Does this mean I’ve given up? Will I die alone? Do I care?
I’m a relationships type of gal; always have been, really. I like being in them, I like having someone to come home to and I like knowing that I’m working towards the dream of one day having kids and being a happy (or at least semi-functioning) family. Or at least I did like it.
Don’t get me wrong, I still want to be in one eventually, and have a family and all that, but right now I am happy being single, and that scares the shit out of me.
“But Liz, you idiot,” I hear you saying. “Why on earth are you scared of being happy? That’s dumb. Happiness is the goal! Stop being dumb, you derp!” Yes, yes I know this. If I’m happy, why am I not just chilling out and enjoying life? Because, dear readers, I have a fucking irritating case of FOMO.
You see, if I were in my 20s, I would be kicking up my heels, going out to bars, kissing strangers (not creepy ones), doing whatever the hell I wanted and feeling magnificent about it. So what bloody difference does a measly few years make?
It makes all the difference.
Because instead of enjoying my freedom, there’s that niggling little feeling that I want kids and a partner and I am running out of time. Which pisses me off because after 15 years of coupledom and heartbreak, I just want to be single for a while. My biological clock is way out of sync with my life timeline and it’s threatening to give me a wakeup call I don’t want right now.
When everyone else was sowing their wild oats, I was practically an old married couple all through my 20s. I never got those wild and carefree days when you didn’t have any pressure to settle down and have all the babies because youth. Instead, I was trying to race to the imaginary “finish line” and do it all early. Which worked out so well for me, leaving me cheated on, single in my 30s and needing to take some time to figure out who I was alone.
So for the past 18 months I’ve been on dates, slept with people, and worked on myself. For my myself. And the work has been bloody hard but I am finally at a point where I am happy with my own company. I bloody love it, to the point where I will willingly travel overseas solo to wine and dine myself on a romantic trip for one. Paris in the fall for a romantic stroll along the Seine and spot of Brie? Oui! London in the winter for a show on the West End? Blimey, alright! I don’t have anyone to answer to, I adore my own company and I’m finally being treated the way I deserve to be treated. Fuck, I’m a good girlfriend!
Which is all well and good except for the idea that if I don’t hurry the fuck up and start looking for a partner, my ovaries might shrivel and die and I may never get the kids I want so badly.
Everytime I think, “This whole not having to date thing is pretty brilliant,” or “You know what I love? Coming home to no demands from anyone!” there’s that twinge in the back of my brain that goes, “But you still want kids, right? Can you afford this solo time?”
I start to feel guilty for spending time on myself. I feel guilty for the self care I give myself. I feel guilty for preferring Netflix and No Chill in my PJs over meeting new people in a bar. I feel like all the things I love about being single are me wasting time.
So then I question if I want kids (I really do). And then I question if I want a relationship (I think “Not right now but definitely yes.”) But there doesn’t seem to be any place at this point in my life where I can exist and have all three simultaneously.
If I am happy being single, then I’m not looking for a partner and that means I am running out of time for a baby. If I am looking for a partner, I am putting myself through the skin-prickling agony that is modern dating and I’m not happy in my day-to-day life. But stopping dating feels like I’ve given up and then the heartbreak of maybe not having kids sets in.
Most of the time I feel super content with my single status but I keep catching sneaky peeks at my friends smooching in their couples and get a tiny bit jealous. It doesn’t last for long, and it’s usually only during big life moments but it’s there.
But that’s not what Current Liz wants. Current Liz wants to do what she wants to do, not have to think about dating, and focus on herself and strengthening the other relationships in her life. But Future Liz is a demanding bitch, and she tells me I need to keep working, pushing to reach my end goals.
So the fact that I could not be dating for five years and be totally, blissfully happy scares the shit out of me. Because what may I have given up for that self-time? Could I be sacrificing my chance for family because I want more time for me now?
Can someone just tell me how it ends already?
Comment: Do you love your single life or hate it? Why?