I’m Not Sure I Want to Give Up Being Single

As much as I love falling in love, my most beloved companion is the person in my mirror

A few nights ago, I was walking along the river, just after the sun had set, watching the watery light that barely peeked through the darkening night sky. The wind was cold coming off the water and there was a line of geese sitting on a nearby sandbar.

I was there with a man. Someone who had spent the past few hours in my bed.

I recalled that the last time I stood in that spot, the last time I watched the wild geese settle in for the night, the last time I had seen the sun set over the river was October 2019.

On that beautiful night that I recall so clearly, I met my friend Sunny for a date at a restaurant we loved. I remember that night so well because we had a very candid conversation about love. How much we longed for it. How lonely we were. How we might better open our hearts to the potential for new love.

And I remember that night so well because I took a walk by myself along the river after we parted ways. I was feeling very romantic thanks to the conversation and company (yes, friendships can be romantic) and I wanted to enjoy my date night a little longer, even after Sunny had gone home.

So I walked with myself along the riverside path, past joggers and cyclists and happy couples and giggling families. I was alone, but I did not feel alone.

Fast forward a year and a half and I was standing in that very same spot again, with a man I was falling for, and I remembered that night in 2019 with such clarity. And such nostalgia.

I realized that I’d just spent the last year and a half being a fucking amazing partner to myself.

While listening to Pandora the other day, a song came on that I hadn’t heard in years: Whitney Houston’s Greatest Love of All. Any fellow Gen Xer reading this right now will likely tumble back in their memory to the sixty-seven million times they heard this song being sung by a classmate at a school assembly.

When I was in middle school, my mom made me memorize the lyrics. She was so determined to teach me to love myself above all else — even though she hadn’t learned that lesson, herself.

Everybody’s searching for a hero People need someone to look up to I never found anyone who fulfilled my needs A lonely place to be And so I learned to depend on me

Hearing the song again in my forties gave me the chills. It’s a pretty damn good song, if you can forget all the Whitney Wannabes who butchered it in the 80s and 90s.

I learned to depend on me. What a profound statement.

I felt both a sting of pain and an explosion of pride when I heard those words. That’s exactly what I’ve learned to do. It wasn’t easy, but after a romantic relationship that left my life in tatters, I had no choice but to learn to depend entirely and solely upon myself.

In the beginning, the tasks were simple. Unburdened of emotions.

Find a place to live. Get a more stable job. Pay off student loan. Upgrade vehicle.

Check. Check. Check. Check.

But one day, when all the demands of basic survival are finally met, you have to face the one last task left: taking care of your own heart.

Our culture doesn’t do a very good job at teaching us how to love ourselves. To depend on ourselves. To fulfill our own needs.

Most everyone I know learns how to do that the hard way. Or not at all.

Of course, if we did teach people how to do that, we’d have to acknowledge that the romantic illusions our culture loves to perpetuate are just that: illusions. And god help us, we cannot do that. It would topple basic family values, destroy the sanctity of heterosexual marriages, and force the birth rate to plummet.

Or at least, that’s the story.

I was only interested in that story for a very short period of time in my life. You know…until it became apparent that it’s a broken tale that makes broken people.

I suppose you could say it was lucky that I didn’t experience healthy romantic relationships. This forced me to invest in my independence with increasing depth as time went on. Even in my longest relationship, I was aware early on that I was mostly on my own and had to take care of myself.

I don’t think anyone really wants to be indefinitely alone all the time, no matter how much of a loner they might be. But sometimes, we find out that we’re alone even when we’re part of a couple.

That was one of the best lessons I ever learned, in fact: that being alone and by myself was a lot better than being alone with a partner.

It’s true that I’ve always wanted to be in a good partnership. That I’ve always, always wanted to be deeply loved — so loved that someone would choose to stay by my side even in difficult circumstances.

Despite what our culture wants us to believe, many of us find out the hard truth that this is outside of our control. No matter how much we want it, we cannot add “fall in love” to our to-do list. It just doesn’t work that way.

Sure, we might find someone to love. Or we might decide to settle for a match that isn’t very fulfilling just to have companionship. Or we might choose to stay alone until something that feels truly right comes along.

In the absence of finding someone who is able to love me, and refusing to settle anymore, I have chosen to be single.

Maybe over the years, this has proven to be a helpful choice. Because you know what? I truly love being in my own company. I truly love the life I have made for myself.

And I have spent the past few years learning how to be my own best partner, my own best lover, my own best companion. I haven’t perfected this art, by any means, but…I’m doing a damn good job so far.

As I stood there near the river on that dark spring night, with a new lover on my arm, I felt a little bit scared. A little bit sad.

Sure, I really liked this guy, but also…I like myself more. I like my life. I like who I’m becoming. And I love my freedom.

Of course I want great sex. And of course, more than anything, I want to be loved.

But I don’t want to lose myself. I don’t want to compromise until who I am and what I want is gone. I don’t want to start changing myself or where I’m going.

This is the hardest part of any new relationship I’ve ever been in: that moment when I realize I want to go deeper with someone.

It’s the hardest part because it means that I have to make room for another person. You see, I already have a relationship. I already have a companion. I already have someone I can rely on, someone I know will never, ever let me down or fail to show up for me.

That person is me. And I often find myself wondering if there is any relationship that might come into my life that won’t make me feel like I have to give up — even just a little bit — some of my relationship with myself.

I never found anyone who took care of me the way I take care of myself. I never found anyone who made me feel as comfortable as I am around myself. I never found anyone who loved me the way I love myself.

I really did find the greatest love of all, right there, inside of me. And I don’t want to give it up. Not for anyone or anything.

© Yael Wolfe 2021

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