Originally published in April 2022.
Three years ago I wrote an essay called “What Happens When You’re No One’s Number One” for Refinery29, as part of a column called Every Single Day. And while I wish my greatest claim to literary fame was…you know, the entire book I wrote, this piece is, without question, the most frequent reason people get in touch. Still.
The essay is essentially an exploration of what it feels like when you understand down to your shoes that there’s no one on earth who puts you first. And I’m not talking about the way a parent prioritizes you, because many of us have siblings that our parents like just as much and even our parents (who have partners) think of their partner first if they’re going to do something with regularity like go to dinner or list an in-case-of-emergency person. Our culture assigns priority to romantic relationships when it comes to doing very basic adult activities such that assigning responsibility or priority to someone we’re not fucking seems…weird.
My thesis was essentially that in the absence of a romantic partner, I’ve chosen to do all those nice things I thought a man would be doing for me by now (LOL), for myself. I stopped waiting for someday (evergreen advice by the way) and started showing myself far more kindness and validity than classic singlehood narratives ever taught me I deserved. If you’d like to learn how to do this, again, I did write the actual book on it.
But now, three years later, I think I’d rather talk less about practical strategies for not having our “person,” and more about why life feels lacking without a “person” in the first place. For me, reading this three-year-old essay is almost embarrassing, because I see a person who still felt like her life was missing something, and it wasn’t. I was still focusing on filling a gap, instead of recognizing that there is no gap in single life at all. It also happens to be true that I can talk about single life as whole and complete without that also meaning I’m somehow “choosing” singlehood or “marrying myself,” two phrases that should disappear down a dark alley and never return.
Grooming human beings to believe that their lives aren't complete without the romantic affection of another human being is abusive. There, I’ve said it. Because all it does is raise generations of people—sorry, generations of women—to think that if they don’t have a romantic partner, they’re unfinished, flawed, and not even real adults yet. It creates a cohort of people who are immensely vulnerable to the idea that they’re broken, that they’re missing information that can lead them to love, all sorts of utter bullshit that the dating industry can then charge money to “cure.”
We’re not taught to value an adult life unless it’s romantically bound to another adult life, and I find that deeply sad. My single, adult life is full. I don’t live a life in waiting, I don’t spend my days longing for the “real” part of my life to begin, clinging to every phone notification just in case it’s going to lead me to my fucking husband. I don’t live tethered to a societally prescribed “accomplishment.” I live whole and free in a valid adult existence. I also live entirely open to love, and look forward to my future relationships. See how those things can coexist?
My essay missed the mark. It should have said, “What Happens When You’re No One ELSE’S Number One,” because we should always be our own first priority. We’re never taught that, either. Giving a shit about ourselves before others wasn’t “self care” when we were young—it was selfishness. And don’t be selfish little girl, no one will want to play with you. We’re taught that selflessness, giving above and beyond of ourselves to others is the action most worthy of praise and esteem. It’s how we burn ourselves out in the workplace and lose ourselves to taking care of our families—we were always led to believe that that’s what we’re supposed to do. Superwoman, the one who “does it all,” isn’t she amazing? And then we wake up out of a tunnel vision that’s left us in ribbons, sometimes years later, and wonder how the hell we ignored our wellbeing for so long. We wonder why we gave so much of ourselves away, and in exchange for what? You can’t give from an empty cup, and here we were wearing our empty cups like some fucked up badge of honor.
Putting yourself first isn’t selfish, it’s smart. It makes you a healthy human being who, in actuality, is a lot more capable of being a contributing, helpful, kind member of their community. Being your own #1 is what keeps you from making compromising choices you don’t want to make and saying yes when you really want to say no. It’s also what gives you the confidence to move through life calmly, and contentedly, rather than waking each day wondering if today’s the day you won’t be alone anymore. For years.
I am my #1. I take care of myself, I love myself, I keep myself company. It is possible to do all of these things without “closing myself off” to love in the future. I believe it’s possible to want something, not have it yet, and be completely okay. I believe romantic relationships don’t complete our lives, they add to our lives. And I’d rather add a romantic relationship to a life that is already happy and complete, rather than burden that relationship with the responsibility of making me feel whole.
If you read that original essay and it spoke to you and made you feel less alone, I’m glad. Now, I’d like us to take things further. I’d like us to focus less on solutions for easing feelings of loneliness, I’d like us to find fewer band-aids over discomfort. Instead, let’s find out where that discomfort is really coming from, and see if it’s telling the truth. Because you’re not incomplete when you don’t come first for someone else, as long as you come first for yourself. That’s the kind of person I want to be, and that’s the kind of person I want to be with.
When you’re single, you’re not missing anything, unless you’re ignoring the priceless opportunity we have to value what’s in front of us, rather than lose ourselves to a search for what’s not. The freedom and opportunity of singlehood are, honestly, fleeting. I believe that if we want partnerships, someday we’ll have them. And until then, we have everything we need.