I'll be 36 this week. Every year for as long as I can remember, I've blown out the candles on my cake and wished for love. In 36 years, I've only experienced love, real love with one man for a span of 4 years. The aftermath is that 10 years after the crash and burn, I'm now a single mom who doesn't believe that love will ever come again. The worst fear I have is that I will have lived my entire life and I will never meet the man who would have loved me enough to want me forever. I've carried this fear for a long time. I realized it one day when I was less than 10 years old and woke up from a nightmare in which I saw myself as a lonely and broken old woman. My experiences are beginning to speak for themselves. One short-lived love, followed by many temporary arrangements. Nothing has ever panned out. I've stopped trying.