I’m a never-married, childless, 40-something woman who believes there are still a few good guys out there, but they’re hidden within the recesses of suburbia and I have to go and smoke them out. I believe that while those around me have gone on to meet and marry their special somebody, God has greater plans for me, but He’s yet to clue me in.
I grew up in small town, North Carolina and believed I would go to college, marry after graduation and have three children(three girls to be exact) before my 35 birthday. I also believed that the boy I kissed at an 8th grade party would be the one I’d marry and spend the rest of my life with. My life is nothing like this, except for the college part. I went and in four years graduated. My real life: I live alone and the 8th grade guy ended up cheating on me when 18 years after I kissed him at that 8th grade party, we were finally an item. I’ve had two serious relationships in my life: G in my 20’s and C(the 8th grade guy) in my 30’s. In between, I’ve had a steady flow of repeat hook-ups, a few note-worthy, but short-lived flings, a hand-full of one-night stands, and countless lonely nights curled up on the sofa drinking wine and watching old episodes of Ally McBeal.
I have a good job at a global consulting firm working in internal communications. At 33, I went back to graduate school to change careers from HR to communications, and to do something more in line with my talents and interests, like writing and editing. Even with this shift, I’ve never considered myself a career woman. I work to live, not live to work. I defy the myth that if you’re single and over 40, you must have chosen your career over marriage and family. I’d quit tomorrow.
I have lived up and down the East Coast, Midwest and for a little bit, Nashville. After a 15 year hiatus from NC living, I returned home after I was hit by a car when I was living in Washington, D.C.. With over ten months of physical therapy, I’ve nearly recovered, at least physically; the emotional is a work in progress. Each time I take a step off a curb and into a crosswalk, I’m reminded that life can change on a dime. Welcome to the flip side of my dime.