As a woman in my 30s, I have had no shortage of external pressure to “Settle down and find a husband,” and am frequently asked, “Why are you still single?” as if it is the most bizarre thing that I am not spending my days chasing a relationship or marriage.
A few weeks ago, I was hanging out with a 38-year-old guy friend in NYC. He was sharing how he’s been single for nearly a decade because he’s been focused on his career and simply did not feel the need to dedicate himself to a serious relationship because he was crushing it at work and just having a blast throughout his 30s.
This is a common refrain I hear from my ambitious male friends. At no point did they ever feel like they were doing something “wrong” by prioritizing themselves and their careers. No one ever asked them, “Why are you still single?” (at least not with the same air of pitying condescension that my female friends and I receive).
Male privilege is being able to make independent decisions from a young age and not be labeled as “selfish” or “rebellious.”
In contrast, I thought about the amount of shame and guilt I’ve been brainwashed to feel over the past few years, like there was something wrong with me because I wanted to prioritize my goals and my career instead of finding a man.
I thought about the number of inspiring, powerful women I have met over the last few years who, no matter how much they achieved, felt like there was something missing because a man had not chosen them.
I thought about the mediocre dates and subpar behavior I settled for because I allowed myself to succumb to the societal pressure to hurry up and get into a relationship because “all the good ones will be snatched up.”
So a couple of years ago, I made the conscious decision that I was done with this outdated shame-inducing narrative and I started focusing on the most important relationship in my life - the one with myself. I wanted to be able to wake up every morning and love the woman in the mirror rather than loathe her, to proudly celebrate myself without feeling “selfish,” and to stand unapologetically in my own power, never again allowing someone else’s insecurity or fear to control me.
In a world that feeds off your insecurity, loving yourself is an act of rebellion.
Self-love was not an easy journey, especially because I was trained to accept self-loathing and self-doubt as my defaults. However, I realized that looking for a certain kind of love from others, when only I could give it to myself was exactly why I was unhappy in the past.
Today I can say I am deeply in love with myself, (a sentiment I literally cringed at just a few years ago), and it is the kind of love that isn’t fake or fleeting, but rather one that grows deeper and stronger every day. What’s incredible is that when I’m grounded in my own self-love, it becomes quickly apparent when someone else is not.
Controlling, inconsistent, negative energy? Thank u, next.
So my intention now is to be open to love — which means exactly that. To be open. To be loving. To be present. But to always remember that the best and brightest version of me is already here and my value has nothing to do with the external norms and judgments that have always sought to make women feel inferior.
Now when people ask me, “Why are you still single?” I find it amusing. Internally, I acknowledge that they are still stuck in the outdated narrative of a woman’s worth being defined by a man, and I kindly respond, “There are many things more interesting about me than my relationship status, what else would you like to know?”
Sending love and strength,
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