I tell myself “I’ll meet someone someday” along with everyone else, and it really does me a disservice. I’ll be 26 in a few days and my mission is to just be happy with me because I’ll always be stuck with myself anyway.
I appreciate your interest, your concern, and your take — I really do.
I have been told this with sincerity by people who love me, who genuinely want what’s best for me. I’m not angry with them, because they mean well.
I’m an almost-typical member of the demographic that gets written about most often — late 20-something, solitary urban-dwelling, single female with a job that keeps me happy but not totally fulfilled and 20-something, urban-dwelling happy hour companions whom I love a lot. Almost-typical — I’m single now, and I have always been. I’m not sure I’ve been within reaching distance of coupled. I’m generally [always] the woman who experiences the “slow fade” — guy expresses interest, we go out a couple of times, we engage in the battle of “he who cares less wins,” I usually lose, and I spend the next year or two getting text messages every four months. I’ve taken…
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