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Funnily enough, some people choose to be single

So, it came to my attention that there was a day this week called “Single’s Day.” Although, further research had me realise that it’s actually just an excuse for retail stores in China to have a sale. Oh, the joys of capitalism. Regardless, it had me thinking yesterday that it’s not often you hear people celebrating being single.

woman running through greenery
Photo by Noelle Otto from Pexels

I’m 22, and I’ve been single my entire life. And well, I’ve become pretty comfortable at being the third wheel. Sometimes the fifth wheel. Even the seventh wheel. The thing is though, it really doesn’t bother me at all. Being single has allowed me to travel the world, and live abroad, twice, with no strings attached. It’s allowed me to be as ambitious as I want without having to compromise for somebody else. Being single has meant that I can be selfish, spend time with myself, starfish sleep in my queen bed, leave the party whenever I want to and not ever worry that I’m letting someone down. Most of all, being single makes me bloody happy, and is that a bad thing?

A few months ago, I decided to download a dating app. My intentions were minimal; I suppose I just wanted to see what fish were in the sea. Long story short, a German guy who we shall call Lars (?) asked to go watch the sunset. I was completely taken off guard. It genuinely wasn’t my intention to ever actually ~ go on a date ~ but I ended up saying yes. Immediate regret followed. He seemed wholesome enough from his profile, but I wasn’t actually excited to meet him. I thought to myself, worst comes to worst, I could ask him about travelling. He is a German in Australia after all. The next day, I started to feel some weird vibes. His “hello how was your day xx” messages each night feel annoying and meaningless. I don’t really care about how this guy’s day has gone. I haven’t even met him. By the time Friday rolled around, I did not want to go. But I forced myself to try this thing AT LEAST once.

Turns out, I was right. Lars was boring af. All he talked about was cars, how much rent he paid when he lived in Bondi and why Australian food wasn’t nice. I was offended. It also became clear to me that he had other intentions, and then I just felt plain stupid. As I was driving home, I realised that I shouldn’t force myself to date if I genuinely don’t want to. I hate that there’s this expectation that when we’re young we have to get ‘seasoned’ before we come across the right person. I hate that there’s articles that advise people to lower their standards and set “realistic expectations.” No. I am a pretty decent gal and I won’t settle for a boy who only eats toast for dinner and refuses to accept that dance and gymnastics are sports. I hate that extended family members think it’s appropriate every Christmas to ask why you don’t have a boyfriend. I hate that people keep asking me if I’m asexual or gay, as if being 22 and single automatically means it’s okay to make assumptions about my sexual orientation.

Although it may be surprising to some, I love being single. And I wish society would stop hating me for it.