I’ve only just entered my 20s. And my mother has begun to worry.
In the past few years, her question about whether I am seeing anyone has popped up more often. My constant disinterest in answering her, I imagine, is compounding her worry.
“I want you to find a partner. I want you to be happy,” she has said (many times).
While I wholeheartedly agree – I want to be happy, too – the gap between “finding a partner” and “being happy” has been widening.
I grew up on fairy tales like Swan Lake and Disney Princess stories filled with grandiose declarations of love. I used to imagine my love life as gilded in gold, brimming with hope and flush with the certainty of happiness.
I thought that life would be meaningful only in the presence of romantic love.
With my head stuck in the clouds, I was painfully bruised by reality: A real-life relationship that demanded much more of me than I’d imagined, and consumed me.
I unthinkingly entered a relationship in my teens, despite the fact that I was still figuring out who I was. Before I knew it, I was rearranging my life to revolve around a single person.
When would he reply to my messages? What should we do next? Why was he taking so long? My day only got better when he replied.
My emotions were tethered to someone else’s actions. His validation was all I could think about. That dependence deepened the loneliness I was sinking into.
Maybe I was stupid, or maybe I was just young. But I placed my self-worth in unsustainable places – other people’s validation, my own physical appearance. I placed value in how I was received by others, when I should have been rooted in who I am.
When she was in a relationship in her teens, the writer says she allowed her life to revolve around her boyfriend. (Photo: iStock/chingyunsong)
Embarrassingly, I realised this pretty late – long after the relationship ended, when I was on a university exchange programme two years ago in Madrid, Spain.
It came to me as I meandered through the narrow cobblestone streets between cracked terracotta walls singed by the setting sun, lively Spanish music and languid conversations spilling out of cafes.
Like a switch being flipped, I realised then: You are the only person you will be with for the rest of your life. So before even beginning to know someone else, you should get to know yourself first.
That had to start with finding out what made me happy. I picked up hobbies like crocheting, and realised I enjoyed exploring new cities and immersing myself in nature.
Taking advantage of my location, I traversed Europe with my friends, albeit at the expense of my wallet. I got swept along with the crowds of central London, splashed around the clear blue waters of Mallorca, Spain, and skied on fresh powdered snow in the French Alps.
I found happiness in giving attention to the people I loved, and the things I enjoyed doing.
And so, looking for love took a backseat and the yearning to be loved lost its hold on me.
I became someone else entirely. I started falling in love with life instead, and everything it had to offer – building new routines, picking up new interests and making time for the people who mattered.
The world expanded and I stopped feeling afraid of being alone.
When she started falling in love with life, the writer stopped yearning to be loved. (Photo: iStock/Jacob Wackerhausen)
I am now in my final semester of university, wrapping up my final-year project, completing my last few classes, thinking about job applications and excited about potential graduation trips.
While my weekdays are filled with school work, my weekends are never properly scheduled. This year, I have been learning tennis from one friend, cycled along East Coast Park at sunset with another, explored study spots hidden in the cafes around the city, and enjoyed many evenings around the mahjong table.
Occasionally, my father lets me tag along on one of his favourite pastimes – eating good local food. I think our next stop is laksa at Sungei Road (he is quite fond of their traditional charcoal fire).
For Valentine’s Day, I will be surrounded by the scent of flowers – a friend and I are planning to spend the day helping a local florist arrange bouquets for the day of love.
I’ve heard some people say that being single is dull, or that you “need” a boyfriend to do all these activities with.
But I disagree. I enjoy both the activities and the people I do them with. I don’t yearn for “someone special” to live my life with.
I don’t see these pursuits as distractions either, but as a way to further discover who I am and what I enjoy.To me, there is no rush to anchor myself and settle down when it seems like life is only just beginning.
Being single and spending time learning about myself has given me space for reflection and growth. Along the way, I’ve come to three realisations:
The writer will be spending Valentine’s Day helping a florist arrange flower bouquets. (Photo: iStock/suney munintrangkul)
I remember vividly seeing the saying “get a life, not a man” all over social media years ago and not quite understanding its meaning. But I now realise, as I stumble into adulthood, it has slowly become my dating philosophy.
Of course, almost everyone yearns for companionship. I know I do. But looking at the Singapore dating scene now, perhaps it is a desire better placed on the backburner.
What unsettles me about modern love is not the dating apps themselves, but rather how we compress ourselves into our most attractive and palatable qualities to be perfectly perceived.
Many of my friends are on dating apps. One friend shared that the conversations often play out simultaneously among multiple online matches.
“What do you study? What are your hobbies? Do you have siblings? All the questions are the same,” she said. It’s monotonous and tiring. In the end, they all blur together to morph into one indiscernible blob.
Unless a relationship blooms, I don’t see the payoff matching the effort of getting to know people and revealing my vulnerabilities.
Forming new connections is wonderful. But to do so in succession, and engaging multiple candidates at once? It seems fatiguing to me.
The sacredness of building a new relationship is becoming lost in our digitally integrated world. Almost everyone has a digital trail. Intentionally or not, our online profiles are a window into our lives.
We are constantly peering into other people’s relationships and vice versa. Through likes, comments, or direct conversations, we welcome their personal views and opinions about our private relationships.
It’s hard to build a relationship when everything you do as a couple is open to comments and likes on social media. (Photo: iStock/Jacob Wackerhausen)
A girlfriend told me about her new resolution a few weeks back: silent dating.
Instead of updating her circle of friends routinely about her latest romantic endeavours, she has decided to date quietly. She doesn’t want their stereotypes about what a relationship should look like to shape how she feels.
She gave an example: “If a guy doesn’t pay for the first date, I don’t think it’s a red flag. But some people do.”
And when multiple voices say “yes, yes, yes – it’s a red flag, you should drop him”, like herd mentality, you too, may start to feel the same way because of these opinions, she added.
“You might break off something that was actually perfect for you.”
Strikingly, another close friend of mine, who has been in an almost decade-long relationship, told me that the privacy of his relationship is something he reveres.
He noticed how some people tended to overshare, inviting others to cast judgement on a private relationship. So a small hiccup may be blown out of proportion because of constant reinforcement from external parties who have only a superficial understanding of the situation.
“We’ll just settle it between ourselves,” he said, as a finality.
While it may be presumptuous of me to come to such conclusions without much dating experience, my friends’ experiences only cement my belief that it is not my time to search for love yet.
On most days, my philosophy of “getting a life first” proudly stands. But every now and then, a particularly hard day comes along – the kind where you just want someone to understand you, without question.
On nights like these, the age-old question comes up: Will I be alone forever?
The writer says she will be confident enough to brave the dating world once she’s confident that she won’t lose herself after she welcomes someone into her life. (Photo: iStock/simon2579)
When the image of living out my days alone – till my hair turns grey and my skin creases with wrinkles – feels more tangible than the idea that someone might be there with me, it is frightening.
There is nothing wrong with growing old alone but it is rarely what we grew up picturing.
I also wonder if “to be loved and desired” is too ambitious a hope to have. To have a steadfast confidant – and to be one in return – is something I find achingly beautiful. To imagine a distant future without that kind of closeness can feel a little alarming.
Yet every one of these overly dramatic spirals eventually ends in a new day. The sun rises and I am reminded of everything I have to appreciate.
Perhaps I’ll consider braving the dating world once I feel confident enough to welcome someone into my life without losing myself.
Many of my friends have told me that they found stability in their relationships after becoming emotionally secure themselves – we often attract who we are.
To crave connection is to be human, wired into our very core. But for now I am not afraid, nor am I governed by the insatiable need to be loved.
Love can come later, but my life is already here, ready to be lived.
CNA Women is a section on CNA Lifestyle that seeks to inform, empower and inspire the modern woman. If you have women-related news, issues and ideas to share with us, email CNAWomen [at] mediacorp.com.sg.
Continue reading...
In the past few years, her question about whether I am seeing anyone has popped up more often. My constant disinterest in answering her, I imagine, is compounding her worry.
“I want you to find a partner. I want you to be happy,” she has said (many times).
While I wholeheartedly agree – I want to be happy, too – the gap between “finding a partner” and “being happy” has been widening.
I grew up on fairy tales like Swan Lake and Disney Princess stories filled with grandiose declarations of love. I used to imagine my love life as gilded in gold, brimming with hope and flush with the certainty of happiness.
I thought that life would be meaningful only in the presence of romantic love.
With my head stuck in the clouds, I was painfully bruised by reality: A real-life relationship that demanded much more of me than I’d imagined, and consumed me.
I unthinkingly entered a relationship in my teens, despite the fact that I was still figuring out who I was. Before I knew it, I was rearranging my life to revolve around a single person.
When would he reply to my messages? What should we do next? Why was he taking so long? My day only got better when he replied.
My emotions were tethered to someone else’s actions. His validation was all I could think about. That dependence deepened the loneliness I was sinking into.
Maybe I was stupid, or maybe I was just young. But I placed my self-worth in unsustainable places – other people’s validation, my own physical appearance. I placed value in how I was received by others, when I should have been rooted in who I am.
When she was in a relationship in her teens, the writer says she allowed her life to revolve around her boyfriend. (Photo: iStock/chingyunsong)
Embarrassingly, I realised this pretty late – long after the relationship ended, when I was on a university exchange programme two years ago in Madrid, Spain.
It came to me as I meandered through the narrow cobblestone streets between cracked terracotta walls singed by the setting sun, lively Spanish music and languid conversations spilling out of cafes.
Like a switch being flipped, I realised then: You are the only person you will be with for the rest of your life. So before even beginning to know someone else, you should get to know yourself first.
RECALIBRATING MY LIFE
That had to start with finding out what made me happy. I picked up hobbies like crocheting, and realised I enjoyed exploring new cities and immersing myself in nature.
Taking advantage of my location, I traversed Europe with my friends, albeit at the expense of my wallet. I got swept along with the crowds of central London, splashed around the clear blue waters of Mallorca, Spain, and skied on fresh powdered snow in the French Alps.
I found happiness in giving attention to the people I loved, and the things I enjoyed doing.
And so, looking for love took a backseat and the yearning to be loved lost its hold on me.
I became someone else entirely. I started falling in love with life instead, and everything it had to offer – building new routines, picking up new interests and making time for the people who mattered.
The world expanded and I stopped feeling afraid of being alone.
When she started falling in love with life, the writer stopped yearning to be loved. (Photo: iStock/Jacob Wackerhausen)
I am now in my final semester of university, wrapping up my final-year project, completing my last few classes, thinking about job applications and excited about potential graduation trips.
While my weekdays are filled with school work, my weekends are never properly scheduled. This year, I have been learning tennis from one friend, cycled along East Coast Park at sunset with another, explored study spots hidden in the cafes around the city, and enjoyed many evenings around the mahjong table.
Occasionally, my father lets me tag along on one of his favourite pastimes – eating good local food. I think our next stop is laksa at Sungei Road (he is quite fond of their traditional charcoal fire).
For Valentine’s Day, I will be surrounded by the scent of flowers – a friend and I are planning to spend the day helping a local florist arrange bouquets for the day of love.
I’ve heard some people say that being single is dull, or that you “need” a boyfriend to do all these activities with.
But I disagree. I enjoy both the activities and the people I do them with. I don’t yearn for “someone special” to live my life with.
I don’t see these pursuits as distractions either, but as a way to further discover who I am and what I enjoy.To me, there is no rush to anchor myself and settle down when it seems like life is only just beginning.
Being single and spending time learning about myself has given me space for reflection and growth. Along the way, I’ve come to three realisations:
- Establishing my hobbies, my support system and routines has made my life fuller and allowed my self-worth to become more rooted and secure.
- It is only by having a fulfilling life of my own that I feel ready to welcome someone else into it.
- The right person should be one who enhances my life, not because my life is nothing without them.
The writer will be spending Valentine’s Day helping a florist arrange flower bouquets. (Photo: iStock/suney munintrangkul)
I remember vividly seeing the saying “get a life, not a man” all over social media years ago and not quite understanding its meaning. But I now realise, as I stumble into adulthood, it has slowly become my dating philosophy.
MODERN DATING, A FREE-FOR-ALL
Of course, almost everyone yearns for companionship. I know I do. But looking at the Singapore dating scene now, perhaps it is a desire better placed on the backburner.
What unsettles me about modern love is not the dating apps themselves, but rather how we compress ourselves into our most attractive and palatable qualities to be perfectly perceived.
Many of my friends are on dating apps. One friend shared that the conversations often play out simultaneously among multiple online matches.
“What do you study? What are your hobbies? Do you have siblings? All the questions are the same,” she said. It’s monotonous and tiring. In the end, they all blur together to morph into one indiscernible blob.
Unless a relationship blooms, I don’t see the payoff matching the effort of getting to know people and revealing my vulnerabilities.
Forming new connections is wonderful. But to do so in succession, and engaging multiple candidates at once? It seems fatiguing to me.
The sacredness of building a new relationship is becoming lost in our digitally integrated world. Almost everyone has a digital trail. Intentionally or not, our online profiles are a window into our lives.
We are constantly peering into other people’s relationships and vice versa. Through likes, comments, or direct conversations, we welcome their personal views and opinions about our private relationships.
It’s hard to build a relationship when everything you do as a couple is open to comments and likes on social media. (Photo: iStock/Jacob Wackerhausen)
A girlfriend told me about her new resolution a few weeks back: silent dating.
Instead of updating her circle of friends routinely about her latest romantic endeavours, she has decided to date quietly. She doesn’t want their stereotypes about what a relationship should look like to shape how she feels.
She gave an example: “If a guy doesn’t pay for the first date, I don’t think it’s a red flag. But some people do.”
And when multiple voices say “yes, yes, yes – it’s a red flag, you should drop him”, like herd mentality, you too, may start to feel the same way because of these opinions, she added.
“You might break off something that was actually perfect for you.”
Strikingly, another close friend of mine, who has been in an almost decade-long relationship, told me that the privacy of his relationship is something he reveres.
He noticed how some people tended to overshare, inviting others to cast judgement on a private relationship. So a small hiccup may be blown out of proportion because of constant reinforcement from external parties who have only a superficial understanding of the situation.
“We’ll just settle it between ourselves,” he said, as a finality.
While it may be presumptuous of me to come to such conclusions without much dating experience, my friends’ experiences only cement my belief that it is not my time to search for love yet.
PLAYING THE LONG GAME
On most days, my philosophy of “getting a life first” proudly stands. But every now and then, a particularly hard day comes along – the kind where you just want someone to understand you, without question.
On nights like these, the age-old question comes up: Will I be alone forever?
The writer says she will be confident enough to brave the dating world once she’s confident that she won’t lose herself after she welcomes someone into her life. (Photo: iStock/simon2579)
When the image of living out my days alone – till my hair turns grey and my skin creases with wrinkles – feels more tangible than the idea that someone might be there with me, it is frightening.
There is nothing wrong with growing old alone but it is rarely what we grew up picturing.
I also wonder if “to be loved and desired” is too ambitious a hope to have. To have a steadfast confidant – and to be one in return – is something I find achingly beautiful. To imagine a distant future without that kind of closeness can feel a little alarming.
Yet every one of these overly dramatic spirals eventually ends in a new day. The sun rises and I am reminded of everything I have to appreciate.
Perhaps I’ll consider braving the dating world once I feel confident enough to welcome someone into my life without losing myself.
Many of my friends have told me that they found stability in their relationships after becoming emotionally secure themselves – we often attract who we are.
To crave connection is to be human, wired into our very core. But for now I am not afraid, nor am I governed by the insatiable need to be loved.
Love can come later, but my life is already here, ready to be lived.
CNA Women is a section on CNA Lifestyle that seeks to inform, empower and inspire the modern woman. If you have women-related news, issues and ideas to share with us, email CNAWomen [at] mediacorp.com.sg.
Continue reading...