As the calendar turns to February, I am already preparing for the flurry of Valentine’s imagery as the season rolls around. Heart, cupids, flowers, all in shades of red and pink, and kiss marks – for those who choose to be a bit more risqué.
In speaking of single people, I also already anticipate people circulating the same jokes online about being single, and how they are fine with it and totally not bitter about it, even if their tone suspiciously suggests that they are.
If you ask me a couple years back, I might say I am one of those people – though I would deny it at first.
In high school, when other students try to organize a grand display of affection in the school grounds, I find some joy when the principal reprimands them for all the commotion they are causing. In college, when I see people roaming around with bouquets in their hands, loitering the halls waiting for their partner to finish class, I can’t help but roll my eyes. When I started working, I see couples – hand-in-hand- making their way to restaurants for the date they reserved months prior. Meanwhile, I am making my way home; the only thing awaiting me is a bed that will keep me warm at night after a long-days work.
It’s not jealousy.
I am not envious because other people are able to be in love.
“It’s disappointing that the universe doesn’t seem to have any plans to have me meet the love of my life through one cinematic karmic interaction.”
It’s the feeling of disappointment. Disappointment that I haven’t experienced my own meet-cute. I had no enemies to lovers plot happening in high school like Kat and Patrick in 10 Things I Hate About You. I haven’t bumped on anyone and accidentally spilled orange juice just like William did Anna Scott in Notting Hill. No one has whisked me away in a night’s adventure only for me to meet them years later like Jonathan and Sara in Serendipity. It’s disappointing that the universe doesn’t seem to have any plans to have me meet the love of my life through one cinematic karmic interaction. No accidental sleeping on stanger’s shoulder while riding a bus. No getting your hands on the same book at a library. No room for chance encounters.
Then comes the frustration of realizing how hard it is to find genuine connection these days. Interactions are reduced to the screen. People are reduced to photos you swipe left and right. Different faces but the same monotonous conversations that will die down in just a day or two. It’s the frustration on yourself that you believed when people said that all you need to do is go through life being the better and bigger person, then the right one will come your way.
It comes to a point where I start mourning. I mourn my youth. I mourn how I didn’t allow myself the joy and excitement of being in your younger years. How I didn’t render myself dumb for loving another person. To revel in the recklessness that you are afforded being young. I mourn that I’m mourning my youth.
So, in my mid-20s couple of years shy of 30, I chose to embrace being alone.
I chose my solitude.
Choosing solitude might be a scary thought for some. A lot of people seem to have a fear of being alone. For me, it was easy letting go.
“There’s this unspoken yet potent pressure of not only being able to love someone, but also being able to afford loving someone.”
It may be because of some anxieties I have of what a long term relationship might entail.
The possibility of being in a relationship with some I no longer love does not sit right with me. I have seen countless loveless relationships between people who no longer bring happiness to one another but for some reason cannot seem to get out of it. People always say that it’s a choice to continue loving someone everyday; but they never talk about the choice of being with someone you no longer love.
I might be giving people too much credit thinking that people enter relationships because of love. As Florence Pugh’s character Amy in Little Women said, “Don’t sit there and tell me that marriage isn’t an economic proposition because it is.”
Love is an economic proposition. You have to go on dates. Sometimes a simple dinner is not enough, you have to do something before or after your meal. Then, you have to repeat it multiple times before being in a relationship. Once you’re in a relationship, those dates become constant. Then, you have to buy them gifts. There’s Valentine’s, Birthdays, Christmas, and even a surprise on a simple Thursday night.
At the same time, you shouldn’t just spend on your partner. You have to spend for your family, friends, and yourself. On top of that are bills, housing, food, healthcare, and other expenses.
There’s this unspoken yet potent pressure of not only being able to love someone, but also being able to afford loving someone. It’s hard to love in this economy.
So, it is easy for me to let go. To choose to be alone. It’s the loneliness that draws people’s fear of being alone. But what they might not think about is with choosing your solitude comes peacefulness.
I chose my peace.
There’s a serenity with choosing solitude.
It’s dining alone, kicking your feet under the table as you enjoy and savour the flavours of your meal amidst the bustling restaurant. It’s putting your headphones on your way home, humming, getting lost in the tune of your favorite song despite being in a crammed train. It’s the small skips as you stroll the street, embracing the warmth while being under the blazing hot sun.
That is the beauty of being alone. Consciously choosing solitude allows you to escape the hustle and bustle of your daily life and lets you appreciate the small pockets of happiness in it.
By choosing to be alone, you also stop living your life for other people.
There is no pressure to present this manicured image for the world to see, trying to impress them pretending that you have your life all figured out. No need to seek other people’s validation or conform to the image they have of you.
“Being alone also brings a sense of comfort… Solitude makes you find happiness in contentment”
You get to experience life at your own pace. You get to choose what you want. You get to express yourself without the fear of scrutiny. You get to feel and express your emotions however you want to. You are allowed to be sad, to be angry. You get to choose the right time to be vulnerable, when, where, and to whom. You get to choose when you want to hang out. You get to choose if you want to flirt or not.
Being alone and unplugging from the world once in a while, allows you to see different facets of yourself and gain a stronger sense of self. In a world where you can discover and drop new people in a single swipe, isn’t it more exciting to meet a new version of yourself?
Being alone also brings a sense of comfort.
One day, a close friend of mine called me to tell me she was getting married to her partner who she had been with since we were in college. As she was talking visibly happy and newly engaged, and me lying alone on my bed thinking of what show to binge next, I felt genuine happiness for her. No eye roll.
Solitude makes you find happiness in contentment. Knowing that a person you once shared the same space and experiences with at a point of their life has moved on with their lives. You have as well, albeit the paths you’ve taken might be a bit different. And that’s okay. It makes you excited when you cross paths again, telling each other stories of the adventures you had – or did not have – and being able to share that happiness together.
I am not cynical about love.
I did not choose to be alone because I garnered a negative view on love- even if I sound like it.
I love watching romantic movies and seeing the main couple end up together after a grand declaration of love partnered with a sweeping musical score.
I love listening to music that brings you back the memory and feeling of falling in love, the fear, the awkwardness, the excitement.
I love discovering writers overwhelmed by the feeling of love that all they can do is to put their emotions in the most beautiful poetry.
I love seeing the people I love being in love.
I love the idea of loving.
I am a romantic, and my time of solitude did not make me hate love. Rather, it made me more optimistic.
More optimistic that the meet-cute that I’ve always will actually do come; the universe might just be late in its timing. More optimistic that the right one will come along, just like what people said. Optimistic that someone will not make me feel like an Amy and prove that love is not an economic proposition but a matter of heart.
I am hopeful that a time will come that love will come my way. And when it happens, I can confidently dive in knowing that I don’t need a relationship to complete me, because I already am. It will be a great story of perseverance in finding love.
At the same time, if that time does not come, I am hopeful that I will still remain happy. To feel that I am still the main character of my own film, even if I’m not the romantic ingénue I wish I could have been. And in the final scene of this film, what people see is the main character, alone, looking at peace with a genuine smile on their face.
