For decades, we pursued guys and got nowhere. I quickly discovered simple tips to sit within the passenger’s seat.
“Do you need to get married?” “Do you need to have children?”
Inside my 30s, I tolerated these “well-meaning” concerns.
By the time we switched 45, these concerns were increasingly delivered in past tense using the sympathy frequently reserved for some body with terminal cancer: “Did you wish to get married?” “Did you want to possess children?”