This is a story that seems to allow you an excuse to not make friends. Not a criticism, but a challenge. At 67, I can make friends any time, anywhere, and you and I share some similar history. Not marriage or kids. What I don’t do is say to myself that others don’t have time for me. Friends are earned. They take risk and work. You can have the story, which is an excuse for not living, or you can have a life. I choose life. I hope you forfeit the story.

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