I'm 38 And I'm Single, And I'm

Something Is Missing: That's As Close As I Can Come To Naming The Sensation, An Awareness Of Missed Or Thwarted Connections, Or Of A Great Hollowness Left Where Something Lovely And Solid Used To Be. ...there Is Something Fundamentally Insatiable About Being Human, As Though We Come Into The World With A Kind Of Built-in Tension Between The Experience Of Being Hungry, Which Is A Condition Of Striving And Yearning, And The Experience Of Being Fed, Which May Offer Temporary Satisfaction But Always Gives Way To New Strivings, New Yearnings.

Love—the Desire To Love And Be Loved, To Hold And Be Held, To Give Love Even If Your Experience As A Recipient Has Been Compromised Or Incomplete—is The Constant On The Continuum Of Hunger, It's What Links The Anorexic To The Garden-variety Dieter, It's The Persistent Pulse Of Need And Yearning Behind The Reach For Food, For Sex, For Something.

When I Drank, The Part That Felt Dangerous And Needy Grew Bright And Strong And Real. The Part That Coveted Love Kicked Into Gear. The Yes Grew Louder Than The No.

Dogs Have Such Short Life Spans, It's Like A Concentrated Version Of A Human Life. When They Get Older, They Become Much More Like Our Mothers. They Wait For Us, Watch Out For Us, Are Completely Fascinated By Everything We Do.

When You Quit Drinking You Stop Waiting.