I was single with no one on the horizon and to be perfectly honest, I had a feeling of great satisfaction and contentment I’d never had before in my life. I’d always had someone I liked, even if we weren’t dating and even if he had no feelings towards me.
This time though, my mind was elsewhere and thoroughly preoccupied with loving myself. I had discovered that unless you believed you were worth every bit, there was no way anyone else was going to treat you any better.
I was now a force to be reckoned with. I was The Queen and I wasn’t going to let some insipid idiot try to change that. If he couldn’t be A King and match me, then there wasn’t going to be a fairytale ending.
I was starting to think that your 20s were just a warm-up of misery and lessons to be learned so that in your 30s you discovered exactly who you were and realised that you had the power to be whoever the fuck you wanted.
34 wasn’t such a bad age after all. Even if there wasn’t a day for it.