I’m 39, single and achingly lonely – don’t tell me to ‘love myself’
There’s a movement quietly taking hold on social media. Singledom has taken on a new dimension. It’s been repackaged as an art form; an impermeable, sacred solitude to be mastered by those of us chronically unattached. Pastel images of foam-swept lattes or swirling two-tone iced coffees perspiring next to ornate journals or leather-bound literary novels abound on lonely user feeds.