To those who never found "The One," what’s aging like?

I'm a 74-year-old man, and I haven’t given up—I’m still searching for my partner. I believe there’s someone out there to share my final years with.

I'm a 69-year-old woman, twice married. My first husband died at 40, and I divorced the second. After that, I had two longer and two shorter relationships. I never had children, and I don’t regret it. I’ve lived alone for eight years and truly enjoy it. I don’t have to cater to anyone—I do what I want. Maybe it’s my upbringing or my own fault, but I used to pamper my partners too much. Now, I live much more peacefully, with my life revolving around me—and that feels just right.

As a man, I was never good at compromises, so it’s no surprise I ended up alone in my old age. I always thought marriage meant giving up too much of yourself. How’s life now? It varies. Sometimes I think this is best, other times I wish I had someone by my side.

I don’t believe in "The One," and that helps me cope with being a 65-year-old bachelor. I was in love a few times when I was younger, but after thinking five times that someone was my soulmate, I realized it’s nonsense. I see "The One" as a harmful myth that sets unrealistic expectations and leads to disappointment if you don’t find this perfect partner. I’m more rational, so I don’t see being single in old age as a tragedy. Besides, as an artist, my true love has always been music.

I'm a 77-year-old woman who always knew there’s no "The One." That idea only creates unrealistic expectations and inevitable disappointment, sadness, and resentment. You can only count on yourself—I felt that even in relationships. Now, in old age, I’m grateful I don’t have to tolerate, serve, or care for a grumpy old man. My sister found her "One," but her husband died ten years ago, so as a widow, she’s in the same place as me: alone.

As a researcher, my work was always more important than marriage or children, and back then, I didn’t mind missing out on those. But now, at 70, loneliness hits me so hard I feel crushed. No one pays attention to a seventy-year-old woman. As a respected researcher, I never imagined society would overlook me like this in old age.

Thank you, I’m very happy! I divorced young but have two grown children who visit often, and my grandchildren bring me great joy. I meet my girlfriends twice a week—once for coffee, once for bridge at my place. My social life is livelier than my nieces in their teens and twenties, and I have zero interest in having a man around.

Honestly, it’s not easy being an old woman alone. My heart aches when I see elderly couples holding hands. I have health issues, but loneliness hurts the most.

While I had the courage to divorce my unbearable husband at 40, my three best friends never dared, and they’re still paying the price. Women are tougher—they care for their lazy, sickly husbands. My friends could all pass for ten years younger and are full of life—they want to travel and plan outings, but their old husbands hold them back. They actually envy me for not carrying such a burden.

My answer is that, as a man, being constantly alone kills my spirit. I try to chat with neighbors, but everyone’s in a rush and doesn’t want to talk. I get up alone, shuffle to shop, go to the doctor, cook, watch TV, and go to bed alone. This isn’t how I planned it, and it’s not good.

Photos: istockphoto.com