I stopped dating this summer. Not because I suddenly decided I hated relationships. Not because I became one of those people who swear they “don’t need anybody.” And definitely not because I stopped believing in love.
I stopped dating because, after getting out of a toxic relationship toward the mid-end of my spring semester, I realized I needed to get back to experiencing what my life felt like when there wasn’t another person constantly attached to it.
One night after the breakup,I was sitting with my journal, trying to make sense of everything that had happened over the past few months, and it clicked. I remember writing about how exhausted I felt. Not just from the relationship itself, but from constantly thinking about another person. Thinking about how they felt. What they needed. What I had done wrong. Whether I was enough. Whether things were going to get better. Whether I should stay or leave.
As I wrote, I started realizing how little space there had been for me in all of that. I kept coming back to the same thought: I don’t want to spend another summer worrying about somebody else.
I wanted to know what my life felt like when I wasn’t constantly attached to someone else’s emotions. I wanted to make plans without considering another person first. I wanted to wake up and think about what I wanted to do that day. And somewhere in the middle of writing it all down, I realized I didn’t need another relationship to figure myself out. I needed to be alone. Not forever. Not because I had given up on love. Just long enough to hear myself again.
My very single summer has been one of the quietest, easiest, and most freeing seasons of my life.
For the first time in a while, there was no one I needed to check on. No conversation I needed to have. No argument I needed to replay in my head. No text message I was waiting for. No wondering where someone was, what they were doing, or whether I had done something wrong. I just sat there and realized how tired I was: tired of constantly thinking about another person. Tired of trying to understand someone else’s feelings while trying to manage my own. Tired of wondering where I stood. Tired of feeling like peace was something I had to negotiate for.
I remember thinking, I don’t want to do this again. Maybe that sounds dramatic, but it wasn’t really about never dating again. I still wanted love. I still wanted companionship. I still wanted to fall in love someday. I just didn’t want another person to become the center of my life before I had the chance to make myself the center of it again.
So, I gave myself a dating detox. No talking stages. No situationships. No entertaining someone because I was bored or just because I wanted attention. No trying to figure out if someone liked me, where we stood, or what they were doing. Just me. And honestly? My very single summer has been one of the quietest, easiest, and most freeing seasons of my life.
At first, I didn’t know what to do with all the space. When you’re used to being in a relationship, so much of your day naturally becomes about another person. You wake up wondering what they’re doing. You think about whether they’re OK. You consider what they want for dinner, even if you’re not making it for them anymore. You wonder if they’re going to call. You worry about whether they’re talking to somebody else. You make plans around them. You ask yourself if they’re ready to leave before asking yourself if you’re ready to leave.
I remember one day this summer when I was getting dressed and realized how important being alone really was. I had nowhere I needed to be and no one I needed to report to. I could change my plans. I could stay in. I could put on whatever music I wanted. I could eat whatever I wanted. I could spend the entire day doing absolutely nothing. And nobody was going to be disappointed in me for it.
For once, I’m not rushing to fill the empty space. I’m letting it be empty. I’m learning what my own company feels like.
I’m not constantly wondering if I’m enough for someone else. I’m not spending hours overthinking something that probably wasn’t that serious to begin with. I’m not second-guessing myself just to keep someone else happy. I’m not constantly worrying about whether someone else is upset with me.
But I also learned that being alone isn’t always easy. Sure, I have friends. I have family. I have people who love me and people I can call. My life isn’t empty just because I don’t have a partner — but there is a difference between having people and having your person. There is something about companionship that friendship doesn’t completely replace. Sometimes you want someone to roll over to. Someone to tell the stupid little story that happened during your day. Someone to sit beside you while you’re doing absolutely nothing. Someone who knows you in a way that feels uniquely intimate. And sometimes, I miss that.
Being single isn’t about convincing yourself that you don’t need anyone. It’s about realizing that needing companionship doesn’t mean you need to abandon yourself to have it. For once, I’m not rushing to fill the empty space. I’m letting it be empty. I’m learning what my own company feels like. I’m learning that peace can feel unfamiliar after chaos. I’m learning that freedom can feel lonely before it feels liberating. And maybe most importantly, I’m learning that I don’t have to immediately replace one person with another just because being alone feels uncomfortable.
This summer, I stopped dating. And somewhere between the quiet mornings, the random plans, the music I forgot I loved, and the nights spent completely by myself, I started feeling like myself again. And that’s what I needed all along.