, but the bottom line is that I want someone to share my life with. My days and my nights…
I know. I know.
“Relationships don’t define you.”
“You shouldn’t be looking for love.”
“God will send him.”
I don’t want to hear any of that.
None of the platitudes ease my mind, comfort me, warm my bed or cure the ache for companionship that is my constant.
Yes, I’m sure this too shall pass but right now it feels relentless. Like the universe of relationships has a personal vendetta against me and decided to wage war on my coupling ability.
Dramatic, I know. But accurate.