I've decided he's probably right. Nobody else is going to want me. Or, rephrased, none of the sort of guys that I would want are going to want me. I'm ugly, and even if I got cosmetic surgery, I still don't have the all-important social graces and poise that it takes to get on in this world where "normal" is so paramount to success.

But, I'm not going to let it bother me. I have a lot of kids, a lot of goats, and a lot of interesting things to do. The world won't end if I don't have a mate or if some time goes by and things eventually do work out between Tim and I.

I have a house to clean. A big yard to landscape and plant flowers in, and to make vegetable beds for. Paintings to paint, books to read, quilts to finish, all sorts of great things to do. There's more to life than romantic love. And while I undeniably would like that, not so much for sex or financial security or sheer romance as much for simple companionship and long term bonding, it might not happen for me anymore, or maybe friendship is what I'll get. I have a life to live. I'm not going to sit around wasting it with wishful thinking.