Being Single on Purpose

"Why am I so desperate to be wanted? To be touched?"

I’m the type of person who is rarely ever single, and when I am, it’s short-lived. I’ve been a fearless flirt and a textbook serial monogamist since I was thirteen years old. While I would prefer to continue blaming my Gemini sun for this, I know there’s something deeper at play.

I’m going through a breakup again. Just a few weeks ago, I exited an eight-month relationship that spiked my cortisol levels so badly, my periods became irregular.  I tend to lean toward avoidance in my romantic relationships, so this newfound post-breakup freedom often feels euphoric—especially after leaving a suffocating relationship.

My first instinct is to download Hinge and scan every room I’m in for beautiful people. I fantasize about casual dating and hookups. I get people’s numbers and Instagrams, relishing the ebb and flow of flirty conversations coated in sexual tension.

Only a week after leaving my ex-boyfriend, I went to Play (the gay club in Nashville) in search of a drunken good time. Accompanied by my newfound friend group, I joked all night that I was destined to find a bisexual man with a mustache and make him mine. I did indeed get drunk, and as if God Himself had been listening, a beautiful, well-dressed, (presumed) bisexual man with a mustache appeared before me. I got his Instagram, because of course I did, and my familiar pattern was perfectly on track to begin again.

The only problem: 

I am not ready—and will not be ready—to date for a long time. For the first time in five years, I’m trying to be single. Emphasis on trying.  

I’ve banned myself from dating apps. I’ve spent $150 on various books about how to stay single, how to love myself first, and how to value my friendships again. I keep setting boundaries for dating, but then I quickly and subconsciously start searching for reasons to cross them. I say, “I’m not looking for anything” in one breath, and in the next, I’m checking my story views and calculating how soon is “too soon” to start my next talking stage. Even when I’m so intentional about this stuff, there’s a part of me that just cannot break this habit. I know it’s as simple as not doing it, but detaching and existing as a single person is really hard for me.

When I unpack this feeling and identify it within my body, it feels "Urgent." That's the word I keep coming back to.  It feels like if I don’t act fast, I’m going to lose an opportunity, a small window of time.

I know, logically, that this pattern harms me and has the potential to make someone else collateral. No one deserves to be a part of the avoidant cycle I’m in right now. Unfortunately, I haven’t yet figured out *why* I operate this way. All I know is that it doesn’t serve me anymore.  

I don’t want to feel urgent, I don’t want to rush. I want to slow down. I want to know someone before I decide that I want them. I want connection over passion. These are the things I value the most. Identifying these things and acting in accordance with my values is all I need to be focused on right now. Breaking cycles and habits isn’t easy work.

For now, I’m spending all of the time and energy I would usually spend on a partner, on my friends and family. I’m making art, taking bubble baths, and buying frivolous things. My sister and I go to farmers markets, my friends and I explore the parts of nashville we’ve never seen. I’m taking myself on solo dates and romanticising my life alone. I want to relish all of the extra time I’ve got on my hands, and pour it into the things I love the most.

And if the beautiful, bisexual man from the club isn’t available many months from now when I’m ready, there are plenty of other bisexual, mustachioed fish in the sea. I mean, it’s Nashville, for God’s sake.