I am 42 years old today.
I thought for sure that I would be married with children and a white picket fence around my house by this age.
Yeah. So I give up. Surely if I were meant to be with someone, I should have met him by now, right?
So I give up. I’m just Forever Alone. I’ve made it this far by myself. It would be nice to have someone to go through life with and tell me things are going to be Ok when they go totally tits up.
But apparently, I don’t get that.