I'm alone. I hate it. Just the other day, my girlfriends and I were thinking about the disappointment of being single, and facing summer vacations solo. It's August, and the kids are off to Fire Island for three weeks with their dad.

While I love the idea of having time to myself, I just can't get used to the house without the kids, especially since alone time often translates to lonely time.

My last relationship developed when one of my brothers reconnected me with my high school boyfriend. It seemed then as if maybe I was going to get the happy ending for my fairytale expectations.

He was my first love. I'd carried a torch for him for 30 years.

When we first got back together it was hotter than summer in the city. We drove hundreds of miles up and down the Taconic State Parkway in New York to carry out our steamy, long-distance love affair.

Everything was amazing — except for one small detail: He couldn't emotionally disconnect from his ex. It went on for four years, but things like distance, children, jobs, and his obsession with his ex got the better of us.

With the failure of this relationship, on the heels of a devastating end to my 18-year marriage, my heart snapped.

I decided to do an informal survey of my friends. One girl was dating a dysfunctional guy with a jail record and a shoe fetish. Another friend had a physical therapist for a boyfriend who'd practiced a little too much on women other than her — naked.

These were "normal" successful women. What were they thinking? What was I thinking?

I asked myself which couples I knew among friends, family, co-workers, neighbors — even celebrities — were really happy.

I came up with...a grand total of...zilch. I couldn't think of one.

So maybe it wasn't about finding the perfect guy to share a home with and marry. I want a mature kind of love, one where we keep our own addresses.

No more tolerance for a partner who's still immersed in his last relationship and has fantasies that end with me in a kitchen with an apron and a dishpan.

I've already done that, and besides, now that August is here, I'm not going to be making any peanut-butter-and-jelly sandwiches for a while.

Here's my latest thinking: It's time to stop dreaming about Mr. Right and get focused on Myself!

I've had an idea. Instead of spending the summer looking for the next relationship, I'm going to get to know myself. In fact, I'm going to date myself exclusively for the month of August.

If it goes well, I just might think about going steady.