The Trials and Tribulations of Being Single in your Twenties

I am the most single person I know by an alarmingly long way. Even though I am writing this anonymously, I reckon people can guess who I am just by that first sentence. I remember one of my best friends and I talking about when we would get a boyfriend when we were twelve, and both of us confidently stating that we would hold off until we were fifteen or sixteen as we declared that this was a good age for a first relationship. After being indoctrinated by my parents who would say through their rose-tinted lenses, “They’ll be queuing up for you…you’ll be batting them away” (a lie which is far worse than Father Christmas or the tooth fairy), my hopes and self-esteem were sky-high. But as my 16th birthday came and went, I started thinking that I should probably take my parents’ words with a pinch of salt. And here we are at the ripe old age of 21, and I’ve never had a semblance of a boyfriend. Yay!

When I was in sixth form, there was one horrendous day which I have only recently unblocked from my memory, when a group of boys in the year above me at school decided that they wanted to start dating people in my year. My friendship group was saturated with beautiful girls, and throughout this dreaded day, there were squeals of excitement in the group about which boy had added them on snapchat. I watched my comrades drop like flies, panic setting in. It was obvious that this group of boys had conferred between one another about which girl each of them had chosen to date, and I tried to push the thought that I wasn’t remotely on their radar to the back of my mind. I helped my friends get ready for their dates throughout the week and was eagerly waiting to hear their stories when they got back, trying to hide my raging jealousy and be happy for them. I kept on checking that my phone wasn’t on airplane mode or do not disturb, as my fragile ego insisted on believing that this had to be the only reason that I didn’t receive a message. For most of my friends this episode only amounted to flings, but a few ended up in established relationships. This ended my blissfully unaware single era, and the painfully conscious single era began.

At this time, it wasn’t being single that bothered me, it was about not having the choice not to be, where was the ‘batting away’ that I had been promised? I would say that now I am happy and confident in my singleness on the whole, but I would be lying if I said I didn’t have the occasional lapse where I splutter through tears “why doesn’t anyone like me?” And then comes the inevitable replies from friends saying the most annoying response known to man, “it will happen when you’re least expecting it”, followed by a story of their string of relationships in which they recount times when they just “weren’t expecting it!” Or the other infuriating “you just have to put yourself out there!” Literally what do you mean? Out where? Or “just get Hinge!” From someone who would never consider dating apps themselves. Another one is when you are talking to one of your really hot friends and they say “I’ll set you up with…” projecting their self-confidence and successful dating career onto you, albeit with all the best intentions.

The stark realisation that my life is an embodiment of the word single has reared its ugly head many times, I will name just a few. This weekend, my roommate had her boyfriend to stay and I had to share a room with them for a few nights. I found myself trying to sleep with my noise-cancelling headphones on and ordering a book called How to Not End Up Alone. The next day, I came over to my other friend’s flat for some respite from feeling like a spinster. She has got a situationship going on and he happened to be there too. After the three of us had chatted for ten short minutes, he piped up and said, “shall we let you study?” Just for reference, I had come empty handed – no laptop, no books and no mention of studying upon arrival. I laughed at his clear intention for me to leave them alone, said “message received” and found myself at a loss of where to go on account of my friends being in relationships and me being single. (I do normally have more than two friends, but I am on a year abroad, so times are tough). The one that takes pole position was when I was with three friends in Wales – two boys and a girl – and we were asking what each other’s types were. The other three described their types, mentioning specifics like height and hair colour. When it came round to me, I said, “I don’t really have a type – beggars can’t be choosers” – hoping for a few laughs. The response was an awkward and sympathetic “awww” followed by all three of them staring at the table just waiting for the moment to pass.

I have had a very small number of flings (by very small number I mean one) which ended in a blunt and unapologetic “I don’t think this is a good idea anymore” and then a few ego-crushing sleepovers where only one of them didn’t sleep with a good friend of mine a matter of days later. I have never held hands romantically with someone and the thought of me being in a relationship sounds like something from a dystopian novel. In the world of modern dating, when people have conversations about whether they are exclusive or whether they can see other people, it throws me into complete confusion – what other people? How on earth have you managed to have multiple options at the same time when I haven’t had one option at any time?

I am very aware that this article is embarrassingly “woe is me” and should not garner any sympathy in light of the news at the moment. It is trivial beyond belief, very introspective and does not register as a problem on the problem richer scale. But I can’t help wondering whether I will always be the friend, when asked the dreaded question of “how’s your love life?”, who will always answer through gritted teeth, “non-existent”.

But… I do think that being single should be celebrated. In this article I haven’t included the abundance of epic times which are inherent to single life in your twenties. As much as I admit that I sometimes feel like a massive loser when it dawns on me that I am yet to be in my first relationship, there are some big silver linings which I cannot fail to recognise. These things are not mutually exclusive with being in a relationship by any stretch, I just think that they are enhanced by being single. Being eternally single has provided me with a strong sense of self and an established individuality. It has forced me to learn the skill of self-validation and it enables spontaneity and a ‘do it for the plot’ mentality. I have also found that I can be a useful advice-giver for those in relationships, a sort of birds-eye view, because as we know, coaches don’t play. Although I have had some unintentional celibate droughts, being resolutely single has actually given me the time and capacity to nurture my platonic relationships. This is not to say that those in romantic relationships do not have this, it is just to say how much of a luxury it has been for it to be an unchallenged priority. So, from now on, I am going to actively stop myself from thinking of single as synonymous with sad and pathetic (which is forced down our throats by Bridget Jones) and not waste any more precious thinking time aligning self-esteem with a lack of relationship status. The quote “comparison, expectation and judgment are the thieves of joy” rings very true when discussing this topic. It is a funny time in your twenties when some of your friends are in fully-fledged, marriage-on-the-horizon relationships, whilst others don’t know whose bed they have woken up in. As my very wise friend Venetia says, “life is long…stay in your own lane”.