How do you hold on to hope?
After so many years, I realised that "The One" is me
I posted a Q&A on my Instagram stories with the same fear that I often have about posting that silly little question box. What if nobody is interested? The same fear I have when I am met with the stark white page of a new Word document. The vastness of it with no real promise that anything will come forth.
A question came through and I felt like I only did it so much justice within the confines of a 9:16 aspect ratio.
“How are you not jaded/still believe in love? I’m 32 and I’m tired of dating.”
Truthfully, I am jaded. I am so tired.
I’m emotionally and mentally drained.
I told my therapist that I felt like my biggest fear was coming true. I was becoming more closed off to the idea of finding a partner, that I could feel myself hardening. To the very same person who had convinced me that my being soft was a strength, and despite knowing there is truth in that, I can feel myself becoming bitter and wanting to shut down, pull away. It shouldn’t be this hard, I keep telling myself.
Hopelessness is a painful feeling. Longing, loneliness, it’s a painful feeling. And it’s extremely human. It’s why we connect, it’s why we have community, it’s why we have partnership.
But I’m finally understanding how feeling that hopelessness, that pain, is simply part of life. Those feelings may never go away, even in a relationship. But it doesn’t mean that there is anything wrong with me, or my life.
Like most people of a certain age and demographic, I’m privileged enough to be able to satisfy pretty much any want or need I might have. I don’t want the “discomfort” of having to cook a meal, I’ll just order it in. I’m bored of my own thoughts, I’ll put something on Netflix. If I want to date someone, I’ll open up Bumble. I want something new to wear, I’ll order it online. The hits of dopamine can often overflow!
I want to stress again how I don’t want to be dismissive of the feelings of hopelessness and loneliness that bubble up when you don’t have a partner.
For the countless number of single women I know who, like me, are fiercely independent, who are running their own businesses, who are bosses and managers, some are mothers, the exhaustion levels of just being one woman juggling multiple job titles and making other peoples’ lives easier is a one-way ticket to a breakdown.
We just want someone to help alleviate some of that brain space. And at the same time, we want intimacy like everyone else. We just want to be wanted. As much as our feelings of loneliness are valid, so is our sexuality and our pleasure.
To the second part of the question, how do you still believe in love?
Unfortunately the answer to that has always been easy. I’ve always been this way ever since I can remember. I am very blessed to come from a family that has always loved me deeply. My parents have been there for me and supported everything I do, even when they don’t necessarily agree with it right away.
They encourage me to put myself out there and chase my dreams, but ultimately put myself first above all else, including themselves. The love I receive from my parents made me the person I am today. It made me choose the best friendships over the years with people who are there for me no matter what, whether we live 10 minutes away from each other or 10 hours.
Those people are the physical embodiment of that love. And I’m lucky enough to be on the receiving end of it.
Familial love and platonic love aren’t the same as romantic love, of course. I wouldn’t by any means say that they’re comparable, but they are just as fulfilling.
There is a real power in choosing the things that make you happy and that fill your cup, and when the pursuit of a relationship becomes all too much, it’s okay to put it down and refocus that energy on yourself.
I’ve also visualised what my life looks like without a partner. Despite being married once before, it becomes very easy to think about all of the things I will do with this imaginary person that I have yet to meet. Things that “feel” like relationship things and saving those things for best - trips, restaurants, my home…
But what would I do if that person never comes?
My best friend is the person who encourages me the most to understand what my life would look like if I didn’t have a partner in the end.
What if I die alone, I’ll tearfully (and half-jokingly) say to her. And despite her promise to be by my side, she reminds me that there might not ever be anyone else, but there’s always me. I’ve been the person to get me up and to this point. I’ve got me.
My Tita Chel passed away three years ago, and for 33 years I never saw her with a man. She was single for my entire life up until the day she died, and it honestly never crossed my mind. Even as my family took up in her two bedroom condo, flying in from all over the country as she was on her deathbed I never thought about the fact that she didn’t have a partner.
The following year, I asked my mom and my Tita Fins if Tita Chel ever had anyone. Did she fall in love with anyone? Did anyone ever fall in love with her? There were men who were in and out of her life, but no one worth mentioning. She was lonely, Tita Fins said, but she had us.
She had them, and she had me. The loves of her life were there in her bedroom with her when she died. None of that looked like or felt like a punishment.
Relationships often look like a reward for being a good, beautiful person.
Things that come to you when you’ve evolved into the best possible version of yourself. If you just lose a bit of weight, or say the right things, or wear different clothing, or market yourself in just the right way.
You haven’t tried hard enough, you’re not putting yourself out there, or worse, accepting whatever comes your way for the sake of not being alone.
To the point that when you don’t have that reward, it feels punitive.
At the end of the day, my hope comes from a lack of certainty. I quite literally cannot predict what is going to happen to me in my life and who I’m going to encounter. And life is very long, until it isn’t.
That’s what encourages me to keep going, to keep accessing all of the different types of love that exist for the one thing that I am 100% certain of – me.
About me: I'm Nicole, the writer of A Crumb of Romance. I’m the co-author of The Half of It: Exploring the Mixed-Race Experience, a content creator and the co-host of the award-winning Mixed Up podcast. Having been chronically online since the age of 13, you can also find me on Instagram, TikTok, Twitter and Pinterest.