Lazy Julie‘So, you’ve got a rendez-vous!’ my friends grinned at me.
‘Oh no, I didn’t mean ‘rendez-vous’ as in a ‘date.’ I meant it as an ‘appointment,’ I clarified. Damn it, French – my life was already full of misunderstandings. My friends seemed disappointed.
‘Why don’t you date?’
‘Do I have to?’
‘Why, do you have someone already?’
‘I don’t, no. I just don’t want to.’
I laughed it off. It wasn’t offensive; I guess this part of my life does raise questions.
I’m single by conscious choice – not due to circumstances.
The Why Behind My Choice
As a teenager, I was terrified of being alone – and dying alone. There was relentless pressure to couple up, to find your ‘other half,’ to be with someone, even if that someone wasn’t particularly attractive, interesting, or suitable.
I dated different people back then and don’t regret any of my choices. But I now realise that some of those relationships existed just for the sake of being in a relationship, mixed in with the ‘true love’ ones.
Have you ever wondered if you’re living for your own desires or someone else’s expectations? Peer pressure crawled into every corner of my life, dating included. Relationship status seemed to define you, just like love did. But I didn’t recognise it until years later, as is often the case. In college, I decided to focus solely on what brought me joy: studies, friends, community work, activism, and hobbies. It was liberating.
That’s what single-hood represents to me: freedom from societal expectations, time and space for self-discovery, and breaking cycles. Being alone wasn’t scary anymore, it was exciting.
I also began to understand that my time and energy were far more precious than I’d ever realised. I wanted to invest them in things that truly mattered. I didn’t want to settle for someone who didn’t love me fully or didn’t make me feel deeply. So, I stopped dating for good. I also never used dating apps or platforms (perhaps I’m a bit old-fashioned). Here’s a thought on not settling from this article that I can fully agree with:
Once you love your own company and get to know yourself better, you’ll be able to see more clearly what you want in someone else (that includes friends) and the things you don’t
The Hard Part
It would be a lie to say I haven’t experienced moments of loneliness. During particularly challenging depressive episodes, my mind would play cruel tricks on me, whispering that I wasn’t worthy of anyone’s attention. I’d spiral into thoughts that there was something inherently wrong with me and that single-hood wasn’t my choice but a necessity.
From the outside, people assumed I was being ‘picky’ or arrogant – attracting people only to reject them, not letting anyone get close. But that wasn’t it at all. I just didn’t get the hype around dating. It could never be a ‘casual’ thing for me, something to do just to pass time.
There were also systemic barriers. For instance, it’s much easier to emigrate, complete paperwork, or rent an apartment with a partner. But those challenges didn’t shake my principles. Instead, they strengthened them. I thought, If I stayed true to myself despite these obstacles, this really was my genuine choice.
I just needed to be more confident.
The Joy
My choice to remain single might feel unconventional to some, but it’s part of a broader cultural shift. In fact, single-hood is on the rise globally. According to the Pew Research Center, more than half of adults in the U.S. are single, with significant growth in never-married individuals. Eurostat data highlights that single-adult households have become more prevalent in various European regions, reflecting changing societal norms and greater economic independence among individuals, including women. Books like All the Single Ladies by Rebecca Traister and movements like #SingleAndHappy show how this shift is redefining what it means to live a fulfilled life. Single-hood is no longer simply a stopgap or a failure; it’s a deliberate and empowering choice.
If I had to describe singlehood in one word, it would be grateful. I’m immensely grateful for all the time I’ve had to pursue a million hobbies, from painting to running. For the time I could visit beautiful places alone – museums, cities, even countries. I’ve also managed to build beautiful and deep friendships, and, most importantly, focus on self-care and personal growth.
I don’t believe people must go through therapy to date, nor do I think anyone should have to ‘perfect’ themselves before entering a relationship. But in my case, therapy was essential. It allowed me to avoid projecting unresolved issues onto a potential partner. I also realised I had neither the time nor the energy to give a partner the care they deserved.
My biggest achievement has been learning to enjoy my own company and stop running away from myself, trying to fill an inner void with other people or addictions.
Intersections
I’m a white bisexual cis woman from Eastern Europe – not the most oppressed group out there. Plus, I’m relatively ‘young’, 25 years old (don’t say it to my peers back home, though) and at this age it’s not that outstanding to be single. I do not receive the ‘you’re so brave’ remarks or ‘don’t worry, someone will come around eventually!’ looks – the ones the main characters of ‘The Sex And The City’ complained about in their 30s.
The only ‘troubles’ I’ve faced as a single person have been surprised looks and occasional intrusive questions:
‘How come you’re single? Don’t you have someone?’
‘Oh, but you’re beautiful – it’s not possible!’
What truly bothered me in the beginning of my journey was the lack of representation in public discourse. There’s plenty of content about happy relationships, the dating landscape, or being unhappily single. But single and content? Almost never.
Most people I knew were either actively dating or in relationships. Even though my friends never judged my choice, I couldn’t fully talk to them about my position or seek their understanding.
In the region I come from, being single by choice is almost unheard of. People stick together, form couples, marry, and live their version of ‘happily ever after.’
If you’re single, it’s assumed you couldn’t ‘make it’ or that you’re trying but failing. Happily ever after, solo, simply doesn’t exist in that world.
Sometimes, I’d receive pity or tactless comments like, ‘Oh, but maybe your standards are unrealistic? You’ll end up alone forever!’ As if that were a bad thing.
Lessons Learned
Here’s what I’ve learned from years of single-hood:
- Single-hood by choice is not loneliness but liberation. Learn to be on your own, learn to enjoy your company, learn to do things alone.
- Your worth isn’t tied to your relationship status. Even if society tells you the opposite.
- Self-love is foundational for any kind of happiness. Self-respect, too.
Whether single, coupled, or somewhere in between, we all deserve to live authentically, free from expectations that don’t serve us. So here’s to making choices that honour who we truly are – whatever they may look like.
So, do I have to date? No, I don’t. And as I’ve learned over the years, I don’t need to answer that question for anyone but myself. If you’re currently feeling trapped in prejudices surrounding one’s relationship status, I want to tell you that being single isn’t a waiting room for the ‘real’ life ahead – it’s a destination in its own right, one worth celebrating. Happily ever after, solo, is not just possible, it’s beautiful.
Further reading recommendations:
- Single, but Not That Keen to Mingle by Gaby Ravet
- Real Love, Baby: The Contradictory Pressures of Modern Love by Lazy Women editor-in-chief Zsofi
Written by Julie Antropova.
Julie Antropova is a linguist, human rights advocate, and journalist based in Paris. Originally from Russia, she reflects on her Eastern European background in her writing. In her free time, she loves reading and discussing books, visiting art exhibitions, and learning foreign languages.
Illustrated by Fdor.