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My 10 year singleversary

I'm not entirely sure what photo to use for this post, so here's me dressed as Katy Perry on my 21st birthday. 

10 years ago I was dumped.

At the time, the reactions were the usual “you’re great, you’ll meet someone in no time”. Then the days, the months and the years started creeping in where I had some intense flings and fun frolics but The One never came along. Not only did I not meet someone quickly as everyone promised, I didn’t meet someone at all.  

Society loves romantic love and tries to make us feel like shit if we don’t have it. Older relatives regularly like to ask why I don’t have a boyfriend (I’m bisexual but not explicitly out to my family) and growing up my parents spoke about my future as though marriage would definitely be a part of it. 

Certainly proved them wrong.

I’m very pro-single. Always have been, but it would take me years to really untangle myself from the idea that I needed a relationship to be happy. Thankfully I have (mostly) worked through that but I would be lying if I said reaching the 10 year anniversary of my last formal relationship ending wasn’t bringing some feelings and forgotten memories to the surface.

I entered my first relationship just before I turned 18 and entered the second one not long after that one ended. There was no breathing period between them, largely because the reason my first relationship finally ended was that I had developed a crush on the person I’d go onto to have my second relationship with. I’m mentioning the reason behind the split because I’ll return to it later.

Both relationships were unhealthy. As much as I’d like to say they were both questionable suitors (because, uh, they were) I can’t pretend that I also wasn’t part of the unhealthy dynamic. After my second relationship broke down, I realised that I needed to focus on myself (which kicked started my passion for self-development that you see today).

I also made a promise to myself: I would, from this day onwards, stay single until something very right came along. It was also on this day that I decided I definitely didn’t want children and there would now be no wiggle room on the issue (my second relationship partially broke down over kids, I’ll also return to this later). I also had a serious think about what I really wanted in a partner and would stick to my guns.

I kept all three promises despite pressure to be in a relationship from society, co-workers and older family members. I’m someone who learned the hard way that it’s better to be single than to be in a relationship with the wrong person.

I was really unsure as to whether to publish this post. In it I celebrate the life I’ve built for myself in the past 10 years and I’ve included some advice for new singletons who are still learning to love the solo life. In other parts, however, I admit that I do sometimes wonder if there is something inherently unlovable about me. I also briefly mention what caused my two past relationships to break down, which isn’t that flattering a story for either me or my ex-partners. But ultimately, the most annoying thing about being long term single (for me anyway) is other people’s opinions and the way we’re portrayed as either spiteful Disney villains or sex-crazed Samantha Jones types. I’d like to shake that up a bit with my own story, which tbh is actually rather boring.

So let’s dive in.

Leaning into single life

I’m not going to pretend that loving single life always came easy. I used to wonder if every new person I met could be ‘the one’, I’d pick social activities that could lead me to someone, I’d keep an open space in my life for someone to easily slot into, I’d see single life as something I needed to be cured of.

It took myself a long time to just be and I wish I had done so sooner. If you’re single, don’t see your singleness as something to be fixed. Live your life as a single person. You might be on the market for just a year - or it might be a decade. Stop losing precious time because you’re spending nights out looking for a charming face at the bar rather than making memories with your friends.

There’s nothing wrong with looking for a relationship. I’m still on the dating apps and my friends know what I’m looking for, so they can keep an eye out too. Just don’t let it consume you or stop you living in the now. If you want to live a happy life as a single person, you need to strap yourself in properly.

Self-identity and beating to my own drum

I had a weak self-identity growing up, and that’s partially what led me into two relationships with people who weren’t suitable at all. Since my last break-up, I have crafted my own self-identity that I feel so much more at home in: I stopped eating meat, moved to Glasgow, switched to a career that wasn’t relevant to my degree, became a bonafide city girl, began dressing differently, came out of the closet, and figured out exactly what hobbies I was passionate about and which hobbies were just the ones I had inherited from the people around me. A lot has changed since then.

People can make decisions like these while in a relationship. I know some beautiful couples who don’t act like they own the other person. They grow and change together as people but they also grow and change individually. They have something very beautiful.

I, however, stand by my decision to develop my own self-identity without another person there to influence me. Having self-identity issues meant that it was very easy for me to lose my sense of self in a relationship and to just take on the persona I thought I was meant to have as a girlfriend. It’s hard to find The One when you don’t even know who you are. Even platonically, I only began to meet people who understood me in a deeper way when I began to really come into myself. 

My identity as a bisexual grey-romantic 

The biggest level of self-exploration I did was finally working out my sexual and romantic orientation. I knew I was bisexual as a teenager but it took me a long time to say it out loud. When I finally did it felt like a part of me was clicking into place and it helped clear up a lot of my commitment issues.

Sexual orientation is not the same as romantic orientation, though. Romantically I fall onto the aromantic spectrum, identifying specifically as grey-romantic. As far back as I can remember, my romantic crushes have been few and far between. At high school, even with raging hormones, I had only one romantic crush the entire time. Not because this person was amazing and the rest were rotten apples - it was just the way I’ve always been wired.

During my 10 years of single life, I began to notice how little I experienced romantic attraction and decided to own it. Then two years ago I stumbled upon the aromantic spectrum and discovered there was a word (and a community) for how I felt.

When people nag me about my single life or see it as a problem to be fixed, it’s inherently aphobic. Aromantics (including grey-romantics and demi-romantics) are valid as hell and our identities should be respected.

Learning how love should work the hard way

Here’s the thing about my aromanticism: I faked romantic love for years. I would pretend to have crushes on people when I didn’t and would try and force myself to have romantic feelings for someone who I was sexually attracted to. It never worked, but I would try nonetheless.

What didn’t help was society pressuring me into romantic relationships, and that’s partially how I ended up in a romantic relationship with someone for 18 months who I didn’t have romantic feelings for. This is a common side effect of aphobia and usually, these relationships are with problematic individuals who are seeking vulnerable people. My first boyfriend treated me very badly and people’s mouths hang open when I share the details. If you want girls to not be treated badly, don’t pressurise them to be in relationships.

My first relationship finally ended when I began to have a crush on (and, yes, flirting with) the person who would become my second partner - one of the five people in my entire life who I have been romantically attracted to. Am I proud of this? No, obviously. I don’t regret it though since my second partner did get me out of a relationship where I was begging for a basic level of respect. If this chapter of my life hadn’t happened, I’d maybe still be with someone who was constantly trying to control me and that's a scary thought.

The drama wasn’t over though. Partner Number 2 had flirted with me knowing I was in a relationship, completely unaware of how badly I was being treated. He wasn’t trying to save me, since he had no idea. Nineteen-year-old me didn’t see the red flag for what it was. We’d begin to fall apart within months and within the final two-month stretch we’d be having regular fights because a female friend of his was shamelessly flirting with him in front of me. After he broke up with me, he’d be in a relationship with her within the week.

The whole thing was a shit show. We can’t change the past though. I’ve learnt my lesson and I intentionally decided to stay single after the break-up to work through everything. I’m grateful now that both relationships broke down, even if on very dramatic terms. It would serve as a reminder that being in a relationship doesn’t guarantee happiness and the wrong partner can bring you nothing but pain.

Why didn’t you just leave?

People who’ve survived unhealthy (or even abusive) relationships are asked this question a lot. I’m no exception. The reason I didn’t leave was because of the toxic messages surrounding love that I had been fed since birth: we need a partner to be happy, if you’re single too long there’s something wrong with you, it’s a box you need to tick, if a relationship ends it was because you didn’t work hard enough to save it.

Like a lot of people my own age, I was never told what a healthy relationship looks like. We never received Healthy Relationships 101 in Personal and Social Education. I didn’t know that someone phoning you multiple times while at work (outside of an emergency) and then getting angry about you not answering wasn’t normal behaviour. No one told me that you need to want the same things (or are willing to make some sacrifices) and you can’t make yourself fit boxes that you just don’t fit. I was told that relationships should be hard, but no one ever told me that fighting every week because your partner gets pissy at you having a life outside of the relationship isn’t the same as working through the tough times.

I didn’t grow up knowing that it was better to be single than settle. If I had been told that, things might have worked out differently.

This is why I’m so big on banging the drum for single people and making sure more and more people know that it’s better to be by yourself than with someone who doesn’t love, respect, or trust you. 

Mental health and the wrong person taking its toll

After my first two relationships ended, it became obvious that my attitude to relationships wasn’t quite where it needed to be. Since then I’ve read dozens of self-help books on romantic love and believe I’ve come out the other side. The fact that I now have much healthier friendships is a testament to this.

I’m not going to publicly hash out the details of what exactly made these relationships unhealthy. One thing I am going to say is that 10 years ago my mental health was the worst it’s ever been, where I became difficult to be around (someone else’s words). It’s hard to know exactly what was the source: maybe it was two unhealthy relationships back to back, a friendship ending on very bad terms, the housing problems I was facing at the time, or emotional issues I hadn’t yet dealt with. Probably all of these things combined. What definitely did happen though was that the worst of it calmed down soon after my second relationship ended. I still had difficult emotions to deal with and I lost a lot of weight, but I was no longer behaving in a way that would cause concern.

When I first became single I, rightfully, took a break from dating. I stand by this decision. I knew I wasn’t in the right place mentally to enter a relationship. You don’t need to be perfect to be loved and I still have habits that would wind someone up the wall, but you need to be capable of having a healthy relationship. In recent years my reason for being single has simply been that I’ve never found anyone, but once upon a time it was a choice I made because I wasn’t quite in the right place.

Admitting publicly that you’ve had mental health issues affect a relationship (even if I’m not revealing details) isn’t easy. The discussion around mental health, gaslighting and toxic relationships has come a long way since 2010, and it’s helped me make my peace with that period of my life. I still remember the day where I came across the article that would help me make sense of everything. I can’t find it now, but it was a list of what an unhealthy relationship looked like...and confirmed to me that my exes weren’t great people and the negative feelings I was experiencing were valid and not that uncommon. 

Seven years of being single by choice

There’s a myth going around that everyone who is single is actively looking for a partner. For seven years I chose single life. When my last relationship broke down I wanted to be by myself. Partially to work out some stuff but also because I wanted to make decisions about my future without considering a second person. Up until my move to Glasgow, which would take place almost exactly two years later, even the most amazing person in the world wouldn’t have been considered. I wanted to be single more.

Once I moved to Glasgow I didn’t have this reasoning anymore and could have changed my tune. I did, sort of. I certainly became less resistant to meeting someone but I wasn’t exactly going out of my way to find someone either. During my 23rd year on the planet I’d develop a pretty big crush on someone...that I did nothing about. There was still something about being in a formal romantic relationship that didn’t sit with me.

Then three years ago I’d work it out. If you’ve been hanging about with me a while, you’ll know that three years ago (because everything big that’s ever happened to me took place in October) I’d come out of the closet as bisexual and end some unhealthy friendships. After that, the idea of a romantic relationship was something I felt more comfortable with. 

Pick me and pitching yourself

You’ve probably gathered at this point that I and my first partner sort of just picked each other then forced it to work. We weren’t in love and constantly made attempts to change the other person. Shockingly enough this didn’t work out and I wouldn’t recommend it.

My second relationship had way less of this, but an element was still there. We had chemistry and that amazing New Relationship Energy, but our lack of long-term compatibility was obvious from the start. We were delaying the inevitable.

When my second relationship was on the way out, my now-ex did try and reassure me that other people found me attractive. I understand the sentiment behind it but he still worded it as if someone would choose me like I was some kind of Pokemon.

I left the Pick Me attitude behind when I started dating again. Unfortunately, I was soon to discover that a lot of people don’t understand how genuine compatibility works. When I flip through Tinder, most bios sound like sales pitches rather than a genuine snapshot into that person. I’ve heard on multiple occasions that men will swipe right on almost everyone just to increase their chances of matching. And don’t get me started on people who use pictures of other people’s dogs on their profile.

When people nag me about being single, they make it sound like finding a partner is like achieving other life goals where there is more of a step by step process. Finding a partner isn’t the same as getting good grades, saving up to buy a house, or trying for a baby. There are always environmental factors at play no matter our goals, but with finding love you have a much bigger hurdle: you’re dealing with autonomous people. These autonomous people might just not feel the same way, they might not be looking for a relationship, you might want something different long term, or they might be in love with you but just not ready to meet you where you need to be met.

Six months after my last relationship ended, I had a fling with someone who organically slid into that spot. We had known each other a while, but not well. We just slowly got to know each other through a university project, really hit it off, and mutually began to like each other at a similar pace without any prodding from the other person. This never developed beyond a fling, but I’m still friends with the person to this day and I believe that we managed to shift back to a platonic relationship because the romantic element had grown from the right place. It was lovely to experience something that was so natural, even if it was brief. 

Dating in a generation of freedom & child-free by choice

Even just a few decades ago, people weren’t living their truths. LGBTQ+ people weren’t out (and many still aren’t). Polyamory wasn’t accepted as much as it is now (depending on the circles you work in). Women used to need men financially and would get into relationships for financial security. Having children was very much the norm, but now it’s a lifestyle choice. There are a lot more deal breakers to consider in modern dating than there were in our parents’ generation.

As someone who doesn’t want children, my dating pool is limited. It’s hard to find someone to have a serious romantic relationship with when I am both grey-romantic and child-free by choice. Both my ex-partners have at least one child each (maybe more by now) and my second relationship partially broke down over children. It wasn’t ~the thing~ that caused him to officially end it with me, but it had been causing tensions in the relationship and made me increasingly irritable. He knew he wanted kids one day and we could barely walk past a group of children without him cooing. Less than a year after we broke up he would become a dad.

My first partner was open to having children and, to an extent, so was I. It was a bridge we would cross when we reached it. We broke up long before that bridge needed to be crossed. Then I entered a relationship with someone who really wanted children and I was under pressure to have a proper think about how I really felt. In the aftermath of that breakup I made my choice for good.

People like to argue that I might change my mind. Maybe I will but that will be my decision and my decision alone. There is time yet, but I am 30 in three weeks and my decision has never shifted. I know from past experience that a relationship cannot work if you can’t agree on whether you’ll have children or not. Having children is an emotive issue and it’s not the same as disagreeing about what suburb to live in. The thought of having kids made me increasingly nervous and ultimately affected the overall health of the relationship. You can’t agree to disagree.

Some people really want children and feel a deep longing for their own offspring. As much as you can’t make someone want kids, you also can’t make someone not want them. Even though I don’t speak to my exes, I hope that their kids bring them the joy they’ve always dreamed of.

As a side note: not wanting children might be why single life doesn’t bother me as much as it might for others in the same age bracket as me. 


Coming out as bisexual was one of the best decisions I’ve ever made and had an incredible effect on my mental health. There has, however, been a downside to coming out: there are a lot of straight and gay people alike who won’t date bisexuals. While there are rumours that bisexuals are greedy and have a wider pool to pick from, the opposite has been true for me.

Since I came out three years ago, I have briefly dated three people. All three people have been bisexual. This wasn’t on purpose on my part, but I’m not calling it a sheer coincidence either given biphobia that exists from both straight and gay people.

Miss Independent

I’m an independent person by my nature and if I had a pound for every time someone equated this with my singleness I’d at least be able to buy a three-course dinner.

Independent people still fall in love. My independent nature didn’t stop my two shit-show relationships from happening. I was still vulnerable to them. I know some incredibly capable independent women who are loved up. The presence of a romantic partner in their life does not mean they lack independence anymore than my lack of a partner makes me more independent.

It’s not that deep. 

Challenging the status quo 

When people find out how long I’ve been single, their immediate reaction is cock their head to the side, look quizzically at me and state “but…you’re nice…how is a lovely girl like you still on the market?”

First things first: this reaction is annoying. Quit it.

Secondly, I know why people do it. We’re fed the message from birth that marriage and kids are the be-all and end all to happiness. If people are single past a certain age, there must be something wrong with them. Then they meet me. Someone who has been single a long time, largely through choice, and proves that single people can be happy and fulfilled.

If you’re someone who reacts to my long-term singleness with intrusive questions or drawing up a plan to fix it, ask yourself why. I know it feels like an innocent question and maybe I’m reading too much into it, but it feels like a layered question. What are you really saying when you care too much about someone else's love life?

I refuse to be friends with people who don’t hold similar politics to myself. That includes their attitude towards single people. All my loved-up friends actively encourage me to keep my standards high, understand aromanticism and don’t roll their eyes when I tell them I don’t want kids. It would be a dealbreaker if they tried to force me into a lifestyle that I didn’t want.

I know some people might roll their eyes at single life challenging the status quo. The world is built for partnered people though, from travel products to plus-ones at weddings. It’s also more expensive to be single. I’m reminded regularly that I’m single in a world that doesn’t want me to be.

Flings, casual relationships, and non-monogamy

Over the last ten years, I’ve begun to question the “relationship elevator” and the black and white rules that surround relationships. You should always live together. You should be monogamous. You should have sex three times a week. These days I support doing what feels right for you, communicating with the person you’re dating, and agreeing to terms that are right for your situation.

Since the break-down of my last formal relationship, I’ve not been living a life starved of sexual and romantic intimacy, I’ve had casual relationships, hook-ups and flings. These situations were still meaningful and beautiful (sometimes ugly) even if they were with someone I decided wasn’t a life partner (and communicated that to them).

Platonic love affairs

Society likes to tell us that our romantic partner should be the centre of our lives and that single people who don’t have this are lonely trolls who think of our cutlery as friends. I bought into this narrative for years, until I noticed that many of my social and emotional needs can be met by platonic relationships.

A plus one, a travel buddy, someone to call in an emergency, someone to check in on you when you’ve gone quiet, someone to read over job applications, spoiling someone on their birthday, helping you make big life decisions and to hear the words “I love you and you are special”. These things don’t have to be a romantic partner, just someone you love and trust.

I still have romantic and sexual needs that my friends can’t meet, so, yes, I still ideally want a lovely stranger to come along and sweep me off my feet (or at least a passionate fling). But needs that aren’t inherently romantic or sexual? Gots my people.

Other people’s opinions

If you want to support single people, one of the barest minimum things you can do is not ask us why we’ve been single so long or act shocked. Treat long-term singleness as something normal.

Sometimes people stay long-term single for traumatic reasons. It’s also just not your business why someone is single. My pet hate is people who barely know me trying to set me up with someone without permission (learn some boundaries).

My reasons are less dramatic and I don’t mind sharing. It’s a combination of wanting to take a breather from relationships when I first became single, moving to a new city and barely knowing anyone, not experiencing romantic attraction all that often, and being confused about my sexuality until I was 27. It’s only been the last three years where I’ve actually craved a committed romantic relationship.

Sometimes it’s embarrassing admitting how long it’s been and I shave a few years off. There was a large part of me tempted to not publish this blog, since only people who’ve known me a decade actually know how long it’s been.

You might remember that I went on a dating show last year (it’s called Hot Property, Season 2 Episode 6) and there was a title card stating that I had been single for two years. I lied. Two years before filming I had been in a low-key casual relationship that lasted 18 months and decided to count it from that. As much as I might claim to beat the drum for single people, when it came to advertising my long-term single status on national television I couldn’t face it. 

Caring about my ex’s opinions

As a society, we like to speak about “winning” break-ups. You can safely say I didn’t win either of my break-ups. The last I knew, both of my exes were partnered (one married) and had one child each. However, I don’t want children and the last I knew neither of my exes even lived on the same landmass as me. Let’s throw away the idea that breakups are to be won or that we should pretend our life is better than it is when our exes are around.

I love my child-free life in Glasgow, which probably would have never happened had neither relationship crashed. A lot of things I love about my modern-day life may never have happened if I was still with them. I’m doing my life and they are doing theirs.

I’m not in contact with my official exes and any online snooping on my part has been few and far between. Even when I still had to attend the same (small) university as one of them (albeit it a different course) I managed to stay in relative ignorance about their life. I’d be really surprised if either of them keeps tabs on me. I’m not going to pretend that there’s a part of me that wonders if they do ever look me up (it’s not exactly hard to do) and if they maybe snigger at the fact that I never did meet anyone new. 

The one who didn’t get away

I could be married if I desperately wanted to be.

I could have stayed with my first boyfriend, I could have begged my second to stay, I could have given someone I didn’t fancy more of a chance, I could have asked someone I was casually dating to be a formal partner, or I could have agreed to have a kid I didn’t want to have.

Obviously, I didn’t do any of these things because that would have been ridiculous.

Over the last 10 years, there hasn’t been someone who got away or someone I look back on with a glitch of regret. If I had gotten married, it would have been to settle, rather than for love. Where would have been the fun in that? 

“Being single a long time is a red flag”

There’s an episode in Friends where Ross makes Phoebe cry by pointing out that she has never been in a long-term relationship. Then Ross makes up a fake story about an ex-partner so the man she’s dating (Mike, who’ll she’ll eventually marry) doesn’t think any less of her.

I’ve heard it in real life too: if you’ve been single a long time you need to be avoided because a decent catch wouldn’t be single long-term. Let’s just sit with this for a while.

If you have this attitude, what are you actually afraid of? Horrible people get into and stay in relationships all the time. If the person you’ve just started dating seems amazing and has been single a long time, they probably are amazing but just never had that special spark with someone. They might just be waiting for someone really great….and that person might be you if you don’t run a mile!

My promise was to never settle, not to stay single

When you’ve been single for as long as I have people sort of give up on you. Several family members have long stopped asking me questions and whenever I stick up for single life on Twitter someone usually comes into my mentions trying to defend relationships. There is a point where people just think you're being single on purpose (which, for some people, maybe the case).

I’ve never said at any point in my life that romantic relationships are not worth pursuing. I’ve also never said that I would never want one again. You can find happiness in a single life while still acknowledging that your ideal life would involve a romantic partner. Stop thinking in absolutes.

The fear of forever alone

When my first relationship was falling apart and I was issuing the final warning, my now ex-partner said “no one else will ever put up with you”. It’s a cruel thing to say to someone, yes. What really strikes me about it now is that we live in a culture that is so focused on romantic love that the fear of never meeting someone else can be used as a form of control.

I’m definitely of the opinion that the fear of forever alone and the pressure we put on people to be in a relationship keeps people in unhealthy and abusive relationships. Ex-partner Number 1, if you're reading this: no one else ever did put up with me (aside from ex-partner Number 2) but I’d take a lifetime of forever alone than ever put myself back in a relationship with someone who thinks it's acceptable to speak to me like that.

I don’t fear forever alone anymore. After 10 years you begin to embrace that maybe this is your forever. I don’t have a crystal ball that lays out my future for me. If I meet someone, fall in love but then 10 years down the line decide that relationship is no longer what I want, I like to think that I’d leave without much hesitation. I’m first-hand proof that long-term single people can be happy and fulfilled and I hope forever that I remember this years down the line if I ever again find myself in a relationship that has run past its expiry date. 

Sometimes things fall apart so better things can fall together

If someone had told me right after my second relationship ended that I would be single in 10 years time I would have probably curled up in a ball and cried for two years. The idea at that point in time that I wouldn’t have a shiny new partner to show off at some point in the future was a somewhat unbearable thought.

But better things were in store for me. Those better things were not a new partner who would sweep me off my feet. It came in the form of a new city that I love, a new career direction, new friendships that I may not have stumbled upon otherwise, a flat right in the city centre, and discovering who I really was.

Moving on doesn’t mean moving on with someone else. It means leaving what was in the past and looking towards the future. If your future involves a beautiful and healthy lifelong love affair, then I’m happy for you boo. But if that love affair ends up being with yourself and your own life, then I’m happy for you too boo.

Don’t you ever hate being single?

These days I want a relationship and I do have my nights where I wonder if it will ever happen. I also have my nights where I wonder what I’m doing wrong and get worried I have some massive blind spot that is obvious to everyone but me. When lockdown started one of my initial thoughts was the effect it would have on my dating life and the realisation that if lockdown went on until October I would definitely cross over the 10 year mark.

Back in the summer, I was feeling restless about the 10 year mark. Being inside your house a lot while on furlough allows your brain to start churning around thoughts that would normally be a blip on the radar. Negative memories from my previous relationships surfaced and I began ranting about my exes to my friends who never knew them. I also began obsessively swiping on Tinder even though it’s hard to catch someone’s attention and convince them you’re worth a chance in the middle of a pandemic.

Honestly, most of the time I’m good though. Any negative feelings towards single life happen when I’m processing a rejection or experience a false start (or I’m stuck inside my house). And despite my negative feelings in the summer, when I was finalising this post last night I felt just fine at the idea of passing over the 10 year mark. As for loneliness, don’t know her. I have an amazing group of friends who make sure that the emotion we call loneliness isn’t something I experience all too often. 

If you’re newly single

I don’t give newly single people the “you’ll meet someone else soon enough” talk. It would feel hypocritical coming out of my mouth. If you’re newly single, reading this ramble on my 10 year single anniversary might even bring you fear.

What I do say is that there’s a life out there waiting for you. The best way to move on from a broken relationship isn’t to get drunk, post passive-aggressive Facebook statuses, burn sage, or “get under someone else”. It's 1) give yourself space to grieve and 2) start planning your new life for one instead of focusing on finding a new partner. Not to sound cheesy, but this your new chapter and it’s time to get the pages turning.

At the time of my last break-up, Yes and Yes had just become my favourite blog and Sarah’s guide to getting over a break-up, to this day, is my favourite ever article on the subject. It really helped me back then and I hope it helps you too. 

If you’re loved-up and want to support single people

I’ve ranted enough about not trying to fix single people or asking intrusive questions. Let’s move on from that.

Here are a few more examples of how you can support single people:
  • If you have a business does it accommodate single people (for example, a B&B)?
  • Don’t make us attend weddings ourselves. If you’re happy for someone to bring their boyfriend of three months who you don’t know, single people shouldn’t be expected to turn up themselves either (especially if it’s just the evening reception).
  • Raise your kids to know that being single is a legitimate life choice and a relationship should be about love, not ticking a box. 

No regrets

Normally my single anniversary passes me by without any notice. 10 years was harder to ignore. My last break-up happened just before my 20th birthday and with my 30th very much in sight, it’s been difficult to ignore that my 20s hasn’t involved a big love affair.

I would do it all again though.

The last decade of my life has been filled with a cross-country move, platonic love affairs, a career change, creative projects, and fun flings. If I had the opportunity to go back and change this, I wouldn’t take it. I still found my happily ever after, even if it didn’t look the way I had originally planned.

I don’t know what the next decade of my life has in store for me. Will a big love affair be part of it? Who knows. Maybe I’ll publish this blog and be loved up within months (if this pandemic eases up) or maybe I’ll see in my 40th birthday as a single woman. Either way, I’m looking forward to it.

To 10 years of choosing the right path for me, not settling for the wrong person, and being the love of own own life x
morag | mo adore
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