Independence is Overrated

You can’t even call me a Childless Cat Lady. I haven't rescued any stray kittens, let alone birthed a child. But plants are the new pets, and pets are the new kids, right? Call me a Childless Plant Lady. My living room is home to a leafy Monstera and a lush Pothos, both of which thrive when I forget to water them.  

I didn’t think I’d find myself at 31, living alone, on an indefinite career sabbatical, and…Dare I even say it? Still single. 

This wasn’t the plan. My vision for life beyond 30 included yearly trips to exotic destinations with a husband. Exploring the colorful streets of Colombia and a spontaneous ski trip to Japan with my girlfriends was a delight this past year, but I wouldn’t mind planning a romantic getaway for two. Paris is tried and true. Or maybe the secluded, salty cerulean blue beaches of a Greek island. At the same time, the thought of one more “So tell me more about you,” as the salt slowly melts down the side of my margarita and forms a puddle on a dusty picnic table at another trendy East Austin patio bar sounds less appealing than sorting dirty laundry. 

If dating was a numbers game, I would’ve been married three times by now. You can say all the right words and believe that good things are worth waiting for— but sometimes this mystical committed relationship with a forever lover seems like a far-away fairytale. I’m learning to embrace the duality of contentment and desire and continue to trust that everything happens in its own time. Easy, right? 

Before you start to think this is another story of a privileged white woman whose daddy issues are driving her to book a one-way flight to Bali to find herself at an Ayahuasca retreat, I should let you know I’m not crying myself to sleep with a bottle of Cabernet and a box of chocolates every night. I’m not here with a feminist’s manifesto or to bemoan the state of men and dating, either. Life is good, but despite deep relationships with friends and family, I’m ready to share it with a partner.

Women need good men in their lives, as partners and as friends. Marriage specifically is one of the most-studied social bonds. Couples in healthy marriages tend to have better physical and emotional health, and increased longevity compared to unmarried people. You can go fast alone, but further together— the old proverb reminds us. 

So what’s an action-oriented, type-A girl to do as she downloads Hinge again and patiently trusts the desires of her heart were not placed there in vain? 

When you’re single, everyone insists it’s the perfect time to focus on yourself. Build your brand! Prioritize your needs! Become the best version of you! Married friends sigh wistfully at parties and offer wilting advice: 

“Just be yourself and stop looking…You’ll find someone when you least expect it. Yeah, we did meet in college…”

“Have you tried a run club?!” 

“Have you met [insert the name of the only single person they know]? He has a job, I think you would like each other…”  

“Chad and I barely even have sex anymore. I wish I had the time for myself that you do.”

Is the alternative to an endless stream of first dates with Peter Pan a future with Chad, whose testosterone has dropped to arctic levels because he’s been watching porn instead of his waistline?   

Being alone seems easy. You can live in a curated studio with a houseplant, talk to your therapist over Zoom about your deepest feelings, and order the best meals delivered to your doorstep. Life has so little friction now that we don’t need each other. 

Yet, we do need each other. So badly. 

No one will argue that loneliness is good for us, but did you know that lack of social connection can increase the risk of premature death as much as smoking 15 cigarettes a day? A 2022 study found that only 39% of adults in the U.S. felt strong connections with others, and it’s predicted that 45% of women ages 25–44 will be single by 2030.

The problem with the modern narrative for individual fulfillment and purpose– for those in a relationship or not– is that it focuses too much on the self. 

Many of us find ourselves at the tippy top of our hierarchy of needs, stuck in an endless loop of self-actualization. You must care for yourself, but when the self becomes the ultimate priority, you miss out on the deep joy found in loving and serving others. 

Love shows up in sneaky ways. It doesn’t have to be a grand gesture, and it doesn’t run out. So often we reserve our small, thoughtful acts of service for a romantic partner— when we could show up for our friends and family in ways that make them feel seen and cared for. 

Driving out to middle-of-nowhere Texas with my friend Chris last weekend, I was determined to enjoy myself. Feeling stretched thin and unusually stressed, I wasn’t ready for a weekend away– let alone the 100-kilometer desert bike race waiting for us in Marfa. 

Not even 60 minutes into the 7-hour drive, I felt my fingers tighten unexpectedly on the shaking steering wheel. This wasn’t just the feeling of a washboard highway underneath my muddy Jeep Wrangler. I tapped the brakes. The shaking eased, and I let out a tense breath. Moments later, we skimmed over a bump in the cracked desert highway. Another tremor shook the steering wheel. Shit. 

My heart rate rising and head starting to ache, we pulled into a windswept Chevron to evaluate the situation. As I walked out of the restroom, Chris was waiting for me, holding a tall Diet Coke. 

“Do you want me to drive? I think we’ll be okay until Marfa.” 

A few Reddit threads and precarious looks into the underbody of the car later, we continued on. “I packed us sandwiches, they are in the cooler,” Chris offered. “And I didn’t know what snacks you’d like, so we’ve got options! Savory or sweet?”

My feet perched on the dashboard, the headache started to fade after a few sips of Coke. 

It’s the little things. Remembering your friend’s guilty pleasure beverage. Sending a quick text to make sure someone got home safely. Offering a helping hand with a move. Telling your friends you love them. 

Solid foundations of love and joy are built with little bricks of kindness. 

Regardless of your relationship status, we need interdependent connections with others—knowing when to give 90% when someone is struggling to show up with ten, and learning to communicate when you are at 10% and let someone fill you up. You can’t dump all your emotional needs onto another person, or expect to shoulder the weight of your life in solitude.

Can friendships replace the desire for a partner? Not in my experience. But marriage licenses don’t come with a cheat code for learning how to love, either. There isn’t an end-all-be-all relationship that’s going to fix your past trauma, magically cure your avoidant attachment style, or get you to stop wearing Crocs. Learning how to give love—and let yourself be loved—will set you up for success no matter what your path in life. There is endless joy in a life that is shared with others.