A Question All Single People Should Ask Themselves on Valentine's Day

On a steamy July evening, I strolled into the restaurant and took a seat at the bar. I was meeting a guy for a date… the first real date I’d been on in over eight months. I was early because I was nervous as hell. I barraged my bestie, Kim, with incessant texts about every possible thing I could think of that could go wrong, from being stood up to catfished. 

Since my divorce two years prior, my dating record was filled with failed ‘talking stages.’ I had noticed a pattern with all the guys. They were smart, successful, and unwilling to commit to a relationship. The only thing different was the reason they didn’t want a relationship. For one, a past heartbreak left him only DTF. Another preferred to worship at the altar of Grant Cardone over a woman (apparently Grant isn’t teaching how to 10X relationships) and a particularly hot one believed a relationship would be a “distraction from crushing his goals.” (I hadn’t added “quotes douchey podcasts” to my list of dealbreakers back then). No matter their logic, the fact was they were all the same soul, different face. 

So, I benched myself from dating. I didn’t mess around. I went way beyond deleting Bumble (which was super easy because honestly dating apps are abhorrent to me). I became a full-on hermit. I didn’t go out. I reduced my social media presence drastically. If a dude caught me out in the wild and asked me out, I said no. I worked, I worked out, and did “the work.” Now I was testing the water with a guy who slid into my DMs. 

Aaron arrived, and he was as cute as he was in his pictures. He could’ve been dressed better but I was so relieved he showed up I was willing to overlook his casual fashion. My nerves quickly dissipated. Our conversation flowed nicely. We cracked jokes and volleyed questions back and forth. Then Aaron hit me with a question I didn’t know how to answer.

“I’m sorry but how are you single?” He studied me with squinted eyes and an inquisitive smirk.

“What?” I laughed. “What do you mean?”

“You’re beautiful. You’re smart. You’re well-traveled. You’re funny. Why are you single?” The question was more intense the second time around. He wanted an answer. 

An easy out would’ve been to blame hook-up culture and Peter Pan syndrome rampant in South Florida. That seemed like a cop-out to me. My mouth opened slowly in anticipation of some hopefully clever, quip back magically formulating. No sound came out. Instead, an existential crisis was starting to whirl in my head. Why am I single? 

“Umm.” I tried to buy myself some time. “I mean, um…” I had nothing.

“Do you have a foot fetish?” He grinned.

I laughed. “OMG, no!”

“Are you a murderer? Oh my God. Are you gonna use my skin to make a lampshade?” He leaned in towards me with a devilish grin and one eye-brow cocked. 

“What? No!” I shook my head as I giggled.

“Okay, do you clap when planes land?” Aaron’s eyes were accusing me.

“I would never.” My response was quick and stern.

Aaron’s questioning continued. He worked through more weird fetishes, a variety of mental illnesses, and some intolerable quirks. My responses remained giggle-laden and negative. Finally satisfied there was nothing that bizarre or out of the ordinary about me, Aaron concluded:

“Then the only way you’re single is because you want to be.” 

A “no” would be the obvious retort to his assessment of my singledom. I was on a date after all. That meant I didn’t want to be single. Right? Only half a drink in and existential crisis number two was started. Do I want to be single? Is that why? 

During the original six months of purposeful solitude, I had realized I was too scared to put myself out there and be vulnerable. I thought I wanted to be in a relationship but my hidden agenda (even from me) was to leave before I got left. I had so many techniques to push guys away. I’d force the “what are we” convo too soon and shut them out at the slightest hesitation to commit. One guy said I gave mixed signals.

“Ya know, Claire, the only reason I stopped texting you is because I was confused about what you wanted,” he confessed after a month of no contact.

I only heard “stopped texting” so that was a “byeeeee, boi!” from me.  In my mind, I was setting boundaries, knowing my worth, and some other dating “inspo” I picked up from an IG pictogram (obvi, the best source for dating advice). The reality was I had created a fortress around myself. For someone terrified of being abandoned, I gave guys no choice but to walk away from me. With this new knowledge and understanding of myself, my goal was to work on lowering the drawbridge.

I wanted to move forward with dating with intention and clear communication. Instead, I continued to stay home and do nothing to put myself out there. I was in my “if you can’t add to my peace don’t disturb it” era. According to social media, if you take a toxic behavior and add “era” to the end it’s cool and edgy. 

 I had gone from consciously and intentionally choosing to be single to subconsciously staying solo. Same-same but very different. Yeah, cool, I took the time to figure out how I needed to show up in dating but did I trust myself to do that? Nope. To quote Lizzo: “I did the work. It didn’t work, ah, ah.” 

Self-isolation is a sneaky af defense mechanism. Turns out, it’s my absolute favorite. However, too much solo time isn’t healthy nor is it fulfilling. Everything I learned about myself was completely useless if I didn’t get out there and use it. The time had come for me to get out of the house. And tbh… peace was getting hella boring. 

This is how I found myself at the bar with Aaron, struggling to answer his question. 

I twirled the stem of the martini glass in front of me. I watched the three espresso beans gently pirouette atop the foam. Aaron’s question and his answer illuminated the last camouflaged truth I overlooked during all my months of seclusion: The reason I was single was not because something was wrong with me. I had taken all the past rejection as a statement of my worth. I was still treating myself like something that needed to be fixed to be good enough. But I didn’t need to keep hiding because I was never broken. 

I gave Aaron a sideways smile.

“I guess you’re right.” I looked up to meet his gaze. “I did want to be single.” 

“It’s smart to take time for yourself. I did that after my last relationship, too.” He smiled.

“Yeah. A little bit of alone time is good for you.” I agreed with a smile. 

I’m posting this on Valentine’s Day. Some of you reading this are likely single and might be feeling crappy about that. Before you convince yourself you’re doomed to an eternity of singledom and start your cat herd, I’d like to pose this question to you:

Why are you single?

Your answer might be exactly what need you to hear.

Sending you lots of love today.