I recently heard an interesting statistic — more than 80 percent of single people over 50 say they are happy with their single status. I am one of them. I bet most of them, like me, initially thought things were going to go just great in their second or third or fourth round of finding true love. And then came the experience so horrible/pathetic/humiliating they realized how unbelievably happy they already were.
In my case, it was a man I’ll call William. I met him at a party. He seemed okay in a California-y way: bouncy, healthy, upbeat, and the author of an unpublished New Age novel I hoped never to read. Two days later he called to ask me out.