At the ripe old age of 23, I feel a strange sense of urgency to settle down. Due to a gap year and a 4 year uni course, I'm graduating after most of my peers. The idea of starting a career, moving, and having to meet a whole load of new people was scary enough before the pandemic, and now even more so. Just to add to that, before entering a period of indefinite lockdown, I found myself newly single, and was gripped by a feeling that I was lost which began to drive me insane. I had assumed I'd meet the love of my life while I was at university, and since that hasn't been the case, it feels like there's a rush to make sure that I find "the one" and am ready to settle down when I enter my 30s, by which point I will be armed with a newborn, and a newfound love of aperol spritz.
So much of my life has been spent thinking about men, which possibly makes me the worst feminist ever. I worry about how they perceive me, whether they are attracted to me, how I can get and keep a nice, stable, long term boyfriend. I sometimes wonder if I'm being too picky, but then again, one of the few men I've met from dating apps was a proud Trump supporter who slept in his parent's living room, and had 13 cats. Even he seems to be having more luck in the dating department than me. Perhaps I am simply destined for a life of settling for someone I'm not 100% sure of, and should just invest in some animal fur allergy medication.
So much of my life has been spent thinking about men, which possibly makes me the worst feminist ever. I worry about how they perceive me, whether they are attracted to me, how I can get and keep a nice, stable, long term boyfriend. I sometimes wonder if I'm being too picky, but then again, one of the few men I've met from dating apps was a proud Trump supporter who slept in his parent's living room, and had 13 cats. Even he seems to be having more luck in the dating department than me. Perhaps I am simply destined for a life of settling for someone I'm not 100% sure of, and should just invest in some animal fur allergy medication.
I think my lack of luck in love hit me hard when I was 16. Prior to that point, I'd pretty much always got what I wanted. Not in a brattish way- I never did get that sand moulding kit or nail art set I circled every Christmas in the Argos catalogue. But when I tried something new I managed to achieve it, whether it was getting into grammar school, convincing my parents that I needed another hamster, or getting a job in a bakery (probably because I'd accept £5 an hour as an excellent wage). So when the first boy I kissed wasn't immediately infatuated by me, and in fact, didn't even message me afterwards on Facebook, I quickly realised that situations involving boys were a bit more complicated than the world of girl's school school reports, and I was not guaranteed an A every time.
My first relationship has probably shaped my outlook on both love and life more than I really expected. It was messy to say the least. I didn't question the fact that we didn't put a label on the nature of "us" for 6 months, and I felt like it would be extremely wrong of me to ask, to check we were on the same page, for fear of losing him. This quickly became a theme for how I approached all romantic encounters- if you ignore problems, they will solve themselves. The ending of that first relationship was bad. Being cheated on by the first boy to tell me he loved me felt like every negative thought I'd ever had about myself had just been permanently confirmed. It was as if every concern I'd had that I was unlovable was true, and everyone knew it, and as I spent days and weeks crying in the kitchen while I waited for the kettle to boil, or as I walked home from the bus stop after a night out with my friends, a cloud-like feeling of emptiness came over me. I think the whole experience left me a kind of bitter that I was not before.
I spent the next year single, making the occasional questionable choice that just became a story to laugh about later. But the feeling that I had had something and lost it was one that I struggled to move beyond. Questions entered my mind: why did my friend's boyfriends love them more than mine had loved me? Why had I spent the whole relationship being unsure if I was in love, or what love even was? Was there something wrong with me, that meant he had to find love somewhere else, and was this going to happen when I was in relationships in the future?
A few months after this bad first break up I remember vividly sitting in the back of a friend's car on the way home from a party, and the guy sitting next to me showing me a note he'd written on his phone. "I fancy her so much" it said, referring to our female friend sat in the passenger seat. I smiled, feigned happiness for them both, then cried into my pillow when I got home. This kind of reinforcing experience repeated itself; a couple of years later, a bartender waited until my friend went to the toilet then came to ask me if she was single. Multiple people have matched with me on Tinder, purely to ask if my friend in the fifth photo was available. A guy I knew well once joked that I was probably a 7/10. These occasions just felt like confirmation that I was destined to take on the "ugly friend" role; one which I had seemingly forgotten I'd auditioned for.
Not look after the first break up I discovered the world of casual relationships- perhaps in an attempt to fill the void that the first relationship had left. I quickly realised that they are not fulfilling. What seems fun and exciting at first, and what I convinced myself was less hassle than a full blown relationship, actually turned out to feel a lot like watching the guy you thought you were going home with kissing someone else in front of you, and a lot like no one else actually wanting to kiss you either, ruining your plan to somehow 'get even'. It also felt like never being sure you'd get a text back, and also being permanently sad that you couldn't do nice coupley things like go for brunch, because that would definitely not be casual, and definitely show that inside you just wanted someone to cuddle for the rest of your life. I was much less carefree and cool at 19 than I'd let anyone believe.
I was wildly optimistic for university, expecting love to just waltz right into my halls. And in a way it did. During my four years at university I was in 2 relationships, which shaped my experience of the place, and showed me the joys of being half of a pair with someone else. Being introduced as "my lovely girlfriend" to people made me feel like I finally had a title. Yep, that's right. This crippling social anxiety might make me seem shy and nervous, but now that we're all aware that I am actually worthy of affection because someone's chosen to be with me, I must actually be more exciting than I'm coming across. I liked the comfort and routine of having someone to eat dinner with, someone to bring cereal to in bed in the morning, and someone to meet up with for breaks from the library.
But even while in these relationships, I found it daunting to know that it would either end in a life together, maybe marriage and kids, one of us dying prematurely, or, the only alternative: we'd break up. The thought scared me constantly. I'd sometimes look across at the boy sleeping next to me, trying to imagine if we'd be producing offspring and going on holidays to France in a sweaty car, and later going on trips on coaches to the seaside all wrinkly and grey, or if we would not. We'd be strangers who'd cried together, laughed together, and seen quite literally all of each other, but one day we might say an awkward hi if we saw each other in the street, then message the group chat to discuss how painful the encounter was, for our friends to shower us in sympathy and say they never liked him anyway. And the answer was of course, the latter. I have been thrown back into single life, existing as a one, twice in the last 18 months.
I miss weird things after break ups. I remember obscure things in too much detail and feel like they constantly replay in my head. I miss their family liking photos on Facebook. I miss their pets. I miss specific foods we ate together, and the familiarity of someone knowing exactly how you like your tea, or which sweets you'd choose in the 3 for £1 deal (cola laces, by the way). I miss thoughtful actions like someone surprising you with ice cream they thought you would like, or being able to pick out a gift for someone based on something they mentioned in a conversation months ago.
I miss weird things after break ups. I remember obscure things in too much detail and feel like they constantly replay in my head. I miss their family liking photos on Facebook. I miss their pets. I miss specific foods we ate together, and the familiarity of someone knowing exactly how you like your tea, or which sweets you'd choose in the 3 for £1 deal (cola laces, by the way). I miss thoughtful actions like someone surprising you with ice cream they thought you would like, or being able to pick out a gift for someone based on something they mentioned in a conversation months ago.
In my 20s, I feel as if everything is oriented around romantic life. As a teenager my little girl gang was very much the centre of my universe. Yes, we still wanted boyfriends. We used to play a game called "never would I ever" because we hadn't been within about 3m of a male outside of our family since starting year 7. We'd confess to whether we'd hypothetically have sex on a second date, or if we'd date someone 5 years older than us. It felt like everyone's first romantic encounters were happening to us all. I'd live vicariously through all my friend's first kisses. We'd sit in sixth form assembly on a Monday morning providing updates to anything that had happened over the weekend, and there was an element of competitiveness, not to be the last to participate in this new found territory of experience.
It's somewhat inevitable that when your friends gets into a relationship, the friendship changes. I noticed one year that when we tried to arrange meeting up as a group of girls, someone mentioned that everyone was welcome to bring their romantic partner. As a single person I felt like a toddler throwing her toys out of the pram by being internally bitter that I had just hoped that it would be the girls. I wasn't even 100% sure why. After my first break up, and possibly even before, I felt like every couple were bragging. That their happiness was not genuine, but rather a display, to remind me that I had not achieved what they had. Making small talk with people's boyfriends as a single person sometimes makes me feel childish, and as if I am constantly wearing a badge which says "I can't make a relationship work, so I've probably got some major flaws which you and your partner don't have".
Being a one feels a bit tragic sometimes. That was, until I recently read Dolly Alderton's Everything I Know About Love, and felt as though my life had changed forever. She makes the very valid point that who you meet, how they treat you, whether you both want the same things at the same time- it's just luck. It's purely down to chance. Your friend might meet the person she marries at 13. Another friend might be the greatest person you know and still be single, dating weird men who shouldn't be allowed to reproduce anyway, at 30. You can scroll through tinder for hours, and still swipe left on someone you'd actually fall in love with if they just hadn't picked that photo where they're holding the giant fish they caught.
The most fulfilling and rewarding relationships I have experienced have been platonic. Break ups make me feel like someone has ripped my heart out of my chest, stamped on it repeatedly, and then left it for me to try and repair. But I have never had to do that repairing alone. I have always been surrounded by the kindest, most patient friends to get through those times. Friends who will drop round presents at my house when I'm crying on the sofa. Friends who will text me in the morning daily for weeks after to ask how I'm doing. Friends who will listen and reply to the 7 minute long voicenotes of me tearfully describing the phone call me and an ex have had. Friends who will consistently and unrelentingly hate the boy I'm crying over, even if I repeatedly tell them that he didn't really do anything wrong. Friends who will take photos of me laughing and having fun purely to try to prove that I'm doing okay. Friends who will remind me to delete the photos, and the messages, to block his number, but who will stay support me when I admit that I've spoken to or seen him again, albeit sometimes through gritted teeth.
It has taken me a long long time to come to terms with the fact that it is okay to be single. I really like the quote "I'm fucking gold, but if you prefer silver, that's okay". Someone else's inability to love you like you deserve to be loved is not a flaw on your part. You do not need to change how you are to somehow make yourself worthy of another's affection. It's easy to reflect on all the "what ifs" after a failed relationship and wonder how maybe, if you could have acted differently, something might have worked out. But you have to stop wondering at some point. Relationships are a two-way commitment, and your love alone is not enough to save them. Everyone is going through life at a different pace, and if someone is not ready to commit to you, you can't force them to, and you shouldn't.
Instead, you should make plans with your friends. Do all the coupley things you had planned to do with a partner with them. City breaks with friends are just as fun. As are beach holidays. As are date nights. Your friends can learn exactly how you like your tea, and you can buy your friends ice cream that you knew that they would like. Your friend's family can comment on pictures of you on Facebook. As a single friend you get to do weird things, like meet up with strangers from Tinder which leave you with obscure stories and answers in games of Never Have I ever. You get to sleep in the middle of your double bed, and wake up exactly when you want to. You don't have to check that your partner is having a good time at the party you brought them to where they don't know anyone. You don't have to argue over whether they message you enough. You don't have to watch them play COD with their friends, or pretend to be interested in a boring sports match on TV. You can leave social events whenever you want to. The best encounters and friendships in clubs definitely occur in the girl's toilets, anyway. And climbing into your friend's bed after a night out and discussing all the ridiculous things which happened the night before is actually more entertaining than waking up next to a random you met in a club.
And with time, you will meet people who you want to be with. And it may or may not work out. And the same will happen to your friends. The most stable couple you know might decide that it just isn't working any more. Your single friend who screams when any man approaches her and who views men as the enemy might end up all loved up and ready to reproduce before you. And that's okay. It's not a race. In the same way that the big rush to have your first kiss turned out to mean nothing, so does this. You are still attractive, and funny, and intelligent, and worthy of love and affection whether your facebook bio says single or in a relationship. And if he's got 13 cats, have some fucking self respect and book an uber home.
Platonic love is consistent, and it's stable. It can involve going months without seeing someone and knowing, every time, that you still have the same connection and familiarity as if you'd seen them every day. Platonic love leaves you laughing until your stomach hurts and until you're crying, making the same shitty jokes and still finding them funny. It's being able to discuss your first period, or whether or not you should shave your arms, or wax your upper lip. It's doing drunken karaoke to abba or britney spears and not feeling at all embarrassed to know all the words. It's not the same as romantic love, and it doesn't try to be. It's different, but it's important, it's valid, and it doesn't leave you on read, or crying yourself to sleep wondering why you weren't good enough. When I told one friend I'd been dumped, she just replied "girls are better anyway. men are just penises on a stick", and if you take nothing else away from this blog post, please take away that.
Lessons I have learnt over the last 6 years:
1. If he wants to text you, he will.
2. If he's having doubts, it's probably time to call it a day.
3. Whatever you need to do to get closure, do it. Even if your friends think it's a bad idea.
4. If he doesn't want to tell people about you two- to his friends, to his parents, to anyone- It's a big red flag, and you should exit the situation immediately.
5. You can't ignore the small things. Because they keep adding up to a very big thing. Address them as they happen. If you can't resolve them, realise that now.
6. Effective communication is at the heart of every successful relationship, romantic or platonic.
7. Always pee after sex.
8. Your friends not thinking he's fit is irrelevant. Unless you want them to sleep with him, too. In which case, you've probably struggled to relate to any of this blogpost.
9. After a break up, move all of your photos together to a folder on their own, and store it on your laptop. Opt to "see less" of them on Facebook. Mute them and their friends on Instagram. Archive your conversations.
10. It does get easier. You do think about them less. Being told this at the time is not helpful because it doesn't feel true, but it really, 100% is.
11. Cry. Whenever you feel like crying. It helps. Even if you're crying all the time. Even if you have to keep drinking water to prevent dehydration. Let it all out. It's healthy.
12. Being a cool single aunt who is mysterious, elegant and always on holiday is a big vibe and how I'm always trying to be, anyway.
13. If Jennifer Aniston can get over Brad Pitt, you can get over anyone.
Laura x
The most fulfilling and rewarding relationships I have experienced have been platonic. Break ups make me feel like someone has ripped my heart out of my chest, stamped on it repeatedly, and then left it for me to try and repair. But I have never had to do that repairing alone. I have always been surrounded by the kindest, most patient friends to get through those times. Friends who will drop round presents at my house when I'm crying on the sofa. Friends who will text me in the morning daily for weeks after to ask how I'm doing. Friends who will listen and reply to the 7 minute long voicenotes of me tearfully describing the phone call me and an ex have had. Friends who will consistently and unrelentingly hate the boy I'm crying over, even if I repeatedly tell them that he didn't really do anything wrong. Friends who will take photos of me laughing and having fun purely to try to prove that I'm doing okay. Friends who will remind me to delete the photos, and the messages, to block his number, but who will stay support me when I admit that I've spoken to or seen him again, albeit sometimes through gritted teeth.
It has taken me a long long time to come to terms with the fact that it is okay to be single. I really like the quote "I'm fucking gold, but if you prefer silver, that's okay". Someone else's inability to love you like you deserve to be loved is not a flaw on your part. You do not need to change how you are to somehow make yourself worthy of another's affection. It's easy to reflect on all the "what ifs" after a failed relationship and wonder how maybe, if you could have acted differently, something might have worked out. But you have to stop wondering at some point. Relationships are a two-way commitment, and your love alone is not enough to save them. Everyone is going through life at a different pace, and if someone is not ready to commit to you, you can't force them to, and you shouldn't.
Instead, you should make plans with your friends. Do all the coupley things you had planned to do with a partner with them. City breaks with friends are just as fun. As are beach holidays. As are date nights. Your friends can learn exactly how you like your tea, and you can buy your friends ice cream that you knew that they would like. Your friend's family can comment on pictures of you on Facebook. As a single friend you get to do weird things, like meet up with strangers from Tinder which leave you with obscure stories and answers in games of Never Have I ever. You get to sleep in the middle of your double bed, and wake up exactly when you want to. You don't have to check that your partner is having a good time at the party you brought them to where they don't know anyone. You don't have to argue over whether they message you enough. You don't have to watch them play COD with their friends, or pretend to be interested in a boring sports match on TV. You can leave social events whenever you want to. The best encounters and friendships in clubs definitely occur in the girl's toilets, anyway. And climbing into your friend's bed after a night out and discussing all the ridiculous things which happened the night before is actually more entertaining than waking up next to a random you met in a club.
And with time, you will meet people who you want to be with. And it may or may not work out. And the same will happen to your friends. The most stable couple you know might decide that it just isn't working any more. Your single friend who screams when any man approaches her and who views men as the enemy might end up all loved up and ready to reproduce before you. And that's okay. It's not a race. In the same way that the big rush to have your first kiss turned out to mean nothing, so does this. You are still attractive, and funny, and intelligent, and worthy of love and affection whether your facebook bio says single or in a relationship. And if he's got 13 cats, have some fucking self respect and book an uber home.
Platonic love is consistent, and it's stable. It can involve going months without seeing someone and knowing, every time, that you still have the same connection and familiarity as if you'd seen them every day. Platonic love leaves you laughing until your stomach hurts and until you're crying, making the same shitty jokes and still finding them funny. It's being able to discuss your first period, or whether or not you should shave your arms, or wax your upper lip. It's doing drunken karaoke to abba or britney spears and not feeling at all embarrassed to know all the words. It's not the same as romantic love, and it doesn't try to be. It's different, but it's important, it's valid, and it doesn't leave you on read, or crying yourself to sleep wondering why you weren't good enough. When I told one friend I'd been dumped, she just replied "girls are better anyway. men are just penises on a stick", and if you take nothing else away from this blog post, please take away that.
Lessons I have learnt over the last 6 years:
1. If he wants to text you, he will.
2. If he's having doubts, it's probably time to call it a day.
3. Whatever you need to do to get closure, do it. Even if your friends think it's a bad idea.
4. If he doesn't want to tell people about you two- to his friends, to his parents, to anyone- It's a big red flag, and you should exit the situation immediately.
5. You can't ignore the small things. Because they keep adding up to a very big thing. Address them as they happen. If you can't resolve them, realise that now.
6. Effective communication is at the heart of every successful relationship, romantic or platonic.
7. Always pee after sex.
8. Your friends not thinking he's fit is irrelevant. Unless you want them to sleep with him, too. In which case, you've probably struggled to relate to any of this blogpost.
9. After a break up, move all of your photos together to a folder on their own, and store it on your laptop. Opt to "see less" of them on Facebook. Mute them and their friends on Instagram. Archive your conversations.
10. It does get easier. You do think about them less. Being told this at the time is not helpful because it doesn't feel true, but it really, 100% is.
11. Cry. Whenever you feel like crying. It helps. Even if you're crying all the time. Even if you have to keep drinking water to prevent dehydration. Let it all out. It's healthy.
12. Being a cool single aunt who is mysterious, elegant and always on holiday is a big vibe and how I'm always trying to be, anyway.
13. If Jennifer Aniston can get over Brad Pitt, you can get over anyone.
Laura x
