In 2001, when I was 28, I broke up with my boyfriend. Allan and I had been together for three years, and there was no good reason to end things. He was (and remains) an exceptional person, intelligent, good-looking, loyal, kind. My friends, many of whom were married or in marriage-track relationships, were bewildered. I was bewildered. To account for my behavior, all I had were two intangible yet undeniable convictions: something was missing; I wasn\u2019t ready to settle down….<\/p>\n
Ten years later, I occasionally ask myself the same question. Today I am 39, with too many ex-boyfriends to count and, I am told, two grim-seeming options to face down: either stay single or settle for a \u201cgood enough\u201d\u009d mate. At this point, certainly, falling in love and getting married may be less a matter of choice than a stroke of wild great luck. A decade ago, luck didn\u2019t even cross my mind. I\u2019d been in love before, and I\u2019d be in love again. This wasn\u2019t hubris so much as na\u00c3\u00afvet\u00c3\u00a9; I\u2019d had serious, long-term boyfriends since my freshman year of high school, and simply couldn\u2019t envision my life any differently.<\/p>\n
Well, there was a lot I didn\u2019t know 10 years ago. The decision to end a stable relationship for abstract rather than concrete reasons (\u201csomething was missing\u201d\u009d), I see now, is in keeping with a post-Boomer ideology that values emotional fulfillment above all else.<\/p>\n