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Can I be happy, like for real happy, alone?

Eight years ago, as a 35-year-old woman without children living in the suburbs of Chicago, it dawned on me that I did not want to be married. At the time, I thought I just didn’t want to be married to that guy. So, we parted way after lots of tears and I nonchalantly went about seeking his replacement.

I’m sure stories of both the marriage and the subsequent years will find their way onto this screen. But for now, I want to focus on today. Now, I’m a 43-year-old woman without children (still). Single. Living in Chicago. With the cutest Portuguese Water Dog this side of the Atlantic. His name is Ocho and he will FOR SURE be featured here.

Frankly, I am shocked that I am 43 and single. I seriously thought it would be easier to find “my guy.” Whatever that means. I was still in my 30s (read fertile). Lost a cool 30 pounds. Successful. I did (and still do) cool things. Had (and still do) lots of friends. And lived in the 3rd largest city in the United States. It should be simple, right?

Uh, no.

And this search for “the guy,” has left me feeling tired and empty and on my really dark days (which are gratefully few and far between)… questioning what the point of any of this is.

So, now I find myself on a different journey. I want to figure out how (and if) I can authentically come to terms with being out here on my own, for now and, possibly, forever.

And, I know I am not alone. So, I’ve created a place for me to reflect and be intentional about my journey and perhaps to build a community of like-minded human beings (’cause I know this is not just a female phenomenon) just trying to figure it out.

Thanks for joining me,
Gretchen