a woman messaged me recently about something i suspect a lot of us feel, but don’t always know how to say.
she’d built a wonderful life. travelled. done things on her own. had experiences she was grateful for.
but she wanted a relationship. she always had.
and as the people around her got married and had babies, that wanting had become tangled up with embarrassment. a feeling that she was behind. that perhaps it said something about her that it hadn’t happened.
the first thing i wanted to tell her was this:
it’s not your shame to carry.
you haven’t done something shameful by being single. you haven’t let anyone down by reaching a certain age without a long relationship. you don’t owe anyone an explanation for why your life has unfolded the way it has.
and you’re allowed to want someone.
you’re allowed to yearn for it, actually. to want someone to come home to. someone to make plans with. someone who knows what’s going on in your life without needing the forty minute background briefing.
someone to share the lovely things with, and someone who will occasionally deal with the bins.
we’re human. wanting to be loved and known is hardly an embarrassing admission.
i’m 42, i’ve travelled to 81 countries, and i would still like someone to ask how my day was and be interested in the answer.
i can book my own flights. i can take myself to dinner. i can manage a lot on my own.
i would also quite like a cuddle.
there’s room for all of that.
over the weekend, a dear friend asked me what my ideal man would be like.
i said someone kind. with kind eyes. someone who likes communicating, who is driven, and who i can trust when he says, “i’ve got it.”
and when we drilled down into it, that last part mattered more than i initially realised.
i know how capable i am. i know i can get shit done. i make the decisions, work things out and find a way through. i’ve had plenty of practice.
but i would love nothing more than to have someone take the weight of the world for ten minutes.
to hear “i’ve got it” and know i can leave it with him. without having to remind him, check on it or quietly make a backup plan.
just ten minutes where i can let my shoulders drop because someone i trust is taking care of something that matters to me.
that’s a big part of what i want when i say i want a relationship. the kindness. the communication. the feeling that someone is paying attention and will follow through.
i can be proud of how well i look after myself and still want to feel looked after.
where i think we have to be careful is what we start giving up while we wait.
because waiting can be surprisingly quiet.
it can sound quite reasonable.
i’ll go there when i have someone to go with.
i’ll move when i know where we might end up.
i’ll try that restaurant when i have a date.
i’ll make a bit more effort when there’s someone to make an effort for.
and gradually, without ever deciding to, you start organising your life around someone you haven’t met.
your preferences get postponed. your plans stay hypothetical. the version of you who does the things she wants to do is always somewhere in the future, holding someone’s hand.
i understand the temptation. there are experiences i would love to share with a partner.
but i don’t want to keep missing out on things i could be enjoying now.
you can want someone beside you and still decide where you’re going.
so how do you actually do that when you’re feeling lonely, ashamed or left behind?
i think you start by separating the sadness from what you’re making it mean.
“i’m sad i haven’t found the relationship i want” is understandable.
“i’m single because there must be something wrong with me” is a much heavier thing to carry, and being single doesn’t prove it.
when that thought turns up, try to catch it before it becomes the whole story.
what happened? a friend got engaged. you went home alone after a lovely weekend. someone you liked didn’t follow through.
what are you feeling? disappointed. lonely. tired of trying.
stay with what you actually know. you don’t need to turn a painful evening into a prediction about the rest of your life.
then give yourself permission to want what you want without having to apologise for it.
sometimes we’re so determined to appear happy and independent that we can barely admit we’d like a relationship.
we soften it. make a joke. quickly explain that we’re fine on our own.
you can just say it.
“i would love to meet someone.”
you don’t have to follow it with a presentation on how well you’re coping.
you also don’t have to force gratitude over the top of every difficult feeling.
you can appreciate the life you have and feel sad about something you hoped would be part of it by now. having wonderful friends doesn’t mean you can never feel lonely. having travelled doesn’t cancel out wanting a home life with someone.
let yourself have the feeling without putting yourself on trial for it.
and then, when you have a bit of space, ask yourself:
what am i putting off because i thought i’d be doing it with someone?
be specific.
is there a trip you keep saving? a move you keep talking about? a sunday you keep leaving empty because everyone else has family plans?
which parts can you do something about now?
you don’t have to start with six months overseas and a dramatic haircut. book the lunch. ask a friend to come away. go and look at the place you think you might like to live.
give yourself something real to look forward to.
and pay attention to the smaller ways you might be waiting too.
are you keeping whole weekends available for someone who might ask to see you? are you saying you’re easygoing when you actually have a preference? are you acting less interested, less opinionated or less yourself because you’re worried about getting it wrong?
i want a relationship in which i can be myself. it makes sense to practise being her now.
that means saying what i’d like. making plans that suit me. being warm when i feel warm. having boundaries when something doesn’t feel good.
i don’t want to spend my life rehearsing how to be chosen.
i want to enjoy being in it.
of course, there will still be days when it hurts.
you can have a full calendar, lovely friends and a trip booked, and still wish there was someone next to you on the couch. there isn’t always an activity that fixes that.
on those days, tell someone you trust.
“i’m feeling a bit lonely. can we catch up?”
you don’t need to make it funny or reassuring for them. let the people who love you know when you could use some company.
and if you want to keep dating, keep dating. make room for the thing you want. ask for introductions. be open when you meet someone interesting. take a break when you need one.
you don’t need to stop wanting love to get on with your life.
that’s what i wanted this woman to know.
she doesn’t have to become so independent that she never longs for anyone. she doesn’t have to convince herself that a relationship wouldn’t matter to her.
she can want it deeply.
and she can still have preferences, make decisions, go places and become the person she wants to be while that part remains uncertain.
i hope i meet someone i can share this life with. i hope you do too, if that’s what you want.
in the meantime, there are places i want to go. things i want to learn. people i want to spend time with. a way i want to live and show up in the world.
i’m allowed to keep wanting someone.
i’m going anyway.