I can’t say for sure, but I believe it’s been about four years since my last relationship. And because I tend to give my relationships every chance to survive, even if it means a less than stable mental well-being, that relationship lasted just as long as I’ve been single. The cruel but genuine reality is that the relationship lasted years beyond what it should have been. However, at the start of that relationship, I was just entering my thirties and suddenly intensely aware of my biological clock. So, despite the lies, broken promises, and lack of effort, I pushed through hoping that things would get better. But as the time went by and I got older; I decided to discard the rose-colored glasses and was finally able to see nothing was going to change. Soon after I decided I needed time alone, uncoupled. And even though I was depleted emotionally I was also eager to feel free from the anxiety caused by being tied to someone of whom I hadn’t been sure of ever loving me.
Like most women discover in their thirties, men at that same age are pretty sturdy in their steadfastness, just as much as women are certain of what we will no longer tolerate. This intersection of differences usually creates an impasse, which leads to parting ways and never looking back. Some survive but to make it, there must be change, and any change at that age usually comes from life experiences and lots of therapy. I had experienced both which led to more than just change but growth. And at the end of that relationship, I started to become aware of the amount of decision making that is pressed upon us as we get older. Perhaps more importantly, of how the circumstances of being older sometimes force us into decisions in any other circumstances we wouldn’t make. Other than my ticking clock, I had nothing keeping me in this relationship and coming to that realization came at the cost of letting go of goals I set for myself, goals made from expectations, constraint and nothing more.
These expectations which have evolved from being told to women are now pressed upon us with questions cleverly disguised as interest about our life. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve been asked about rather or not I want kids since I hit my late thirties. I’ve been asked by strangers, health professionals, and family, but what is more terrifying than being asked is that at a certain point the question will become an assumption, because if you are approaching your forties and don’t have children, you must not have wanted them. Contrary to that assumption is the fact that just wanting to have kids doesn’t guarantee you being able to have them. I had a plan that if I was single after hitting thirty-five, I would freeze my eggs and get a donor. It wasn’t until recently that I realized that even if I freeze my eggs and get a donor, my desire to have a family is not equal to wanting to raise children on my own. And with that epiphany the ticking of the clock was finally silent, because knowing that caused me to make peace with the fact that may mean not having children.
It was the first time in my adult life that I was okay with that because I was so close to experiencing a loveless relationship at the sake of a mere opportunity of having a family of my own. But my happiness was at stake, and I saw what that did to my mother. Watching her showed me how much children can fill up one’s life, but also how it can cause you to neglect yourself. I gave love like my mother did, with my whole heart and sometimes at the risk of caring for myself. If someone requires my full attention at the expense of me having nothing left to give towards myself, I struggle with walking away or delegating. And if there was a time I decided to walk away I was always left with a less confident version of myself.
However, these past four years being single and not entertaining any romances but instead just spending time with friends and family, has made me remember who I am, what I want and what I like. This is not to say the first few years weren’t hard or full of feeling sorry for myself because of the time wasted on something that never came to fruition. To be even more honest, I’m not sure if the man I was with even wanted a family with me either. I thought the longer I stayed with someone that it would eventually lead to starting a family, but who is to say that that is even the natural progression of loving relationships.
Everyone has their reasons for not wanting children or not being ready. There were definite signs that my last relationship was not heading towards that progression. However, I fooled myself into believing year after year that his and my life could somehow blend into one life together, despite him never expressing or showing he wanted the same thing. Looking back at how foolish that was, I doubted my abilities to even be able to discern if someone was genuinely interested in me or just wanted to know me physically. The fear of being trapped in another pointless, directionless relationship prevented me from even trying. I couldn’t find anyone attractive anymore and I was beginning to become afraid of being so scorned that I was too cynical and bitter to ever be in another relationship. This concerned me because even though that last relationship exhausted every bit of my spirit, I still loved love.
So, when I started to miss it, I began to live vicariously through romance novels. As soon as I read the first pages of any of those books, I believed immediately in what the story was selling, proving that my cynicism only really applied to men in the real world. However, even with being cynical towards real life, those novels allowed my heart to remain open to some possibility of finding love, even if it was only a fantasy. And for a good amount of time, I was wrapped in nothing but the text of great love, but at some point, romance novels became too predictable, so I started to write my own. This led me back to a love I had been ignoring, my love for writing, which has evolved into something of its own entirely.
This may be cliché to say, but each year of being single and content opened a part of myself that I kept dormant, I felt more confident in what type of life I wanted. The moment I was free to make decisions and pursue what I wanted without having to consider anyone else, my thinking became unburdened and less inhibited, which really fueled my writing. I began to dedicate all my free time to writing and starting projects that showcased the creativity that I was dying to set free.
It’s been a couple of years with this newfound groove and dedicating time and effort to write full-time. And although I have writing, I also know now what I want in my next relationship. The problem is I don’t go out nearly enough to even pursue finding a new one. Apps are no longer an option due to me being older and having nothing but negative experiences. In addition, I know a genuine connection will never feel real to me if an algorithm is behind it all. So even with being more open to the idea of getting to know someone with the hope of it developing into something more, I find myself unmotivated to go out and try.
That has ultimately led me to the most hazardous state of mind, reminiscing. This is what people don’t warn you about when you intentionally remain single. Once your heart has mended itself a reserve develops of all the love you have been withholding. The combination of the love reserve and being afraid to go back into the dating world has you then revisit past relationships where time has allowed the glossing of certain details that led to them ending. Now don’t get me wrong, there are some relationships where there is no amount of time that can disguise the events that led to an epic breakup. However, there are some relationships where the timing wasn’t right or maybe everyone outgrew each other and became too different to coexist. Like I mentioned before, I have a tendency to romanticize, a useful characteristic for most writers, but this is what worries me the most about putting myself back out there.
Feelings tend to stay with me, the emotions I felt during certain points of my life can be easily brought back to the surface for me, if I contemplate about them long enough. Especially when I remember the beginning moments of falling for someone and the excitement of starting something new, which leads me to sometimes think fondly about some of my past relationships. Mostly I hang onto the trading of smiles and exchanges of affection. The image of every first smile that was given to me by a former crush or love has remained with me even if it led to tears and heartbreak. But even as this time alone has made me softened towards past break-ups, because I’m aware of this tendency, I want it to also be known that I do check those feelings by forcing myself to remember the things I didn’t like. I don’t do this to harbor any disdain towards these past loves or even most recent ones, but instead so that I can remember what I will no longer settle for. I may not want to go out and try to meet new people, but I know that trying to revisit anyone from my past is enabling old habits. I’m sure some of these men are capable of change and have grown just as I have, but starting a relationship out of fear of being vulnerable with someone else is not promising even if the person has changed.
I ended my last relationship because it fell into convenience even though being in it was anything less than convenient. This may come to some as no revelation, but for me this time has made me realize that something that takes little to no effort doesn’t mean it’s meant to be. If the relationship is in trouble, there must be equal effort from both parties involved, not just one person can carry the responsibility of saving it. The more I think about my past romances, the more I try to use those memories of love, excitement, and eagerness as motivation to go out and meet someone. Those reflections serve a greater purpose than to feed my delusion on rekindling any spark, they now feed my optimism for finding my next and hopefully forever love with someone new.
So even though I started this single era as someone who was unsure of themself, I hope to one day end it with the confidence I built today. I refuse to settle for anyone who has me question my worth and doesn’t pour into me as much as I pour into them. I know for that to happen I must go out and try to meet the right person for me, but I’m no longer wanting to rush that process. And that could mean that I remain single for even more years. However, my affinity towards being in love makes me believe it will only be a matter of time. If these four years taught me anything it is that we all should strive to be hopeful, no longer hopeless, romantics. And whether I’m in a relationship or not, I will always have love in my life, most especially for myself.
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