Sometimes it feels like the safest way to live is just… alone. You get older and realize that finding someone real to build with is about as rare as finding a matching sock straight out of the dryer. Most people are either too into themselves, still running the streets, hung up on an ex, or stuck in the past like it’s their favorite Netflix series on repeat. And then there are the ones who show up just enough to confuse you — they want you, but not enough to actually choose you, yet somehow still won’t let you go. Make it make sense.
We’re in an era where toxicity is practically a love language, and it’s depressing to admit that sometimes being single is the only way to keep your peace and mental health intact. Relationships today feel like group projects — one person doing all the work while the other just shows up on presentation day.
The worst part? Knowing exactly what you bring to the table, but realizing half the people out here don’t even have a table. Some are serving TV dinners on a folding chair. I also know that my illness, the boys, and all the baggage that I bring to the table is something I don't feel someone would easily want to help unpack.
When I got divorced, it was terrible — and one day we’ll get into that entire debacle. But like the red flag chaser I’ve always been, I jumped headfirst into the next thing. Fell hard, like “this is the love you wait for your whole life” hard. Except… in his mind, we were more like best friends. My ex-husband loomed like a dark cloud, I was scared to stand up to him, and that love story crumbled before it ever really had a chance, but not before the boys and I feel in love with all that he came with, even his entire family. They hugged us so tight for a moment we felt that they had all started to mend the broken pieces. With them, we felt like we were the lucky ones, but with that dark cloud eventually he struck down like lighting risking collateral damage, to innocent people, doing what he loved to do best, break mine and the boys hearts.
I dated here and there, and a few years later met someone truly kind. For a moment, it felt like maybe this time would be different. But then reality set in — my health would always stand in the way of love the way I pictured it, and eventually, sadly, that ended too. The truth is, I thought divorce would mean finding someone better, someone to help raise the boys, to give them the family they deserved. I thought love would be the missing piece. But I’ve had to face the fact that I’m not great at love — at least not the romantic kind. I’m great at giving love to my boys, my family, my friends — my people. That’s where my heart shines.
I’d be lying if I said I don’t get a little jealous when I see my girlfriends, or my cousin, who married the right person. Because in my mind, it’s 100% true — finding the right partner has to be the most important decision you make in your entire life. Pick right, and you have a teammate: someone to raise babies with, buy a home with, take vacations with, and share the weight of life. Pick wrong… and you end up like me. Alone, stumbling through, leaning on aging parents, making every hard decision for your children that you never imagined having to make by yourself. And in those quiet moments, it hits the hardest — the feeling that the childhood your kids deserved ended up fractured. At the end of the day, I’ve realized love doesn’t have to look like the fairy tale we grow up believing in. Sometimes love is cooking dinner with your kids, laughing with your friends until your cheeks hurt, or sitting in silence with people who make you feel safe. Maybe my “happily ever after” isn’t about a partner at all — maybe it’s about building a life so full of love with my people that if someone worthy ever does show up, they’ll just be the bonus round, not the whole prize.
So here I am, single. Embracing it. Not looking for love, maybe even turning it down when it knocks. Maybe that’ll change one day, or maybe it won’t. For now, my peace, my kids, and my people are my love story. I also really love not being touched and not sharing a bed! It is the little things I relish in now. Maybe someday I will be the bride in a rom com, riding a horse with Richard Gere at the end of Runaway Bride.
At the end of the day, I know I’ll be 100% fine if my happily ever after is just me, my boys, and my best friend — soaking up life together, laughing through the hard parts, and making our own version of family. Because maybe love doesn’t have to look like the picture-perfect story — maybe this is the story. And honestly, I’m good with that.
