“Sometimes parents teach us what not to do.”

We were alone, my mother and I; my father was never present, and clearly, I idolized her, placed her high atop the throne I’d built just for her. But unfortunately, I did not bring her down to wonderful but flawed human being as I grew to and through adolescence. For me, she thundered down, crashing and burning. I watched helplessly as my mother turned her life, my definition of her, over to a man who was far from worthy of her. Forty had come, and I was growing up, and in her view, away. Insecurity trapped her into thinking she had reached the end of possibility. She gained too much weight, chain smoked, stopped caring for herself. She had alienated everyone, including me, for him. I listened one night, devastated, as he yelled at her, calling her dumb, calling this goddess “bitch.” The devastating part was the tearful, sobbing apology that served as her reply. This man brought out the very worst in her, and she turned her anguish inward and fell into herself.

At the end of seven years, he walked out on her, leaving her shell lying nearly catatonic on the sofa for weeks on end. The longest she left the sofa during that period was the week she spent in the hospital for an angina attack. Her first day in the hospital, she missed my final dance recital, something we’d celebrated every year with her present of a large bouquet of roses and a trip to City Island, where we visited The Crab Shanty for my favorite seafood.

Sometimes parents teach us what not to do. It’s been twenty six years since he left her, and my mother was never again the woman I thought she was. Only weeks away from my own fortieth birthday, I can’t help but wonder at the “not” lessons I teach my own children. From my mother, I have learned the danger of not owning myself. Of not loving myself, of giving up. I struggle with it daily, but for this woman of forty, my mother’s daughter, autonomy is paramount not only to soul survival, but to living and being.

Tricia Amiel: After ten years of teaching English, I’ve finally begun to live my dream of being a working writer.  Lucky me.  I have three children 19, 19, and 9…a little poetic.  Life is good. I’m also a freelance writer, editor, and proofreader available for work.  For additional information or to contact Tricia, email us at info@womenatforty.com.

I wrote this last year after the nature of a few of my relationships changed. I realized that it wasn’t the other person that changed, it was me. I’d decided I no longer wanted to pretend to be ok with the way things were, and as a consequence, I was probably no longer considered  by them to be very nice. Welcome to my “new nice.”

A friend recently released a children’s book called Nice to be Nice. She’s also a blogger, so we frequently find ourselves discussing the nice and not so nice behavior of the people around us. Whether it’s the mother allowing her toddler to scream his way through the grocery store, or it’s the man who, tiring of the display, smacks the kid square in the mouth, something’s just a bit off in society today. I think some adults have forgotten, and many kids just don’t know that it really is nice to be nice. That said, as I get older I find myself embracing a different kind of nice.

In my twenties, being nice meant having conversations with people I knew were lying to me, and not calling them on it. It meant being so concerned about hurting someone else’s feelings that I allowed them to hurt mine. It meant being aware of people’s negative attitudes but pretending to be ok with it anyway. And it meant doing things I didn’t want to do, even when I knew doing them wasn’t right for me. I did all of those things because I wanted to be nice. I didn’t want to rock the boat, and I wanted to avoid having certain conversations with certain people, at all cost.

But I had a light bulb moment almost ten years ago. I wrote about it last week, in the best advice I ever got.  It was during this conversation that my friend asked me why I got so upset when she did and said the things she did and said. The same things she’d been doing and saying for years. She was absolutely right to ask the question. And for years, I’d been too “nice” to tell her that many of the things she’d done had hurt me deeply. To preserve the friendship I let those things slide. As a result, I grew to resent her, and more importantly myself, for not thinking enough of myself to end a friendship that had become toxic. I vowed then, never again to be “so nice” that I lose myself in the process.

For the most part, I’ve kept my promise.  While the 20’s me would ignore my spirit telling me “girl, now you know something is wrong with this picture”  the soon to be 40 me has a BS meter so finely calibrated that I can spot a crock while it’s still being formed in someone’s head and shut it down before it has a chance to do damage. It’s a great skill to have.  Having it means that sometimes I stop BS-ers dead in their tracks. As a result, BS-ers do not think I’m nice. Neither do people who always want something for nothing, people who take others for granted, nor do the married men whom I immediately shut down when they, wedding ring securely on ring finger, “just want to holler at me for a minute.” These people don’t think I’m nice, and I don’t want them to.

Over the years, I’ve lost sight of my “new nice” a few times, but these days it’s much easier to be me, even if it means someone doesn’t like me. I help old people cross the street, offer rides to friends in need and genuinely wish real joy and success for everyone who crosses my path. I celebrate when the underdog wins and I’m frustrated when the greedy seem to prosper on the backs of the weak.  I’m as nice as the next guy – or girl. But I’ve tempered my niceness with a bit of wisdom. My mother would call it discernment. I call it my “new nice.”

Have you redefined your nice? How? Share your definition of nice in the comment section, on our Facebook Fan page or on Twitter @womenatforty.

Christine Eclavea Mercer

In 2010, I will turn 40. I spent my twenties educating myself, growing up, working, and traveling. I did much of it badly. At 27, it finally occurred to me that if I ever wished to procreate I should find myself attracted to nice men, instead of the bad boys of my youth.  Else I would be childless forever, or a single parent.  I did not find either of those options agreeable.

My standards certainly changed in my thirties.  Before that I imagined success the way children do, that one must be the CEO, the President, the Astronaut, the Prima Ballerina. I was taught to aim high like the Air Force.

Children and family were an idea in my twenties, the thing that kept me from getting to work on time because I was stuck behind the school bus, or giving me a headache on the screaming baby flight.  They were the thing my mother nagged about at every phone conversation – the reason I stopped calling.

In 1998 the most backward wonderful thing happened:  I lost my job.  It was a window opening for me.  I left my jackass (now ex) husband.  And moved to Atlanta to be with my grandmother, who had recently been diagnosed with cancer.  By the time I arrived for good it was 1999.

I won’t bore you with the whole of it.  That’s the meat.  That, and the fact that I declared myself a person who liked men who are nice, and have the ability to stay in one location for more than the number of months between deployments by the military, transfers by the FBI, or sudden relocation by more sinister organizations that shall not be named.

Voila, new town, new decade, new me.  Mostly.  My damn driving record and total inability to drive 55 followed me.

My grandmother welcomed me with kisses on both cheeks, a lunch of grapes, cheese and baguette, and a jar of Nivea Daily Nourishing Cream.  She swore by the stuff and had been tucking it into my suitcase for about five years by then.  It was her secret skin recipe that was not at all secret.  My mother had rejected it.  And she was determined to pass it on.

I found it a bit heavy, except in January when the central heat sucks every last drop of moisture from the air.  But I kept it.  I gave away the extra jars to friends when they commented on her fabulous skin.  I always had four or five laying around.  I couldn’t refuse them.  She wouldn’t allow me to.  And anyway, I am not my mother.

Due to her insistence that I take the Nivea, and my very slow progress in using it up, I have donated countless jars of it to battered women’s shelters over the years.  All because I could not say no to my grandmother.  And she insisted that her skin was fabulous because of the Nivea and the good genes.

Around the time I turned 35, which is when my body went crazy in general, I started to use the Nivea for more months out of the year, all winter long instead of only January.  And now, at 39, I start using it when the temperature drops below 70 degrees and continue until April or May.  I suppose that when I’m 85, if I live that long and the Nivea is still being made I’ll be using it all year long.

I’ve replaced most commercial beauty products with preservative-free handmade goods.  Even things I thought would be too weirdly hippie smelling and creepy to use in their more natural forms, like shampoo bars and deodorant sans aluminum have appeared among my toiletries.  The Nivea lingers.

I’m not usually sentimental.  But I’m almost 40.  So I allow myself some sentimentality now.  I never imagined living this long.  And it’s these sentimental ideas that bind families together.  I never appreciated them before.

Both of my parents are long since passed.  And my grandmother died this year.  She spent years telling me things followed by the words, because eventually I die.

I’ve started telling DD to pay attention to things about family history, because eventually I die.  I’ve been told this is premature.  But on my mothers timeline I’ve got less than a decade left. (A fluke probably, but still.)

So I’m declaring these things for the record, the Nivea, my stupid ass mistakes, the fact that I no longer give a a shit if I’m ever the CEO or married to one, that being successfully married means being still married, and successful career means employed with a roof over your head.  Because eventually I die.

It isn’t so macabre, just practical.  DD is not even creeped out by it.  I’m passing on the crazy Frog sensibility.  And the Nivea.

Thanks to Christine for sharing her blog post with Women at Forty. You can read her original post on her blog, Frog in North Georgia.

Photo: Christine Eclavea Mercer

Editor’s note: Tricia’s approaching 40 and she’s on a roll. Literally. No really, literally. She’s recently decided to follow her life long passion for writing and literature wherever it leads her. This week it’s taking her to a place of letting go of anger and a failed marriage and replacing it with forgiveness and love. All this as she approaches the age of reason…

As I count down the six weeks to my fortieth birthday, it occurs to me how my thinking has changed this year. I’ve let go of many ideas that were holding me back, keeping me cocooned in immaturity, and am approaching the rise to many others.

I’ve let go of anger toward my parents for not protecting me enough, for not being there for me when I needed guidance; instead, I now see those days when I battled it out on the streets, in the schools, and in my relationships in the Bronx as fertile ground for the strength I needed to overcome emotional, mental, and physical difficulties. I appreciate now the tools my mother gave me to survive when she was unable to teach me herself: books, and my love of the written word.

I am finally coming to that long dreamed of place in my life in which my passion for literature and writing are coming to the fore of my existence, earning me peace and contentment. To my father, I am grateful for the lesson that men are, as my mother has said, “a luxury, not a necessity,” and that I’d always had enough love. Early and consistent abuse from a relative taught me that I now have the ability to protect myself and others. It taught me, too, to look closely at my family’s dynamics, wherein I have gained revelations that feed my being.

In the past month of my journey to forty, I have let go, finally, of my failed marriage. I no longer lay blame at my ex-husband and his wife’s feet. Like so many other women in that realm, I have, over the years, gone through every phase of the healing process, only to find myself angry and bitter, tearing my soul out of its skin in the end. Now I know that really, there is nothing left to be angry about; I needed a life without that man in it, but the years I spent with him taught me some very valuable lessons about what is important to me in this life. It’s been so hard to get there, but I learned that I am an entity of and unto myself, that autonomy is the best of all worlds for me, and the freedom to be who I am is worth its weight in what I didn’t or couldn’t earn inside that marriage. I am grateful that his wife took him out of my way, lightening my emotional space so that I could exist there as I am—good AND bad.

Perhaps because I’d always idealized the age of forty, I am discovering what it truly means to grow into my elder consciousness as well as my aging spirit. No, I don’t look like I did twenty years ago, but that’s cool—beauty is different at this age. Beauty is how I feel, what I think, and how I put my thoughts into words that sustain me. My laughter is a song to me now, rather than a long, loud façade over my pain.

Forty is everything I imagined it to be, and many things I did not. Most of all, forty is the me I always wanted to be, with room to grow. Hello, forty. I’ve been waiting for you like a long lost love. We are me, and I am almost exactly who I want to be.

Is/was 40 your age of reason? Share your reflections on 40 in the comment section or on our Facebook Fan Page.

Tricia Amiel on Tricia: After ten years of teaching English, I’ve finally begun to live my dream of being a working writer.  Lucky me.  I have three children 19, 19, and 9…a little poetic.  Life is good. I’m also a freelance writer, editor, and proofreader available for work.  For additional information or to contact Tricia, email us at info@womenatforty.com.

Looking back over my numerous lists I can’t help but laugh at some of the qualities I thought were essential when I was younger. One particularly embarrassing desire I held was to have a man who could sing and play football. Not necessarily at the professional level (because that would be ridiculous) but I imagine I must have thought that the combination of singing and football would somehow get me out of a major life jam sometime in the future. I even found an entry about my dream man having long eyelashes – because you know, that’s the telltale sign of a good man.

When I was going through my Maxwell phase I needed a man with big, wild, out-of-this-world hair. And after a waiter sent shivers down my spine at a restaurant in New York, I was determined to find someone who made me feel the same way every single day of my life. I’ve yet to find either. Then there was the 6’2” or taller height requirement, the great dresser requirement and let’s not forget the “corporate type” requirement. That was until I realized that most men who were always in a suit and tie were always working and/or were not necessarily that handy around the house.

Thank God for growing up. As I grew up I also grew out of some of the things I once thought were so important. But what’s been as interesting as what’s dropped off my list is what’s remained. I’ve always wanted someone who shared the same core spiritual beliefs as I do and I’ve also always wanted someone who was kind and giving, gentle and understanding. But I also now understand that a man who listens, really listens, is essential to any strong relationship.

What matters today and what’s always mattered most is character. The body that character is housed in doesn’t have to be a 6’2”, singing football player with unbelievably long eyelashes. In fact, I’d be nervous if it was. What’s important is that we see eye to eye on the things that matter the most in life. Well, that and he’s got to have a neck. I’ve come a long way, and so has my list, but I’m not willing to compromise on the neck thing.

What’s on your list? Share yours in our comment section or on our Facebook fan page.

So what makes the elusive one so elusive – is it a numbers game? There’s no shortage of statistics that tell us the ratio of single women to men – remember the line from the now infamous Newsweek article – a  ‘40-year-old single woman was “more likely to be killed by a terrorist” than to ever marry (Newsweek later apologized for the ridiculous line.) Are we being unrealistic – do we want something, someone who just doesn’t exist? Or have we limited our own chances of meeting someone great because we’re firmly entrenched in our comfort zones and nothing short of a miracle is going to budge us.

20 years after that Newsweek article we live in a society where many single women are perfectly happy – maybe even happier – being confirmed bachelorettes. For many, being unmarried and/or single at 40 doesn’t carry the stigma it once did. And so now, the search for Mr. Right is about finding a soul companion and not about feeling the need to be married because they’re a certain age. For these women, whether the search is like the hunt for red October, or whether it takes a more laid back approach, the desire still exists to find “the one” – which brings us back to those darn lists.

At 20, the list was easy. He was gorgeous, tall, rich – but humble about it, nice – but not a pushover, sweet, kissed babies, loved his mama, had no kids, remembered birthdays, etc…and was gorgeous. And did I mention he was gorgeous? But as we get older, and hopefully wiser, the list changes a bit. We still want someone we’re physically attracted to, but what we find attractive at 40 is probably a little different than at 20 (remember high top fades?) For some of us, gone are the height requirements, the status symbols and the career requirements. We learn that men who are great fathers make some of the best boyfriends. And we now know for sure that who he is, is far more important than what he does, wears or drives. We still want the things on our list, but the list is shorter, has been tested by time, and the qualities that remain are essential.

On our search for  “the one” some of us have ventured out of our comfort zones by dating men we never imagined we would. But many of us, although wanting companionship, stay “safely” within the boundaries we’ve erected for ourselves. We’ve got a long list of the men we won’t date – men who are younger, older, fall outside of our ethnicity or race, political beliefs, denomination… and the list goes on and on.  No one’s suggesting we compromise our core beliefs for anyone, and certainly not for “the one”, but are our own fears and preconceived notions holding us back? Are we making “the one” even more elusive than he has to be? (Image: sunshinecity)

This week we want to hear your thoughts on “the one” and that infamous list. Have you ever made a list, and how do you feel about the whole list thing anyway? Are you still waiting for the one or have you found him? And are you willing to venture outside of your comfort zone to find him? Join the conversation by sharing your thoughts in the comment section, on our Facebook fan page or emailing us at contribute@womenatforty.com.

It’s a safe bet The Back-up Plan will never win an Oscar, but it was chock full of interesting topics just waiting for great women at forty conversations, including:

• Adopting plan-B for life when plan A doesn’t happen – We touched on that in yesterday’s post, A new take on the old back-up plan.
• How our biological clock shapes our views of children and family – Upon hearing that Zoe wants to have children, her best friend asks her incredulously, “do you want to see my vagina? I’ll show you my vagina!” Err…no thanks. And just last week Jillian Michaels set off alarms when she talked about not wanting to deal with the physical changes of motherhood. Many of you sounded off on her comments and we’ll share your thoughts.
• Single moms and the movie’s treatment of them – The single moms in the group seemed to resent Zoe finding a partner, and was it just me, or did they all seem a bit odd? And we’ll join the ongoing, and sometimes heated conversation about raising kids today without fathers.
• A world without penis partners – The movie’s term not ours – yes, well…we’ll tread lightly on that one, but the term was kind of catchy.
• The “elusive one” – aka a penis partner, but so much more…

You don’t have to wait until the posts air to express your views – we want to hear what you’ve got to say, so share your thoughts anytime in the comment section, email them to contribute@womenatforty.com or post them on our Facebook Fan Page.

Saw the movie

autism, ADD http://www.newsweek.com/id/237178/page/2

A couple of weeks ago I had the pleasure of interviewing Jo. Jo lives in England and is a woman in her late 30’s married to a younger man, and she does NOT want to be labeled a cougar. Throughout her life Jo had always been drawn to younger men, and in 2005 she met a man – 10 years her junior – and within a year, they were married.  Here’s what she has to say about marriage, marriage to a younger man, and why she hates the term ‘Cougar’.

On why she decided to marry, and why this man:

“I met him in my mid thirties, long after the majority of my friends had settled down with their same-age partners. Before that, I hadn’t been prepared to settle down. In some ways, I felt that doing so would compromise my own identity. When I met my husband-to-be, he was a breath of fresh air. There were no expectations on me to behave and act a particular way, and no notions of what a ‘wife’ should be, which I suspect an older man may have had. We both wanted a committed relationship, but we both also wanted fun in our life together, and our life has been just that.”

On finding compatibility in marriage:

“Finding the right man to spend your life with is a matter of compatibility. Some women are going to be more compatible with guys their own age or older, while others are going to have a lifestyle and outlook that is more compatible with a younger guy. At this age, we surely know ourselves well enough to make that decision and go find the right guy based on that self-knowledge.”

The ups and downs of being with a younger man:

“Well, he looks fantastic, and his energy and enthusiasm are contagious. But of course, dating a younger guy isn’t always easy. Sometimes it’s very difficult not to step in when we see them making a mistake we made ourselves when we were their age. But just because they are younger doesn’t mean they are not an equal partner in the relationship – and as such, they need to grow and learn for themselves, and sometimes that means making their own mistakes. It’s important to not lose sight of that. They chose us as a partner, not as a mother – and it’s important for any relationship to respect our partner on equal terms. Also, younger men tend not to be as further along in their careers. That can result in a financial inequity that, as it would in other marriages, cause a certain degree of conflict.”

On the term ‘Cougar’:

“Regarding the ‘cougar’ term, I really dislike it. Who wants to be defined by the age of the man she dates? Aren’t we all grown up enough to be beyond that? It’s predatory and insinuates that women are out to merely play around with these guys, when the reality is that more and more of us are actually choosing a younger guy as a life partner. I hate the assumption that just because my husband is younger than I am that I somehow coerced him into being with me, or that I finance his lifestyle, when the reality couldn’t be further from the truth.”

On why she launched her website, Beyond Cougar:

In 2010, seeing the media hype surrounding older women with younger men, Jo decided it was time to put fingers to keyboard, and get writing! There was plenty of ‘cougar-esque’ material out there, aimed at women who were looking to empower themselves and their lives. However, very few women who were actually with younger men were joining in the conversation. So, in January 2010, Jo founded Beyond Cougar, where she shares her thoughts on the realities of relationships with younger men. Beyond Cougar is also focused on breaking down the existing cougar stereotype – after all, what modern woman wishes to be defined, purely on the age of the man they choose to date?

Jo is a marketing professional who also holds an MA in Creative Writing from Kingston University, London. You can read her thoughts on all things “Beyond Cougar” on her website, http://beyondcougar.wordpress.com.

Share your thoughts on the whole Cougar craze, Jo’s interview and whether you find the term Cougar derogatory or not, in the comment section or on our Facebook fan page.

Editor’s Note: Thus begins one of the most heartfelt comments we’ve ever received on the site. It was made in response to our Relationship 2.0: Love, fear and everything in between post, and it struck a chord with us as I’m sure it will with you. The reader, who signed the comment “Too ashamed to give a name” has been unlucky in love and is now at the point of giving up. Her self esteem is low and rather than looking forward to turning 40, she’s dreading the fine lines and grey hairs that she feels will make her unattractive. I asked her permission to run her comment as a feature story in the hopes that other women who’ve been in her shoes and have felt some of the things she’s feeling can provide some words of wisdom that can help her begin to see herself, turning 40 and relationships in a whole new light…

I will be 40 in a few weeks and I’ve never been in a real relationship. I’ve tried all the things in this post. As soon as I got a real job & moved out of my small town I logged onto all the dating sites (they were free back then) and over a 2-year period met face-to-face with more than 20 men. I only saw 2 of them after that initial first date. I did not become romantically involved with either of them, and I am no longer in contact with either of them. And yes, I have “asked him out”. On multiple occasions. I’ve discovered that asking men out is the quickest way to make them disappear from my life.

No one would go near me in high school because I was a nerd. There was one boy that I liked for a long time. He was nice to my face, then when my back was turned he would tell our classmates that he hated my guts. In college I dated an emotionally abusive jerk for 5 months. 10 years later I hooked up with a co-worker after we’d spent 6 months flirting with each other. We were working late in the office and to make a long story short we ended up kissing. To make another long story short I ended up at his place where we did some X-rated fooling around. After he got off I thought he’d be a gentleman and return the favor. He just shrugged and said that he always needed to sleep after orgasm, then proceeded to kick me out of his apartment. At 3am. He didn’t want very much to do with me after that. A few months later I got another job and moved away and I haven’t heard from him since. This occurred 10 years ago, and there’s been nothing and no one since.

There’s an article on this site that says it’s possible to maintain passion at 40, it’s just harder. I’ve never even had a chance to let it start! And that makes me so profoundly sad. Jodee Blanco says that the hardest part of being an outcast isn’t the love and warmth you don’t receive, it’s the love and warmth you’re not able to give. It just builds up inside you and backs up like sewer rot. She’s dead right. And now that I’m getting old it just crushes me inside to think that no man will ever want me. I’ve never been very attractive–I’m not hideous, I’m just not someone that would make a man sit up and take notice when she walks in a room. And now that I’m getting old I’ll be less and less attractive, and whatever chance I ever had of finding someone is evaporating right in front of my eyes every time I look in the mirror and see the fine lines and the hair that’s just starting to turn gray.

I wish I could just give up and accept the fact that no man is ever going to want me. But love and sex and romance and all that stuff just seems like such an important part of life, and whenever I consider the ever-more-real possibility that I may never experience it, it just makes me cry. Why did God make me so horrible? I used to think that the reason I was alone was because God was saving me for a very special person. But now I’m thinking that it’s just never going to happen. And I feel like I’ve been screwed out of one of the most fundamental reasons for wanting to be alive.

I always thought that if I just had one chance to be with someone special I would be the best girlfriend ever, that I would love this man with my heart and soul. I’d be his friend, his lover, his confidant, his partner, whatever he needed, as long as he loved me back. But I now realize that this is a fairy tale. And fairy tales never come true, do they?

I’m sure many of you have felt similar emotions throughout your lives – unloved, unattractive, unwanted, but how did you climb out of that and start rewriting your story? And can fairy tales ever come true? Share your thoughts in the comment section and on our Facebook fan page.

On dating:

OK, so is there a thin line between just friends and dating line at 40? Did it move from when we were in our 20s or 30s? There is this older guy who I enjoy spending time with – dinner, movies, chatting on the phone, etc. He insists that we’re not dating, but he won’t let 24 hours go by without “checking” in. Before you even ask, yes he’s the only guy that I’m spending time with (other guy friends don’t get 10% face time – mostly chat/email or cell buddies) and he says that he could never handle more than one female friend at a time. So back to what started this – just what crosses the line between just friends and dating?

On what’s sexy:

Sexy is knowing what to wear that compliments your best features – the tailoring of the suit/swagger of the sport attire, the style of the shoe, the line of the haircut, the moisturizer to use on the skin and the scent to top it off. All this speaks to knowing yourself and what you have to offer…. without spending more time in the mirror than me!

On motherhood – Does the bell toll for me:

I am nearing forty..within a few years. I’m one week away from divorcing my husband.. and we never had kids. For the 8 years we were married I wanted kids only about 10% of the time. I think it was the person I was married to. Something was just not right. After I separated from my husband I met a wonderful older man who was already a father to two grown boys and wow, he not only set off my biological clock, it went off like a TIME BOMB. Unfortunately that relationship didn’t last and I am alone again. The decision to have children or not has not been an easy one for me. In my very early twenties before I was married I became pregnant out of wedlock and had an abortion. I think about that a lot now, to be truthful. There is a lot of sadness that comes to me at times when I see a pregnant woman – I often wonder what it is like. Then I hear the stories of the midnight feedings, diaper changes gone wrong, exploding poo, and spitup and I think, hmm. I am not sure I can do that. I believe that the path of my life is slowly being revealed to me page by page. Hopefully one day I will be able to face the uncertainty and make a decision. Until then I am enjoying being able to do what I want, when I want. My hope is that a wonderful man will enter my life, we will fall in love, and perhaps, have a family.

Share your thoughts on motherhood, what is and isn’t sexy, and dating in the comment section or on our Facebook fan page.