I’ve been thinking a little about relationships off late. Halfway to twenty-eight now, and it is easy for every other conversation to arrive at the point of life-partners, relationships, marriage. Whether it’s at the dinner table, a casual conversation at the gym, an evening out with a bunch of old friends, or banter at work, everybody wants to steer the topic of talk to a man they think I may be interested in, or then where the mystery man is.
I have been single for a couple of years now. I’m not afraid to admit I spent the first one year focusing on thinking for one, from thinking for two. It was as liberating as it was conquering; I learned to pick out my fears little by little, and all alone. Much of the second year, I spent playing along to whoever came along, and futile attempts from friends to set me up. I was often tempted to throw in the reserves and add ‘X’ on Facebook even though he could barely spell amazing right. I was sometimes curious about Y whose name sounded like something to be afraid of. And, I nearly signed up on every single dating site out there…
…Yet somehow, still haven’t. I have cried, tossed and turned, yet surged on to believe love will find a way, and when life puts you to something, it is with reason.
I have looked long and hard at the relationships around me, and had the chance to mull over what I wanted. I started out wanting someone to live with, someone to spend a Friday evening with, someone to cook for. I ended up wanting someone to trek with, travel the world with, and meet each of my dreams with. In still dreaming, I learned I was possibly more foolish than what I had conjured myself up to be. In still hoping, I learned that in this too I was all alone. And, in still believing, I’m beginning to learn that everything has an expiry line.
Somewhere between my point and theirs, I wanted to put this down. It is possible to be happy alone and it is okay to keep dreaming 🙂