The TV Land comedy reminded this writer that getting older doesn’t mean that she can’t still have ufabet.

The year the pandemic hit, I was supposed to put an end to what I call my Long Chicago Decade.

I spent most of my years in the city putting out one personal fire after another. The marriage that had led me there quickly unraveled. I put my dreams of being a carefree novelist on hold while I took the first soul-sucking corporate job I could find. The drawn-out, bureaucratic divorce process was followed by an even longer and more intrusive U.S. citizenship process.

As I picked up the pieces of my bruised ego, I built a good life in Chicago. I became a writer, first sharing my work in bars, which led to my first bylines in local publications and eventually to a full-time career. 

My two-bedroom apartment felt like my own personal private kingdom. I gained true friends who got me through whatever mess I had created for myself until then.

Still, I had not given myself the chance to really start over. As my ninth anniversary in the Windy City loomed, I finally had the kind of stable footing I needed to truly break free.

But doubts inevitably crept in: Who will swipe right on me at 40? Forget dating, who even wants to make a new friend at 40? Pre-pandemic, I had already struggled with the jam-packed schedules of married friends, child-rearing friends, overworked friends. Dating-app matches dwindled with every birthday.

I turned to TV to escape. Burned out by the screaming matches of Bravo’s The Real Housewives of Whatever County, I gave TV Land’s Younger a try.

One marriage under my belt was enough to convince me I don’t ever want to do it again,