The Attraction Of A Life Devoted To

It Would Be Inappropiate, Undignified, At 38, To Conduct Friendships Or Love Affairs With The Ardour Or Intensity Of A 22 Year Old. Falling In Love Like That? Writing Poetry? Crying At Pop Songs? Dragging People Into Photobooths? Taking A Whole Day To Make A Compilation Tape? Asking People If They Wanted To Share Your Bed, Just For Company? If You Quoted Bob Dylan Or Ts Eliot Or, God Forbid, Brecht At Someone These Days They Would Smile Politely And Step Quietly Backwards, And Who Would Blame Them? Ridiculous, At 38, To Expect A Song Or Book Or Film To Change Your Life.

I Love Him, She Thought. I'm Just Not In Love With Him And Also I Don't Love Him. I've Tried, I've Strained To Love Him But I Can't. I Am Building A Life With A Man I Don't Love, And I Don't Know What To Do About It.

Be Good. Do Something Good.

She Made A Firm Resolution, One Of The Resolutions She Was Making Almost Daily These Days. No More Sleepovers, No More Writing Poetry, No More Wasting Time. Time To Tidy Up Your Life. Time To Start Again.

Once You Decide Not To Worry About That Stuff Anymore, Dating And Relationships And Love And All That, It's Like You're Free To Get On With Real Life.