My ex-husband once told me that I would be alone for the rest of my life. That's a hard one to suck up. Especially since he said it to me when we were married.

I've always joked that I was going to end up an old maid living in Ireland. Part of me has always been okay with that. Now, however, I don't think I quite like it all that much. Yet I'm more convinced than ever that is what will come to pass.

If I have friends around me I guess it wouldn't be so bad. But in Ireland I'll really not know anyone. I do know a few people from there, but who is to say that I'll live anywhere near them. Why doesn't this idea scare me more?

Though I will admit that it doesn't make me happy either. I'm not actually depressed by the thought, just disappointed. Sometimes, disappointed is worse.