Fourteen years ago, when I interviewed a psychotherapist who had worked with many single women, she said that the years leading up to the age of 30 were often the most difficult for them. Even the women who were happily single had exasperating experiences that, even today, will still sound familiar:

“Some women feel that no one believes them if they say they enjoy being single. ‘You’re just being defensive!’ It is difficult to feel supported and affirmed in being a single woman at 30.”

The age of 30 still looms large for some single people who want to marry, and perhaps especially for single women who want to have kids but not without a spouse. And yet, I do see signs that the goalposts are moving, and it is the age of 40 that now seems especially meaningful.

For example, in several contemporary memoirs, women who started out fully expecting to marry and thought that staying single would be shameful came to realise that single life suited them. For example, one of them said, “It has taken me a very, very long time to realise that I’m probably single because I really like being on my own.” 

Such revelations were coming as they approached the age of 40 or even 50. I’ve never wanted to be married, but when I first started taking notes on single people, a first step toward studying single life and not just living it, I was 39.

Even more impressive than the revelation memoirs are the memoirs of single people who own their single lives from the outset. My favourite is Keturah Kendrick’s No Thanks: Black, Female, and Living in the Martyr-Free Zone. 

The appeal of single life did not come as a revelation to Kendrick at age 30 or 40 or 50—she knew it all along, and, to her everlasting credit, she did not pretend to be interested in marrying or wanting children in order to seem more like the person other people expected and wanted her to be. Living with this knowledge became easier as she grew older:

“The great gift of ageing is the ability to release yourself from responsibility for others’ reaction to you. The relinquishing of such burden comes with an additional prize: finding people’s disapproval or shock about who you are ridiculous.”