You may want to play this while reading…
I’m the perpetually single friend. I dish out dating advice without much experience and have tons of platonic guy friends. I’m not concerned about my biological clock ticking and my longest relationship was when I was twelve. I’m not jaded and I’m completely happy being alone. My self-worth isn’t dependent on who I’m dating and I don’t have trust issues or some deep body complex.
The only “perpetually single” stereotype that I can own is that I’m picky. I’m not picky in the traditional sense… I don’t need someone who is brilliant, beautiful or rich. In fact, my ‘type’ is a normal guy. All my friends know it – invites out will be accompanied by “and I have this group of completely average guys coming too, you’ll love them!” My perfect guy is probably named Jim or Chris or something… he went to an okay school, isn’t above ordering specials at the bar and doesn’t judge me for wanting to change into my oversized PJs the second I get home from work (they have sheep in outerwear on them).
So how am I picky? I’m not willing to waste my time on someone I don’t care about. I have the opposite problem of everyone else – I grew up in a very stable and loving household. My parents rarely fought, but at the same time, they were rarely over affectionate. They were best friends and didn’t need to impress each other. I’m sure that there were bumps, hurdles and many fights but at the end of the day, they were just two people who were not only very much in love, but also liked each other a lot too.
I ‘dated’ quite a few guys and it always ended the same way. The second I found myself changing anything about myself for someone, I gave up. I hate to lie and shouldn’t feel the need to lie about my past or change for someone. It’s too hard to keep up with… and it’s not me.
It took me a long time to find myself. For a really long time, I wasn’t ready to focus on anyone but myself because I was so determined to get better, to be happy. Maybe that meant missing out on the fun times and heartbreaks that come with young relationships but honestly… knowing exactly who I am and being happy with myself was worth it.
I always laugh when friends try to give me a pep talk about being single… like I need it. You’re so sweet, nice, pretty, funny, smart, [insert other compliment here] – you’ll find someone! I want to scream at them sometimes but I stop myself because they mean well and I need to stop being a dick. But I hate this concept that someone is inferior without someone by their side. I could be dating someone but call me crazy… I choose to wait for someone I actually like.
Being happy alone means that I’m able to take things slow and trust that I’ll meet the right person. Someone who doesn’t get embarrassed by how incredibly strange I am and isn’t intimidated by the way I speak my mind. Who doesn’t just think of me as a physical entity but as a person who sometimes just wants to lay in bed and chat about why old people are the most adorable things in the universe without trying to touch me (because there’s nothing sexy about that topic). Who doesn’t think I’m vain when I talk about how much I love my hair but also doesn’t think I’m disgusting on my third day of choosing sleep over a shower. If this person never comes along, great. I’m fine with that.
While I’m at the point in my life where I’m ready for a relationship, I’m also perfectly happy being alone. I love my friends and am extremely proud of my life. All I ever wanted was to be happy. Like, really happy. Like, really purely extremely happy. Also, surrounded by friends that make me happier. And I have that now. Anything else is a plus.
Controlled Chaos 