I was terrified to be single. Now I’m relieved

If I never have another romantic relationship, I’ll be fine

I woke up this morning and watched the skies slowly turn to dark blue through the French shutters. My bed was cold, empty, and everything was impossibly silent. What if no one ever sleeps next to me again, I thought in the gloom. What if this, at twenty-six, is it?

Don’t get me wrong, I like being in love. I love that warmth of finding someone next to you in the dark, I love the excitement of waiting to see them again, I love the joy to see that they’ve sent you something nice out of nowhere. I even like the harder parts of love: overcoming problems together, having difficult conversations, growing closer through the discovery of fears, flaws, faults. But as my friends marry, get into serious long term relationships, and start having children, I can’t help feeling that it probably isn’t for me. People lust after me, sure: and I’m sure I could settle for the nice-enough man with the nice-enough future if I felt I had to. That feels unkind to do, though. Love, after my tempestuous early twenties, evades me. Which, to be honest, is fine.

Truth is: I like being on my own. I like my friends, I like my family, I like weekends where I can take off to the city or spend the whole time reading. I like long walks by myself, I…