Dating : Modern Day Romance: You Can Be Single And Happy

‘So are you just happy being alone?’

It was a question posed to me while having coffee with a friend a few months back. They weren’t being rude — just genuinely puzzled that I when I said I wasn’t dating or wasn’t interested in dating, I also wasn’t joking. While people may be used to me cracking gags about being single in the context of our friendships and in the context of my online work (read: recaps), this was something I wasn’t trying to bury under a joke or make light of.

It was simply matter of fact: I have no interest in dating or finding myself in a relationship.

You tell that to someone at 20, and there’s no judgement because you’re young and you need to experience the world and there’s so much life to live, and so many fish in the sea! At 20 you’re ready to fly to Europe and hook up with the hot bartender in Rome, before moving onto Greece and flirting with the waiter. At 20 you’re expected to date on and off, have your heart broken, have an unrequited crush and maybe break someone else’s heart.

You tell that to someone as you approach 30, and it’s a worried look, a furrowed brow, a question “are you ok?” or more simply, “but why?” You’ve travelled, you’ve had those early flings, you’ve dated and yet, people are baffled that you’re still not ready to settle down and take things seriously.

It’s easy to get, or at least feel, like you’re backed into a corner of justifying to others why you don’t want to date, while toeing the line of trying not to sound too defensive or too flippant. You listen to yourself start to explain your own decision and start to doubt your own thoughts and whether you are just hiding behind a defence mechanism. Are your standards too high? Should you settle? Is there something wrong with you? Or is it really, actually OK to not have an interest in dating?

Single people are not a problem to be solved

While it’s not always the case, the shock that comes after the “I don’t want to date” declaration is mostly from friends who are in long-term relationships. Whether it’s their chance to live vicariously through me, a single person (just your regular circus freak), or whether they just genuinely want to make sure I’m happy, there’s often something in letting people know that you’re quite fine being alone that makes them not believe you.

There’s an underlying societal pressure as you get older that if you’re not actively out there trying to find “the one”, or striving towards becoming happily coupled-up, that you’re not exactly whole, or you’re not reaching your full potential. Ultimately you’re missing out.

Relationships, and monogamous relationships at that, have been instilled in us at an early age that it’s not only the expectation, it’s also the norm. It’s the goal. You can have a good job, and a good circle of friends, and a hobby, and a close-knit family. But if you’re not in a relationship, it’s a factor of your life where it’s OK for everyone to ask why or follow it up like it’s a problem to be solved. “I have a friend I could set you up with,” or “Have you tried Hinge? It’s better than Tinder!” All of a sudden your singularity is something to be fixed or at least trialled and tested.

Then if you, shock horror, don’t meet the next love of your life after a date or a hookup, then maybe there’s something a little off about you. Maybe it’s your resting bitch face, or your dedication to work, or maybe you cross your arms too much when you walk. Maybe if you just changed little aspects of yourself, along the way you might realise you do want to date, deep down.

Or maybe not.

So how do you actually fit into society when you’re more than OK flying solo?

Not wanting to date isn’t a new thing for me. I didn’t date in high school so I never experienced the highs and lows of a dramatic teen romance. My first kiss wasn’t anything special. My first serious, proper crush turned into a friends with benefits situation and never had any inklings of a “we need to chat” moment or a turn to make it more serious. That’s all I knew, even going into uni. Heady crushes, small flings, things that could last on-and-off for months… but never “dating” in the traditional sense or anything with serious connotations.

I caved to an unknown pressure in uni of feeling like maybe I wasn’t all emotionally there or normal when it came to dating, and decided to get serious with a guy. I approached it like it was an essay or exam question that needed to be answered: “He likes me, he treats me well, so therefore I have no real reason not to be his girlfriend.” As it turns out, even when you can have the boxes ticked, it still doesn’t mean you’re going to automatically be ready to date. After realising how much I hurt him, I vowed to never get myself in that situation again.

Then, after uni, I did end up in a long-term relationship, and the first year or two was unlike anything I had experienced before. It was natural. I liked being in a relationship. It was effortless. It wasn’t a box-ticking requirement. It was what I wanted at the time.

It ended and it ended badly. And for a long time afterwards, it was a convenient reason for people to assume that’s why I wasn’t dating. “Well after what happened with [redacted], I get it,” I remember someone saying over drinks. “But give it some time and you’ll be ready to go!”

After nearly two years of being single, it’s not that I’m not emotionally ready or still grieving that relationship breakdown. I’m just simply disinterested in dating. I don’t feel the need to have to date, I don’t crave an unknown companionship and I don’t lay awake at night wondering if I’ll ever fall in love. At the risk of getting all Ariana Grande on you, I learned to tick my own boxes and I don’t see an empty space in my life that needs to be filled with dating or a relationship. In hindsight, I spent a lot more time feeling lonelier in a relationship than I have since being on my own again.

It’s not so much ruling out that it will never happen — I think for the most part there’s still a bit of a romantic even in the most cynical of us. It’s more so letting go of the pressure and expectations that come from being a woman in your late twenties and realising it’s OK to have no interest in dating or a serious commitment. It’s OK to not want the fairytale. It’s OK to not be ticking the boxes your idealistic 12-year-old self set for yourself of being “settled down” by 30.

It’s not about “fitting” in or caving to a norm — it’s about being able to listen to yourself and learning to be fine with your own timeline.

But for those who ask if I’m “really just happy being alone?” the answer is yes. Yes, I really, really am.