And that’s not a bad thing. It’s just a thing. That’s not a relegation to an unfulfilled life. It’s not the swan song of a sad and pathetic old maid. It’s not the determination to live in eternal unhappiness. Rather it’s a shift in my personal thinking. It’s a belief that my pot of gold may be just for me. It’s an attitude of making my life something I love on my own instead of waiting for someone else to complete it. It’s me spitting on Mr. Jerry Maguire because I don’t believe I need him to complete me anymore. Maybe I’m meant to complete myself. And maybe that’s okay too. Conventional wisdom is still otherwise. Everytime I catch up with old friends invariably they want to know if I’m seeing someone. If I say yes, they see me as happier. If I say no, they assure me I will still meet the one. It’s not too late, poor little single Jane. Right now, for all of those misguided souls, I’m staging a revolt. Whether or not I’m seeing someone does not define my ability to be happy. Getting married or having children does not equal the successful completion of life goals. There is not only one ending to this fairytale. I can be complete and yes Virginia, even happy, with or without a man. I am redefining happily ever after. Starting now.