It’s true- I’m single, at a ripe age (35), and yet it seems young to me, because, I’m at the earliest I’ll be until I die, I guess. Personally, I feel like Agent 99, from Get Smart, who is happy being single, and I have to say, I’m pretty happy- the only times I’m not happy is breaking up with someone or enduring pressure from my family to reproduce, and I know they’re looking out for me, but still, we have already replicated.
Tonight, though, while conducting our wily single-girl strategies (cannot reveal, blood pact and all). So Kathy- I think that it was her- said offhand, “Oh me, I’ll be the one who meets someone at 72.” I thought about it and what pure magic, I mean, to know that we will die with a smile on our face and all that. What is wrong with us, I wonder, that by default, we don’t think that we will die happy? After a few deep looks all around and relatively dumb things that you say when you are having deep thoughts, we toasted to “living our life like we die happy”. Because, really, you have a completely different outlook on life when you live it that way.