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I became a single mom at age 30, after my partner and I split up. My daughter, ricky, was seven months old when her father walked out the door. His whereabouts are unknown, although last I heard he was living in Ireland.

Back then, I was quite a sorry sight, traipsing around with my eyes to the ground. Woe was me, because who in his right mind would ever date a single mom? No one I thought, and just like that, I vowed never to date again. Ever.

One year passed and ricky was clearly moving forward, talking and walking, but where was I going? To work. And then to bed, with my little girl's warm torso tucked beside me. I loved her unconditionally; she satisfied all my maternal needs. But who was satisfying my need for companionship, and let's face it, for intimacy?