A Summer Without Men

I got this book last summer at Borders in Maryland when it was going out of business. I read half of the first chapter and haven't picked it up since. I think now, more than ever, is the right time to journey though this story. Honestly, I'm a little scared. To acknowledge my life without men is to, in my weak mind and to my weaker heart, to subside my conquest in love. I know this is not the case, but I feel it. And rationale never settles well with feelings, like oil and water. Try as I may, they exist as two separate parts.
I fear putting myself first for once, then not being capable of returning to self-less love. I fear narrowing down my playing field by becoming the successful, driven woman I want to be. I fear not finding a man that likes alone time as much as I do. I fear dying alone, being pitied by my fulfilled siblings.
But for every fear, I know there is a rebuttal. For my first fear, my heart will never stop loving, even if I'm not with a man. I know this full well, as I love my family in that exact manner. For my second, the only men that are intimidated by a successful woman are the kind that couldn't make me happy due to their insecurity.
For my third, just as I exist loving passing quiet, meditative hours alone, I'm sure someone of a similar demeanor can share in my appreciation if he likes to read as much as he should. And for my last fear, I realize that my siblings will be stunted economically and educationally because they married young. I have surpassed them already in my accomplishments. If my ultimate priorities lie in furthering myself and having plenty to share with others, I will be fulfilled.
I know I have little to worry about realistically, but that does not ease my mind. For I need worries to occupy my mind here so I don't lose it in this formidably miserable place. I need this: to find sanctuary; to come to terms with my losses; and to move forward. Here's to a summer without men!