I never wanted to marry. And, I never have done so. But, something in me envies certain women, no matter how old and ugly they may be outwardly, who are married and sport that “thing”.

It’s not that I’m a radical feminist. It’s not that I had a very bad childhood. It’s a very practical decision: One, I don’t want to get fat from childbearing; and, two, I needed sufficient selfishness and time and space to pursue my interests. Children, and losing my consequent desirability, ain’t my kipper tie.

What is it that makes me jealous of married women my age? For a long time, I just couldn’t…

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