In 2016, I had a minor experience at a dinner party that became a major life-changing event, like a pebble thrown into a pond sending waves lapping against the shore. I was 32 years old and I was single. My friends, in a friendly way, asked me that night, “So, what’s going on with your love life?”
In a moment of vulnerability, I admitted nothing was going on with my love life. Nothing had been going on for quite some time. And I was pretty sure nothing ever would get going again. I voiced my deep suspicion that I might end up being alone for ever.
Looking back now, at almost 38, I can shake my head a bit at the idea of my younger
