Steve:

Try dating at 72. And really not liking old people. I cannot even image my life at 82 or older.

My ex was 14 years younger and as amazing as she may have been (stylish, talented, creative, trilingual, intelligent, self-employed, etc.) and as much as we shared so many common interests (jazz, live music, food & wine, travel, photography, etc.), there was nothing that could fix the childhood wounds we both suffered as unwanted, unplanned, only children.

Her insecurity and self loathing grew into narcissism, while mine became codependency. Ross Rosenberg, author of the book "The Human Magnet Syndrome" calls it "Self Love Deficit Disorder".

She found someone new. I only know from one photo posted online. I know nothing about her or her life since she broke up with me in 2010 by e-mail.

I have reconstructed the relationship enough to know the part I played in pushing her away, when I really wanted her closer. Narcissists are not capable of real love and empathy. Forgiving her was easy, she never chose to be a narcissist. It was simply a reaction to bad parenting. Forgiving myself was harder and is a work in progress. Acceptance brings peace.

Knowing what I know now, back then, when I was younger and had a future to look forward to, I think I might have made better choices. No sense crying over spilled milk or broken crystal.

Therapy was a huge help. I am no longer afraid to be alone or worried about abandonment. Alone does not equal lonely. Alone isn't a choice, but lonely is. Good friends, travel and activities will never take the place of a partner to share it all with. But I'm glad I have those things in my life.

I'd love to find a loving relationship of equals, but after ten years single, it is probably not something I can materialize. It is in the hands of fate. I've stopped looking for love, so it will have to find me instead.

Until the plague, I was traveling alone in Europe extensively. Now I'm stuck in my room in South America. The last year of isolation has aged me more than I thought. I see it in the mirror, which I try to avoid looking into as much as possible. But I end up in other people's photos that are sent to me, so I cannot avoid the reality.

What I find interesting is that somewhere out there is likely my perfect match, but she's also given up looking too. And so we never meet.

Good luck Steve. Happiness is an inside job. Choose to be happy when you can. And cry when you can't, and it hurts too much.