love, loneliness and failing as a feminist
It seems like kind of a failure to admit that you want someone. That despite all the feminist messaging hitting us over the head on instagram, to spend time with yourself, get to know yourself, to be a boss bitch by yourself, you still somehow aren’t satisfied with it just being, well yourself. And being alone wouldn’t really be a problem, if you didn’t feel like it was a state that you needed to escape from, a limbo period, before meeting someone and your “real life” begins. Ew. Obviously. Getting “coupled up” is something which all these narratives from Film, TV or goddamn Taylor Swift songs bombard you with. So, whether it’s SOCIETY blasting couples content at you on TikTok, social conditioning or just a fundamental thing about being a human being, as that old adage goes, everybody does need somebody. And this isn’t a uniquely female thing, despite the additional pressure that we face to find someone. The words “biological clock”, “ let me introduce you to” and “aw, you’ll find someone!!” screeched at every family BBQ, pub trip and awkward aquarium gathering ever.
I used to wear my independence like a badge of honour. Like only depending on myself was something to be proud of, protective of almost. I haven’t ever relied on someone else to fill me up, take me out. Being a person all on my own, whole on my own, not half of somebody else. All my friends in relationships would marvel at my ability to not have a partner. “But how can you? …. I just need the validation/ support / affection [insert love language here].” I felt proud that I haven’t ever needed somebody to take care of me. And, honestly? Used to feel sorry for other women who had traipsed from one monogamous relationship to another. How did they know who they were? If everything was constantly filtered through another person’s needs/ emotions/ body? Maybe it makes me selfish, that I feel restless, constrained, stressed to be constantly around someone else… But, it’s always been that way. My mum used to tell this story, that when I was little and had a friend round for a playdate, after a few hours, I would tire of them. I’d officiously go into the living room and announce “I’m done…. They can go home now”. And my mum would laugh and say “that’s not how it works”. I still feel the same about social interaction. I like people, but I also LOVE to be alone sometimes too.
And being alone wouldn’t really be a problem, if you didn’t feel like it was a state that you needed to escape from, a limbo period, before meeting someone and your “real life” begins. Ew. Obviously.
For a while, I didn’t really see the point in a partner. I have a strong community of women who are my family. The first people I call, process things with, pack my tears into a tight 10 comedic standup routine till I can’t remember what I was so upset about in the first place. And my brother, who is an absolute angel, pillar, big nerdy ROCKSTAR. And my writing. Writing is like my boyfriend, girlfriend, diary, dream filler, all rolled into one. But the big bad world is kind of a tough place. And steadily, these people that I lean on get into their own duos of some kind too, the PJ’s you kept at theirs for sleepovers are unceremoniously given back. You go weeks without seeing each other, where before you’d miss each other after a few days….
A friend of mine recently said that having a partner kind of makes you revert to a child-like state. All of these little emotions, tiny things throughout your day which may have upset/ annoyed/ hurt you, suddenly someone cares about. Like a parent who worries when their child cuts their finger on paper, or hears their breath hitch in their throat when they’re sat in the backseat because they’re reading a sad bit from their book. Micro emotions, which friends often don’t have time to go through, suddenly have a place, an outlet, a filter, someone to hold your hand and stroke your hair, someone to listen to the little things.
Having a partner kind of makes you revert to a child-like state…. All of these little emotions, tiny things throughout your day, suddenly someone cares about
Lately, it feels like my badge of honour has slowly been transforming into something else… Like those trophies you won as a kid. 4th place for best rollie polly, second place for participating in the team relay (despite the fact that you threw up halfway down the course, because you’d just inhaled a toastie).They gather dust under your bed and start to matter less and less as you grow up. And then you wonder why you treasured them so much in the first place….?
I suppose it’s because at the time it felt like if you didn’t treasure them, you’d lose your way entirely. Being (mainly) single, or certainly not involved in anything legitimately “long term” for most of my 25 years on this earth has definitely made me more independent, but so too have lots of other things. My parents moving abroad when I was 18, a slight hunch that people you love do let you down eventually. But more and more I’ve been thinking, why was it always so necessary for me to make a point of being a “strong independent woman who don’t need no (wo)man” after all? When clearly…. I do?
If lockdown has taught us anything, it’s that we need people to survive. And having a processing partner, someone to bear witness to your life, somebody to do nothing with, eat three types of deliveroo, change out of your PJ’s back into tracksuits and back into your PJ’s again, is kind of a gift.
I feel like a terrible feminist to admit it, but I’d quite like someone to be alone together with too.