When I am 89 I will be looking back on my life..

In my 20ties I was in love, faithful and together with my husband. All nice and proper and clean and square. And I loved it too, the cars, the yachts, the flats, his energy, I loved it. But it became too claustrophobic.

In my 30ties I was single and commitment phobic and free as a bird, happier than ever. Dating crazy men but always thinking it was wrong. Thinking I ought to find the good man. But they all bored me to death. I guess I didn't really want to find one after all.

In my 40ties I finally remarried to a good man (that I really and truly loved) and became a happy mother to twins, lived in Narrff London in a big house and had two dogs. And I published my first book. And I made the world record in number dinner parties per month. And became a fantastic cook.

In my 50ties the kids started moving out and soon after… husband number 2 too. No griefing over this though. Single and happy and relaxed again. Free as a bird. Realized mature dating is equally fun.

In my 60ties I met THE MAN OF MY LIFE at a concert with Killers, realizing we share the same interest for cooking, writing, dancing and drinking shitloads of good red wine. We moved to Colombia and took care of our children and grand-children and the planet. And thankfully we have enabled us to stay forever young so we will live until we’re at least 120. And he still looks a bit like Leonardo di Caprio mixed with Kenau Reeves (in my own private Idaho, not in Matrix).

3 sure is a magic number.