Is a relationship our only reward?

How being coupled up has become the hallmark for success

Welcome to In Order to Bloom, a space where we’re unpacking the trials, tribulations and wins of being a twenty-something trying to adult. Be sure to comment and share if you love reading, it really helps a lot.

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In the words of our lord and Saviour Ru Paul, “If you can’t love yourself then how in the hell can you love somebody else?” - but I want to know, why is it that the carrot dangled to convince us we need to love ourselves more, is a relationship?

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How much self-focus does one need?

My friend Bex and I have unknowingly formed a tradition. Once every couple of months, one of us chooses a restaurant, we meet up after work and spend 4+ hours debriefing each other on our dating lives. Wine is always involved, on more than one occasion we’ve ended up having weird conversations with strangers, and in every instance, we end up drunk on the bus home gushing to one another over text about what a wonderful night we had.

The chat that bounces back and forth at our table isn’t for the faint of heart. We go into explicit, albeit probably inappropriate detail. We unpack texts, our recent dates, swipe through each other’s hinge matches and dip deliciously in and out of fits of laughter whilst raising a glass to the fact we’ve managed to maintain any stamina to continue putting ourselves out there.

One of these nights that happened a few months ago, which started with Thai food and ended at a bar in Soho, was gorgeous. We both had first dates scheduled for the following night, the sun had just started to set late and we were feeling optimistic and smug.

But then the fear set in. What if he’s just great over text? What if he doesn’t look like his pictures? What if he spends the whole date talking about his ex? These all add up to the overarching question of “What if he’s just like the others?”.

This is the question you’re not meant to say out loud. There’s little to no room for a timid nature when you’re dating because the streets will chew you up and spit you out with vigour and delight. Hope is hard to keep a grasp of when you, your friends, your colleagues, the girl who serves your coffee and the guy you follow on Twitter are all in the same simulation as you.

Going on dates full of hope, getting to know someone, then getting just excited enough to maybe tell your mum about them, only for them to turn around on date 5 (via text, of course) and say; “I just need to focus on myself before I get into a relationship”.

This is always a low blow to take. It’s always seemingly right at the point you’re ready to consider clearing some people off the bench, taking this person seriously or thinking further ahead than a week when they drop it in your lap that they aren’t considering you as someone to get serious with.

The worst, albeit well-meaning, response to this when you relay the story of how it broke down is this;

“The right one will come along when you least expect it and learn to love yourself more”

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Is self-love reserved for the single?

It’s as if other people see being single as the equivalent to damaged. Like you’re a yellow sticker item on the bottom shelf of the supermarket fridge, just waiting for the right person to come along and say “Yeah, guess that’ll do.” The notion that you need to try harder, do better, fix your issues and then the love of your life will appear is bullshit.

I’m not being funny, but some of the most deeply unhinged and desperately in need of therapy individuals I’ve met have also, somehow, been in a relationship (my past self included). They’ve managed, with all their shortcomings, to get someone to agree to sleep with them and only them for the foreseeable future, with absolutely 0 self-awareness or autonomy over their emotional well-being. So how the fuck is it that I’m the one being told that the reason I’m single is that I don’t love myself enough?

Granted, being single isn’t for everyone, and I’ve recently been told that in some respects I make it look like the pits. I admit that most of what I write about - especially here - is the ugly, sometimes despairing side of dating. The good experiences aren’t nonexistent, they just don’t get publicised for fear of tempting fate. But I do think that embracing the time you’re single in your adult life is so important and teaches you so much.

In my experience, you’ll naturally pour more love into yourself and everything you do. Sinking into selfishness is the greatest part of being on your own because it allows you to make independent decisions without worrying about how it might look or feel to a significant other. Taking time to hone in and focus on what you want to work on is invaluable and the best thing I’ve done in my twenties. I’d be an insufferably awful human being if I hadn’t had that time to just be alone, but I did not make that choice as a means to get ‘ready’ for a relationship.

I believe self-improvement is so important to mould yourself into a fulfilled, well-rounded, and kind adult. So why is it that our reward, our reason for making ourselves better individuals, boils down to finding a romantic partner? When did it become the be-all and end-all of accomplishment and the marker that you’ve done the work and are fulfilled and happy?

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Seek your peace, not your missing piece

Working on yourself doesn’t mean your end goal is falling in love. I didn’t endure years of therapy, nurture my friendships, take care of my health and pursue interests outside of men just to be the perfect partner for someone else. I do it to stay sane, happy and healthy. Because the longest relationship I’ll ever have to sustain and build upon is the one I have with myself.

Will Young recently noted in Jamie Laing’s latest podcast that as a single person, he simply doesn’t get invited to things. Dinner parties, holidays and events where the room is full of couples are no longer places where people ask him to join them, simply because he isn’t part of a duo. I have also experienced this - being left out of plans so I’m not a fifth, sixth or tenth wheel - and I can confirm the first few times, it stings.

The idea that you are sad, worse off or don’t want to do things just because you’re alone is the issue. But often when you’ve worn that single badge for so long, it’s as if it forms a part of your identity. Often I’ll be asked if I’m dating, and when it’s going badly it’s the last thing I want to talk about. But when it’s going well, it feels embarrassing to admit. It’s as if saying “Yeah actually I think this could be something” is like giving away a part of your single-person power. I don’t know why this is the case, but I know it’s not just me who feels this way.

There is a need, I feel, for single people to disengage with the idea that it’s shameful to admit that they do want to meet someone and fall in love. Because who doesn’t want to be adored? I may wax lyrical about the pits of dating hell in London, but I’ve gone through it because I want to find someone who doesn’t serve the purpose of filling up my cup to complete me but rather falls in love with the overflow of what I’ve already poured into it myself.

“Your person should not be someone who fills in a missing piece to your life puzzle. They should compliment the life you have already built, and add to your peace rather than be the remedy for it.” - my mum

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Thank you for reading In Order to Bloom. I hope it offers you some escape and peace of mind today.

I’d love to know what else you’d like to hear my thoughts on, or any topics you’d like me to unpack - be it dating, friendships or something in the news - so please get in touch with any suggestions by leaving a comment for me!