Some people see being single as an active, positive choice, but for several years that wasn’t my experience. I railed against it, resenting the fact that I was alone. I had dated a lot, but why couldn’t I find the right man? Why had someone I really liked rejected me? Why did all my friends have husbands or boyfriends and kids, while I spent ages lurching from lust to loneliness and back again? It didn’t seem fair.
Each time I had a bad experience, or a good one, I had a tendency to tell all my female friends, providing endless information about the man who said I was awesome but kept cancelling, the date whose dog was more interested in me than he was, or the bloke I knew as a teenager with whom my mother set me up as an adult (predictably, a disaster).
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