Life is never what we plan, even if it conforms to every want. People who want children don't have them, or wind up with offspring who they don't understand. Those who don't want kids may have them anyway. We never wanted any, and are dealing with the functional absence of friends while they raise theirs. Careers turn out to be less fulfilling, or unexpected ones become engaging, or job types just vanish (like buggy whip making.) Marriages become burdens, the joyfully married are widowed, those most wanting a spouse never find one. Life just doesn't come with guarantees, and wanting alone does not change anything. Especially wanting something that is someone else's choice, or out of one's power to effect.
What we can do is be content in ourselves, because that is wholly in our control. Bursts the bubble of regret, kneecaps nostalgia, wears away one's disappointment. To hold on to dreams as though we had a right to them, and were deprived by fate or malice, leaves only a poisoning of other joys. Best to take each day, every friend, all experiences, as great gifts to be savored, lessons of great worth.
Moby never asked to spend two months in a shelter, nor did he immediately think we were much of an improvement. Still, here we are, and all in all, it seems to have worked out pretty well.
You get what everyone gets. You get a lifetime.