For example, when I was in my 20s, everything was about dating, romance, and love. During school, I had crushes on anything that moved, and being Italian, I fell in love many times.

On the same day.

Just kidding.

But I did have a low flashpoint in those days, and the most important words of my 20s were, "I love you."

So you know where this is going.

The words "I love you" lead to marriage, or at least it did then, and I had two of those in the next decade or so. And my most important words morphed from "I love you" to "I'm sorry."

I'm sure it's a coincidence.

In my 30s, I apologized for everything. I was like an apology machine. The apologies started with little things like "I'm sorry I'm late," then increased to "I'm sorry I said what I said," and ended up with "I'm sorry I think what I think," "I'm sorry I am who I am," and ultimately, "I'm sorry I married you."

Really, really sorry.

Luckily, there were backsies.

This lead to the most important words of my 40s, which were, "Thank you." As in, "Thank you, God, for divorce."

Among so many other things.

I was thankful that I had gotten back on my feet and acquired a grace I should have had earlier. I was thankful for everything in my life. Thankful that daughter Francesca was growing up so beautifully, despite the many curveballs I'd thrown her. Thankful for my parents, then both still alive. Thankful that I had my health, when so many did not. Thankful for my house, even with its mortgage. Thankful for my dogs, though they never listened. Thankful I had a second career, which I loved.

So what words are the most important for my 50s?

I'm 54 now, and it has taken me a few years to figure it out, but I know it now. What's the word that has taken me this long to figure out, and once I figured it out, even longer to say out loud?

What is as important as "I love you," "I'm sorry," and "Thank you," now and forever?

"Ask."

I never used to ask for anything. Help. An answer. A favor. A new job. A concession. A request.

Whatever it is, if I wanted it, I would never ask for it. I would just hope it came to me, magically. Or I might just suffer in silence, in the manner of the early Christian martyrs.

Heaven, help us.

Now I ask, and I get plenty of no's. But I've also gotten a yes or two, which feels like I won the lottery. There are a lot of little examples, but here's one: Last weekend, I was at the National Book Festival, and I was scheduled to speak at breakfast. As book gigs go, this is a big one, but it was early in the morning. I had to be dressed and ready by 7, and I was worried.

About my speech?

No.

About my hair.

I was going to speak in front of hundreds of people, so I wanted good hair. I called a few salons to see if I could get an appointment to get a blow-dry that morning, but the managers said they weren't open until 7, which was too late for me. So I asked:

"Sir, would you please come to my hotel room, for money?"

Well, not exactly, but you get the idea.

In my 40s, I never would have asked. I would have gotten my hair blow-dried the day before the speech and slept all night in a chair, sitting up. In fact, I did do that once.

Please tell me I'm not alone.

But now, I ask.

The most they can do is say no, and they didn't. At 6:15 in the morning, a handsome young man arrived at my hotel room and blow-dried my hair. Honest to God, it was all I wanted from him, and that's what being 50 is all about.

Of course, I haven't forgotten, "Thank you."

And "I love you" will always matter.

But I'm not really sorry, at all.