Why I Choose Being Single

The other night, I wanted to reach out to someone.

Normally, I would have.

This time, I didn’t.

Not because I was angry. Not because I was trying to prove something. I simply thought about what would probably happen.

I’ve had enough interactions with this person to have a reasonable idea.

What I wanted wasn’t what I was likely to get.

The feeling didn’t disappear because I understood that. I still wanted to reach out.

I think sometimes our expectations take a little longer to catch up to reality.

For a long time, I paid more attention to what a relationship could be. What a conversation could become. What someone might eventually be able to give.

Now I’m trying to pay more attention to what actually happens.

A lot of what looks like curiosity isn’t necessarily curiosity.

Sometimes it’s a bridge.

“How was your day?” can really mean, “Ask me about mine.”

Someone can bring up something important to you because it creates an opening to talk about something important to them.

I don’t think there’s anything inherently wrong with that. We all have needs. We all want to be heard. We all want reassurance sometimes.

I do too.

But I need something else alongside it.

I want someone who wants to know me because knowing me is itself interesting to them.

I don’t mind someone needing me.

I don’t want needing me to become the structure of the relationship.

Because once that happens, I start occupying a role I don’t want.

I become the person who listens, reassures, understands, steadies, and absorbs.

Eventually, I stop feeling like a partner and start feeling like a parent.

I’ve learned that I’m not interested in that kind of relationship.

That doesn’t mean I need someone who has everything figured out. I certainly don’t.

I don’t need perfect emotional regulation. Perfect communication. Perfect reciprocity.

I just want someone who can meet me somewhere near the middle.

And that’s why being single doesn’t feel particularly tragic to me anymore.

Being alone has a lower cost than being in an asymmetric relationship.

That doesn’t mean I don’t want someone.

I do.

I’m open to meeting people. I’m open to being surprised. I’m even open to discovering that some of what I currently believe is wrong.

But wanting a relationship doesn’t mean I have to want every version of one.

Sometimes I still feel the urge to reach backward.

Sometimes the projection arrives before reality does.

That’s okay.

I can feel it without following it.

I’m not choosing against relationships.

I’m choosing the kind of relationship I’d actually want to be in.