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“Don’t give up, ” my friend urged me, my shoulder in her hand, a vodka martini in mine.
“You’ll find something that feels right eventually.”I realized that it had somehow, unbelievably, been a decade since I was in love. I can, often to my own detriment, fill hours, days, sometimes weeks, with actives of complete solitude without a speck of loneliness. Intent on my career, being single felt more like a badge than a blemish.
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I’d had relationships — some serious, one as short as a day, and more two- to three-month experiments than I could count — but for the most part, for the bulk of my adult life, I had been single. I watched friends from high school, then couples from college, pair up and settle down. I wanted independence, self-discovery, the autonomy to make my own choices.