Last weekend, I spent four days with three other people, all single, in their mid-to-late 30s. Together, we were two women and two men.
Some days we spoke about being single. The men bragged about their proficient activities across all the dating apps while the women spoke of their frustration and resentment with their past experiences. I shared that one of my readers had requested I write about life as a single woman in her late 30s and that it kind of jarred me. I never thought to label myself in that way, even though those words fit.