I’m two months from my 34th birthday and I just realized I spent pretty much the entire length of my 30s stone-cold single.
Yep, I’ve not had a long-term relationship in ages.
Years ago, I remember aching, yearning to meet the one. Or, if I was with someone at the time, I longed to be “locked down.” I was desperate to know what my future would be. I couldn’t relax; I couldn’t let life just unfold. I remember visiting my family off the heels of another failed relationship. My niece and I baked a sweet bread called “Phanouropita” and together, my entire family and I said a prayer to St. Phanourios, the patron saint of lost things in the Greek Orthodox tradition. We prayed that if my husband-to-be was out there, that I would find him. Soon.
Good thing I didn’t hold my breath. I’m now age 33-and-5/6ths, and St. Phanourios has yet to come through with the perfect guy. (To his credit, I found something else within myself.)
For my situation, I feel more than acceptance… I wholly embrace my singledom. I can go on a spontaneous solo trip (and boy, do I!), I can purchase anything I want, and I can watch the chick flick. No judgment, no compromises, no sacrifices; I answer to myself alone. This time, this freedom, is a blessing.
There is no void or deficit in my life due to my boyfriend-free status. I am a complete person. My life is rich. And anyone who lands the coveted spot of my partner will have to complement and enrich the deeply satisfying life I already possess. (A high barrier of entry… but not impossible.)
When I meet someone who measures up, who lifts me up, who challenges me and makes me better, then I’ll sacrifice. Then I’ll compromise. But not until then.
And the timing will be just right.