I’m admittedly a serial monogamist. When I get asked for a cozy movie night in, send texts to the same person all day, or get lost in thought about one person, my heart skips a beat.
Ever since I can remember, I’ve been the girl longing for a boyfriend. Since high school, I’ve been with someone at every moment: constantly posting with the same person, going out with the same person, on the phone with the same person. Whatever other cringe thing that people complain about couples doing, I embraced.
Even going into college, despite everyone warning against a relationship, my romantic heart had something different in mind, and I found myself quickly embraced in my happy bubble of monogamous stability and safety. Honestly, there was nothing wrong with it. I was happy, we were happy, and even though I missed out on a mixer here and there, being with one person who made me feel good made it seem like a reasonable sacrifice.
When I started finding myself unhappy, it was almost impossible to admit to myself why. Things happened and people changed, and before I realized it, I was single for the first time in over 6 years. I became the cliché of all clichéd brokenhearted women. My freezer has never seen so much ice cream, and my mom could not be happier when I stopped calling her five times a day just to have someone familiar to share my days with.
I did what every freshly single person does (and subsequently hates themselves for doing): I got on Tinder. I sat on my couch with a continuously refilled glass of wine, swiping through frat guys in Sperry’s, men with their dead fish proudly on display, and the occasional nude exhibitionist for an entire weekend before I realized that being single was actually pretty fun. I was swarmed with messages from an entire range of people; from the men who wanted to be my sugar daddy to those who sent “dtf?” as their very first message.
Tinder, as disgusting as it is, got me thinking. Here I was in an ocean of people, sought out and pursued, but I was able to decide what to do with that. It’s not often, especially in the world now, that a public platform allows us the opportunity to accept or deny what people are saying to us, but Tinder does it well (and with a small chance you might actually find someone decently engaging). It’s putting power in our hands, and being able to recognize that changed everything I had going on.
While I don’t know that I can embrace the highest levels of confidence yet, the fundamental idea that I am powerful rings true every time I walk by myself listening to music instead of posing on Snapchat for a man I don’t care for. There’s a lot of independence that comes with being single, and it’s independence we shouldn’t take for granted. As tempting as it is (especially with Valentine’s already on full display in every store) to get caught up in the whirlwind fantasies of idealized romance, forcing ourselves into a relationship that isn’t naturally fulfilling takes a part of whom we are at our core. You start to forget the littlest things you like about yourself to remember the things another person likes instead.
I am, as a single woman, doing things I like to do with the people I enjoy being around. I have been excited for new opportunities, I’ve taken control over my involvement on campus, I’ve eaten at the restaurants I want to eat at, and I smile more than ever. The independent and confident woman that sat so idly inside my shelled-self while I morphed around another person is so excited to be coming out and leading her own show.
As women, we’ve got more power in this world as individuals that we need to recognize on our own, without another person convincing us of something different. It’s easy to mold into someone different, but it’s braver and ultimately more liberating to embrace being alone if it means being ourselves.