The beauty of being single is that you have a lot of time to think. After a lot of thinking, I've noticed that I don't want to 'get married' - I want to fall in love and build a life with someone who feels the same way. If we happen to have a big party and a piece of paper to go with that, then great.
There is a lot I have discovered since you took your own life. Firstly, while there is no hierarchy of death where one is better than the other, it's safe to say that living a long life is at the top while a short one is at the bottom. I don't know where suicide sits, but it's safe to say, it makes other people REALLY uncomfortable. I was advised against telling people how you died. And in the initial bizarreness of picking your burial plot and coffin (and being asked whether Robert was an eco-friendly man), I erred on the side of caution. But by this 30th day, I have realised when the worst, most devastating thing possible happens, you lose the energy to maintain any artifice.
There are other advantages to having alone time too: being able to read in bed at night for as long as I like, repeatedly watching Vikings (if I can't see my husband's beardy face and tattoos I might as well enjoy those of Rollo and Ragnar), not having to watch Arsenal, not having to wade through his clothes on the floor to get into bed, not being woken at 6.15 by his alarm every day.
I'm not talking about one night stands and I'm not talking about a major porn-style session. I'm talking about the feeling of acceptance. From one person to another. Sex is something that brings two people together in a way like no other. And to have sex after surgery for a stoma is a big thing both mentally and emotionally.
So I would say that Riotta's article attracted a large amount of attention not only because he brought the hot topic of relationships and romance into the less media-friendly (but nonetheless extremely important) topic of language-acquisition, but also because - very simply - there are a lot of bilinguals out there. And following on from Riotta's logic, a lot of good lovers.
So she comes home from school and casually drops it into our 'how's your day gone' conversation. The conversation we have every day. Except this isn't about the funny thing that happened in maths or that she sang a solo in the choir. This is about a boy, 'the boy' the one she likes and I can tell she's smitten.