A decade or so ago, Barbara Dafoe Whitehead wrote a book called Why There Are No Good Men Left: The Romantic Plight of the New Single Woman, which prompted a discussion here. This topic, of course, is evergreen, and Jennifer’s expertise is at least as extensive as mine, if not more so:
I’ve been out of the dating scene for over 15 years. My insight comes from watching you people fumble through it.
Of course, a fumble inside the five-yard line is different from a fumble on a kickoff return, but the results are suboptimal either way.
Anyway, she has a very good discussion going, with comments ranging from quietly content to deeply bitter — and really, how could it be otherwise?
In lieu of a response from me, a purely fictional (of course) equine version, after the jump.
Twilight frowned. “He was married once, but it didn’t last.”
“And how long ago was that? Five, ten years?”
“More like thirty.”
“Oh, my. That explains much by itself. A pony left alone for decades will waste away on the inside: the emptiness grows and grows until there’s no room for anything else. Perhaps it’s the same with Desert Brush.” The Princess shook her head. “On the other hoof, he has one more reason to fight on, to keep the emptiness at bay.”