Dear Prudence,
I’m severely mentally ill and have been since childhood. I’ve spent much of my life in psych hospitals or rehabs for my comorbid polysubstance abuse issues. I’m in my forties now (female/hetero) and, while I never really had trouble finding romantic partners/relationships before, my vast amounts of accumulated baggage and my lack of a “normal” history (career, children, sobriety, sanity, etc.) have finally hit critical mass, and single guys (the ones left) avoid me like the plague. If fairness played a role in determining reality, I’d really be pissed. But I have no real right to be; I’d probably opt not to get into a relationship with a severely bipolar junkie with less than a year sober—I suspect most people would. Or maybe my personality devolved into a weak puddle of boredom when I hit 40. Either way, I think it’s hopeless.
—Crazy and Alone Until Death