Embracing Singularity

Hello!

I’ve been single for 3 years!

And maybe time has forced me to adjust to the situation accordingly, but I’m pretty sure it’s been a long time coming. Either way, I have to write this out. Please, humor me.

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The first 2 years, in between dating, I went in and out of a miserable ‘forever alone’ slump of a mindset. Was there something wrong with me? Why won’t anyone love me? Am I ugly am I fat am I boring am I annoying? Am I going to die alone? Should I start hoarding cats? You get the drift.

The guys I liked wouldn’t like me enough to continue what we started. The guys who liked me, well… I didn’t like them the same so obviously, I’d walk away.

The past year, I haven’t gone out with anyone. Maybe one to two dates, nothing notable, but I didn’t care. I don’t know what happened, but I stopped being miserable.

Those slumps no longer find me.

This calm is a little scary and a little out-of-the-ordinary but over a few conversations with different sets of friends I realized something I guess I’ve known since I was a little nerdy child with parents who should have just separated:

Societal pressure was the only thing ever pushing me to find a boyfriend. Who else — other than everyone else following the predictable flow of this life game — says contentment has to come hand in hand with getting married and having babies?

I’ve been single for 3 years straight now. I’ve met people. I’ve flirted. I’ve dated. I’ve tried things. I’ve hooked up.

There were a bunch of nice guys, some assholes, and the unfortunate forgettable ones.

But this past year was one I mostly spent with friends, if not just alone.

I’ve learned more about myself than I ever have. I’ve always enjoyed alone time and that hasn’t changed. I thrive on it. I’ve met so many awesome people, have found friends who just get me better than I get myself, and I’ve learned to stick with those who always have.

I’ve gotten to explore the world, in a manner of speaking. And without some ‘other half’.

I’m not quite content just yet — I am, after all, only 27 and still figuring my life out. But I am quite happy with the way things are and the last thing I need is another something to have to spend time on and deal with.

Now, I’m not saying I’ll never settle down. I will. But that, I have decided, doesnot equate to getting married. I can grow up, I can “settle down” alone. And I think I’d much prefer that. It may be a little selfish but it’s also so much simpler.

If somehow, magically, I meet a person who can get me, understand me and deal with all my complexities (and I the same with him), then sure, I wouldn’t run away from that.

But I think I’m okay with living alone the rest of my life. I’ll have my friends and family. They’ll get married. They’ll have kids. (I’ll be nice to their kids, I swear.)

And I… Well, I’ll have my German Shepherd, my cigarettes and my words. And all that should be enough.