Maybe you snuck out of the B&B in the middle of the night. You couldn't eat dinner, and you love dinner.

And the dog - how could you not fall for the man and his dog? One day, while taking a break from kayaking, when you least expected it, maybe he pulled out a ring and asked you to marry him. He loved and respected you like no man had before. Then, maybe you met the one who was that into you. You learned he wasn't the one who got away. Hell, he wasn't even all that nice to you. Finally, you got through your thick noggin that the guy just wasn't that into you. You stupidly took the crumbs he tossed you from time to time and thought they had meaning. So even after you read the diary he'd left out, oops, learned about the Brazilian woman with amazing eyes, broke up and dated others, you still held out hope for him. He'd changed your life, after all, when he lured you to Israel (though it could have been Thailand, for all you cared) - allowing you to claim that Jewish side of yourself you'd never embraced before.Īnd maybe he slipped and called you his soul mate at one point, a statement you caught and remembered. Maybe you were and still are a hopeful (I refuse to say hopeless) romantic who for years held a candle for the one you thought was The One. Maybe you're a searcher with a healthy dose of wanderlust, someone who needed time to commit to furniture, let alone a man, because there was so much you needed to see, do and become. So maybe your faith in men and marriage was a little shaken before you teased your hair for the prom.īut that's nothing some therapy and better hair sense can't fix, right? Maybe your first love cheated on you, just around the time a second divorce rolled through your family. And maybe the father who did get you had been relegated by the courts, when you were 2 and your parents divorced, to every-other-weekend access. Maybe you spent your adolescence clashing with a stepfather who didn't get you emotionally. Maybe, like me, that's where you are, too.

Of course I'd love to meet and marry that one and only, but in the meantime I'm living my life, and I'm taking everything that's been given me on the journey. Like Jennifer Aniston, minus the killer body and bank account, I'm happy. And while I've been guilty of occasional transgressions that might fit in some of those unflattering boxes, McMillan doesn't touch why I'm not married.īased on the buzz surrounding her conversation-starting piece, I'm laying down and lining up behind reason number seven: Life happens.īefore reading on, know that I am not and refuse to be woe-is-me. Perhaps she was talking about why her own marriages failed or was simply setting out to get a rise, which she did brilliantly. I'll be the first to admit I've got issues (c'mon, who doesn't?), but I'm not owning these. To hear it from the thrice-divorced McMillan, I'm 41 and not married because of one (or more?) of six reasons: I'm a bitch, a slut, a liar, shallow, selfish or not good enough. And now I'm fired up - not in an angry way but in the sort of way that made me skip to my desk, excited to type. I'm not sure how it took nearly a week for her Huffington Post column, ' Why You're Not Married,' to land in front of me, but it finally did. (CNN) - Tracy McMillan has gotten under my single-status skin.

Got dammit im not court