For as long as I can remember, one’s worth was loosely (often entirely) tied to three things:
- Their career path
- Their own or their family’s financial status
- Their romantic prowess
The third point became increasingly apparent to me as I grew older; from meaningless primary school relationships as indestructible as a wet paper towel, to witnessing two engagements in the space of twelve months. The human race was a well oiled machine, running solely on the pipe dream of a soulmate-type connection with another. Whilst love doesn’t fully encompass the meaning behind our existence, it would be naive of me to not acknowledge it as a substantial part of it, even more so with the perfect love story being narrated to us relentlessly in every art form to have ever graced the Earth, each an easy fix of dopamine and oxytocin. Love is so important to us humans that it’s widely seen as our only real purpose in life, an idea that is pushed on us so persistently, it can easily serve as comfort - one day I’ll meet someone that will make flowers bloom in between my ribs, and I will grow old by their side.
Only now, you’re suddenly somewhere in your twenties, and the closest thing you’ve had to flowers blooming in your chest was a violent asthma attack at 17 - at least that’s the case for me. And, frankly, I paid little attention to the lack of romantic experiences in my life until sixth form & eventually university, surrounded by older and inexplicably more experienced friends whose faces quickly descended into shock as I presented my non-existent romantic skillset to them. Even now, six months into 20, it’s still looking rather dry.
Like most people when faced with ‘It will happen eventually!’ and sayings of the sort, I made it my mission to bring eventually into the present. I went out, mingled and even downloaded a couple of dating apps, chasing love tirelessly. Through trials and tribulations, highs and lows, I prevailed - until I no longer did. I hit a wall after yet another unsuccessful talking stage and wasted no time in labelling myself as unlovable and damaged, retreating further back into a shell I was barely out of in the first place. This is obviously not an isolated case; I’m certain millions of people in all age brackets have felt that way at some point, but realising that in a sea of people not a soul wants you in your 20’s is - colloquially put - fucking devastating.
At our age, love is placed on a pedestal, and only those privy to it are worthy, when really, that is not the case. Like, at all.
Undoubtedly, romantic love is fantastic (apparently), but it should not serve as the only purpose of life when there are so many more other things that are just as fulfilling. Furthermore, loving yourself (which most definitely isn’t a criteria for being loved by others - believing you must love yourself first before others pushes the idea that those who don’t love themselves aren’t worthy of love, but that’s tea for another afternoon) and being entirely in tune with yourself can be just as rewarding as a bond with someone else. After all, you are the longest relationship you’ll have of this planet.
Consequently, the ache of loneliness is unforgiving, and will creep up on anybody regardless of their relationship status, so being in one isn’t a guarantee that you’ll keep it at bay. Being single also opens the door to new friends a little wider, those which are guaranteed to show you that love comes in all shapes and sizes, and friendship is one of its most beautiful isoforms.
Being alone is far from a curse, and even if you are at this very moment in time, it’s okay. Your worth isn’t defined by how many or how little people you’ve been in love with at any age, but especially now. In your twenties, you’re just about opening your eyes, experiencing new things, and most importantly, growing, becoming the best version of yourself. Humans are billions upon billions of atoms that miraculously come together to properly experience everything the Universe has to offer. Love is certainly one of those things, but depriving yourself of everything as you seek it is a common, foolish mistake.
If I could go back in time, I would allow myself to fully immerse myself in sixth form and my first year of university & fully take in everything they had to offer - I wouldn’t entirely shut out any romantic opportunity, but I also wouldn’t chase it or lose sleep over how everybody around me was wanted by someone. I’d bask in the newly-found freedom, deepening my knowledge in my studies and make even more memories with the friends for life that I made along the way. We’re all just new, lost souls trying to make sense of a world we’ve barely been in - expectations are normal and healthy, but not set in stone and definitely not worth any heartache they may bring. So, for the time being, I’m focusing on myself - meditating, eating good & most importantly, trying to keep my shit together. The dating apps and read messages are a thing of the past, and I’m finally coming to grips with being on my ones, and honestly loving it, though I would be lying if I said it was that easy everyday. But, for now, I’m doing okay, and will continue to do just fine with or without someone by my side. So will you.