One of these things is not like the others. One of these things just doesn't belong, goes the lyric to my favorite Sesame Street tune. Who'd have guessed that Big Bird would end up killing me softly with his song, but it's true—while I hardly qualify as the family's black sheep, in the race for odd duck I've broken away from the pack and am currently maintaining a significant lead.

Now, if you've read my column before, you know I have a boyfriend (that would be Johannes) and we have a 3-year-old daughter (the lovely and amazing Julia Claire). But I would remind you that the boyfriend lives in Europe and, as I just mentioned, the daughter wasn't born till I was in my 40s. I've looked at life from both sides now, but with Johannes off raising his son in Zurich eight months of the year, I continue to live with one foot planted firmly in the land of the single woman. And I'm here to tell you that it's hard out here for me and a whole lot of other bachelor girls in their 30s and 40s.

I'm not entirely sure why I never married. I've been accused of being too picky, too career oriented, too selfish, too difficult. If too picky means that I happen to be partial to men who chew with their mouths closed, then by all means, color me picky. As for the rest, frankly I've always found myself to be utterly delightful (or at least no more ambitious, selfish, difficult than any of my married friends). Still, in the interest of fairness, I invite those with opposing viewpoints to go ahead and vent away in their columns.