Being single sucks!
When I was in my 20s, I declared that if I didn’t have a baby by the time I was 35yrs old, then I wasn’t going to have one at all. I was firm on this point, never conceiving of the possibility that I would get to thirty-five and not be married with two children and no dogs. And then before I knew it, thirty-three came. I calculated that I would have to meet Mr. Right, date for a year, marry in six months, and get pregnant right away to meet my deadline. Of course, I had to meet him that day. Well, Dec 3, 2002, came and went, and now my timeline was getting crunched. Dec 3, 2003, rolled around, and I calculated that I could still date for a year, but the engagement needed to be shorter, and if I was at least pregnant by thirty-five, then I would call it good. But thirty-four came and went and there was no Mr. Right. There wasn’t even a Mr. Could-Be-Right!