Truth found in Fiction

So, I'm reading an article on Biala, aka Janice Tworkovsky, Jewish, Polish a painter, at like 6 a.m. this morning and a quote from one of her husband's, Ford Madox Ford, books made me think that perhaps there is hope for me.
In "Parade's End" one of his character says, "You seduced a woman in order to be able to finish your talks with her. You could not do that without living with her. You could not live with her without seducing her; but that was the by-product. The point is that you can't otherwise talk. You can't finish talks at street corners; in museums; even in drawing-rooms. You may not be in the mood when she is in the mood - for the intimate conversation that means the final communion of your souls."
(So that's why men seduce women? Ummm?)
Ford was twice her age but they married and lived in Paris. She said she became herself when she met Ford. (she was 26 and he was 57 in 1930)
"In living for him - I became myself," she wrote. "He found a little handful of dust and turned it into a human being ..."
However, her most clever response was to her friends, who were dismayed that she would fall for such an aged womanizer as Ford.
"I have looked all my life for a man with a mind as old as my own," she blasted back. "And what difference does it make if, when I find the man, he has a potbelly!"
However, the "long passionate dialogue," came to an end after 9 years in 1939 when Ford died in her arms at a Deauville hospital at the age of 66.
Ah, I really am pathetic but it gives me hope. The story re-enforced what I had already been reminded of recently: that conversation - the act of talking, of connecting through speech - is very important to me in relationships. It helps me connect, it makes me feel safe and secure, more importantly wanted. So, I guess Ford had a point.
It is a point I will have to hold onto in the coming days, months, years as I dream of even a month, day, moment of that "dialogue."
I guess I'm a little more melancholy than usual. My birthday was this week and I, like so many women before me, am not were I thought I would be by this age. Don't get me wrong I am the woman who ran into 30 with my arms wide open ready for anything. But with the passing of each sequential year my fear as increased until Sunday I found myself sitting across from my friend Anne in Chicago, tears cascading off my trembling chin saying, "I don't want to be alone for the rest of my life."
Rationally, I know I need to give up my 1960s idea that marriage, a family, a home will fulfill me as a woman, will equal success. But it's hard.
I guess that is my goal for this year - give up my illusion of what success means and be happy with the concert success that I do have.
Love always, Olivia