Each month, I take a reader back for an in-depth look at what’s troubling them…
W hy can’t I seem to meet a good man to marry? Catherine, 28, Portishead
My name is Rosalie and it’s 1830 in Kansas. I’m a nymph du prairie – a fallen angel. Some call me a lady of the night, others use nastier names.
Growing up, I lived with Momma and Poppa on a dirt ranch with a little shack, but we had a picket fence and flowers. We lived the American dream.
Girls like me
It’s a hot, dusty day. I’m dreaming of a good man, children, a home, no-one on my back, or any other part of me. Sorry, but a girl has to keep a sense of humour! I always thought that’s the way it’d be, but Poppa died when I was 18, Momma lost the house. So I kept Mum the only way I could – in the saloon, pleasing cowboys. I prayed one would take me away from it all, but it never happened. No-one wants to marry girls like me!
I’m all alone
Momma died and I’m getting older, so soon no-one will want me. I cry for those kids I never had. I could have made them and a man happy if I’d had a chance. When I die, I’m alone – I knew it’d end this way.
When I read ‘meet a good man to marry’, as opposed to a man to love, I had a feeling there was a past life reason behind Catherine’s apparent lack of suitors. She tries too hard, and each man she meets is a possible path to the dream she still has.
Catherine says: I don’t like it, but Jenny’s right. I felt Rosalie’s desperation, and see it in me today. I’ll try and take a step back and have some fun. I’ve learnt from Rosalie that marriage isn’t the be all and end all, what I need is love.