5. Has anybody out there noticed that the institution of matrimony is falling apart faster than Courtney Love on a can of Red Bull? Now, I honestly don't care if your marriage is so gothic in its dysfunction that it makes the couple from Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf? look like Will and Jada—I'm not here to judge. All I ask is that you quit judging me. Perhaps we're not suffering a fear of intimacy as much as a fear of being trapped in a crummy marriage.

6. Remember that little factoid you used to bandy about—you know, the one where 40-year-old women have a greater chance of being shot by terrorists than of making it to the altar? Then you may also recall that Susan Faludi refuted that myth 14 years ago. So, okay, Ms. Faludi is probably rethinking that (thanks a lot, Osama!), but you don't have to rub it in.

7. Enough with the "constructive" criticism already. We live in a world of stunning technological advancement, but it remains physically impossible to wear your heart on your sleeve and be emotionally distant, dress like a slut and a librarian, try much too hard and not make any real effort.

8. New rule: You may discuss everything from the fall of the Roman Empire to the rise of Rem Koolhaas with your single friend. But her uterus, ovaries, entire reproductive system are off-limits. Sending clippings about a 74-year-old Ukrainian woman who just gave birth to triplets along with a peppy little "Keep hope alive!" Post-it note will do irreparable damage to your relationship and—if the woman is particularly resourceful—may even get your tires slashed.

9. Here's a phrase that must never, ever cross your lips: "Let me tell you why a terrific gal like you is still single...." Because that terrific gal is then likely to explain in dark and visceral detail what happened to the last gentleman who uttered those very words—and, trust me, you really don't want to know.

10. I've looked at single life from both sides now, and here's what I think: Single women are not Sarah Jessica Parker in Sex and the City any more than they're Glenn Close in Fatal Attraction. For one thing, very few have Manolo Blahniks in their closets. For another, very few have sex with Michael Douglas in their kitchens. They sometimes get lonely, frustrated, they sometimes get flat-out goofy. They are human beings—tickle them and they laugh, prick them and they bleed, offer them chocolate and they eat.... In other words, they're pretty much like all the married women I know.

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