Originally published September 2022.
One of the privileges of working in the singlehood space is the people. I get to connect with so many people who’ve shown me kindness, curiosity, support, love, and community. In creating the content I wanted to see in the world, I’ve met so many people who have been gracious enough to show me that I was right — we needed this.
From outside the single sphere, the narrative might suggest that the people I hear from are largely sad, lonely, desperate for love, etc., as though we’re an entire community in lack and longing. In reality, our interactions are much more nuanced, because while many of us do want partnership, there are countless layers to the feelings and experiences that come along with wanting partnership and not having it, or wanting partnership and spending years trying to find it. The most common trait among all the singles I hear from shouldn’t surprise me, but it does. It isn’t that we all have the desire for partnership — it’s the feeling that no matter what we’re experiencing or going through, we’re the only ones. The severity and frequency of experiences are so astounding that they couldn’t possibly be happening to anyone else — that would be insane. So we feel alone and embarrassed and deeply flawed, otherwise why would we be having such a hard time?
The search for someone else is isolating us, while at the same time there are countless singles going through the very same thing. Does that make sense to you? I mean I guess it makes sense to me, but I hate it. A community, a world of singles experiencing the same abhorrent things needs to know that it’s happening to everyone — and if it’s happening to everyone, there’s no fucking way it’s all your fault.
You’re not alone. The things that are happening to you, the foul messages you’re receiving, the scheduled dates that are standing you up, the grown adults unmatching with you after you’ve met in person instead of having the maturity to tell you they’re not interested in a relationship with you, the people who disappear after they’ve introduced you to all their friends and family, we’re all there — we’re all fielding this shit. We are all living in a world that is confusing, frustrating, exhausting, and unfair. Can you believe this happened? Yes. Yes we can. It’s happening to all of us, we believe every word.
Please don’t take this the wrong way, but you’re not special. This shit is pervasive, it’s everywhere, and it’s happening to us in numbers. Anyone brave (or naive) enough to enter modern dating culture is going to get stung by multiple bees in that particular hive. It’s the shame of these experiences, of singlehood itself, combined with the internalization of fault and flaws that must be attracting all this shit to us like some sort of counter-intended magnet that keeps us isolated and alone, feeling as though we’re the only ones in the world that have it this bad. And to place a cherry atop a cruel cake, the messages we receive from outside the dating world are that we’re causing it all ourselves. If you’ve never read my work before you should know I think the outside world doesn’t know it’s dating ass from it’s eyelid.
Someone partnered, or someone who’s never dated in modern dating culture giving dating advice to someone single and searching for a partner with the resources currently at our disposal is no different from me walking into a Michelin starred restaurant and giving the chef a few pointers. It’s perfectly acceptable for human beings to understand when they’re out of their element unless it pertains to dating, then every Sally, Sam, and Susan is a fucking expert.
I know we’re not alone in our experiences, because I’m talking to so many of you experiencing the same thing. I’m seeing the number of people who listen to my podcast, buy my book, or follow along on TikTok and tell me I make them feel seen. We aren’t isolated individuals bearing a unique brunt of dating. Dating itself is universally bad, and acutely difficult — but if all we are is ashamed and silent, we’re going to think we’re doing something uniquely wrong, and we’re going to think we’re bringing this shit on ourselves. Honestly dating culture is masterful at never having to answer for itself. Just keep blaming those desperate singles! They’ll never speak up!
Motherfucker, I’m speaking.
I’m holding the dating space accountable for its cruelty. Did you know that was allowed? Did you know you can do more than just wonder what the hell you’re doing wrong, and start asking dating culture why it’s so goddamned terrible at its job? Did you know you’re allowed to fire dating?
I cut off dating culture’s access to me almost four years ago because so far, that’s the only tool I’ve had in my shed. The stories, the experiences, the struggles, the vileness — ten years I waded through it, thinking “it’s all my fault.” If all these unfortunate, disappointing, harmful things are happening to me, being done to me, it’s probably just because I’m doing dating wrong, right? I’m sure I can develop better dating skills, that’ll do it. That’s what the world keeps telling me will work. I’m sure the world is right. Then imagine thinking that for ten fucking years.
As a result of exhaustion, or a merciful moment of clarity, I decided to entertain the idea that dating itself had descended into a shithole, and had never once delivered on the idea that it could be, if not successful, then just enjoyable for a moment. Dating lied to me for a decade. I am so glad I stopped lying to myself, assuming dating culture knew something I didn’t, assuming it was the authority in the situation instead of me. I took my agency back over my emotional and romantic wellbeing and removed dating culture from my life. It felt so good, and my life improved so drastically, that I turned telling other people about it into my career.
Personally, I feel so much better knowing that I’m not the only person who knows how awful dating can be. Every time I hear from someone that they’re thinking thoughts I’ve had, or going through difficulties I’ve been through, too — I feel better, because I feel less weird and alone. I hope I’m able to make people feel better too in return. Obviously I’d love it if none of us ever had to experience the festering charms of modern dating culture at all, but a digital dating age created this monster, and now I guess we all have to find a way to fight it. I’ve chosen to fight by leaving, rather than continuing to amass more “horror stories,” but I get that my chosen path isn’t right for everyone. My main point here is that I want you to know that as you’re reading these words and feeling like you’re the only person this shit is happening to, somewhere in the world there’s someone else doing and feeling the exact same thing. A lot of someones, actually.
I think that’s why we vent. I think that’s how dating “horror stories” became entertainment. We needed someone else to know what was happening to us because it somehow feels better when you’re not the only witness. Maybe we thought if we vented this shit into the world, someone would eventually help? They won’t, by the way, if that isn’t yet clear. Venting, recounting, rehashing, I hate it all. It’s dating’s little hamster wheel and it only feels good for a moment. But you keep needing more moments. Because when all you do is vent, you never learn, and you never change. Single people are allowed to change in more ways than just finding a partner.
The things that are happening to you in dating? You’re not causing them. And the abundance of crap you’re encountering in dating? You’re not the only one living through it. I know there’s safety in numbers but for our sake I hope there is solace in numbers, too.
It’s not just you, it’s everyone, and we all deserve better than this.
A sense of community solves a lot of things. While it’s not going to make your partner materialize in front of you any faster, what it might achieve is helping you calm down a bit about the urgency of that outcome. Knowing there are countless singles experiencing the same things you’re experiencing might, I hope, help you shed a little shame, and therefore shed a little bit of the need for a partner to just show the fuck up already so that you can stop dating.
(If you’re reading my work, you probably know that you can stop dating whenever you want to and that stopping isn’t going to “lower your chances” of meeting someone in a world where people meet in literally countless ways, I’m just letting you know I understand the mindset.)
Why is it always easier to tell a friend they deserve better than it is to tell ourselves we deserve better? Why don’t we want a life that’s just as good as the life we’d wish for a friend? Know that if you are currently single and you don’t want to be, you’re among friends. See yourself in the countless other singles currently wringing their hands and screaming into pillows. Know that you don’t deserve it just as much as they don’t deserve it. Singlehood narratives will try to convince you that you matter less than other people. Don’t let that limiting mindset be the center of you. It is lying.
If we feel like we’re the only ones dating is dumping on, we’re going to stay stuck, never doing more than bitching and venting, and dating culture and the dating industry are going to keep getting away with their behavior — the culture is going to keep getting worse. When we feel like we’re in this together, when we know we’re not alone, it becomes easier to see that collectively, we don’t deserve this. It becomes easier to start demanding more of dating, or walk away from it entirely until it gets its shit together.
It is not just you, it is never just you. It’s all of us, and none of us deserve to feel alone — because we’re not alone. We never were.
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If you liked this essay, you’ll probably also enjoy my book A Single Revolution: Don’t look for a match. Light one. Book links are affiliate links.