One Day Closer to You

So I was picking up my favourite Vietnamese takeout one typical Friday night, and the owner - who I know reasonably well since he is the one feeding my addiction- asked me why I was “so dolled up” and if I was getting up to some Friday night excitement. I laughed and told him I was going to eat my takeout order for one alone on my couch, but thanked him for the compliment… I feel like many single women destined to spend a Friday night alone would have been crushed by this comment. I’m grateful for the strength and humour I’ve gained over the years to help me laugh these things off instead of fleeing into the arms of an instantly gratifying dating app.

That said, I find being single is filled with a flurry of conflicting emotions. I sometimes worry about my level of sanity because although unfazed in that moment; I am not always a rock. In one day alone, my thoughts can live in the realm of “I love my freedom -I love being single and I love how sexy and confident I feel - I don’t need a man, and that may never change.” Then, in that same day, my thoughts can shift to the complete opposite spectrum of “I’m almost 30, maybe I’ll never find him - I wish someone would cuddle me - I want someone just really to know and love me - wow that guy is so hot… I wonder if he’s single” then terrifyingly “I wonder what my ex is doing?” and worst of all “maybe I’m just not quite _____ enough”. At that stage, the downward spiral is complete as the fog of self-doubt begins to consume me. That is where the strength has to live, and that is where humour, and even more importantly, hope, have saved me.

I have a very close friend who is a psychic of sorts. She wouldn’t dream of charging for her services, sometimes information leaves her lips and she doesn’t even remember what she said - it can be unsettling. My friend has predicted many breakups, marriages, pregnancies and other life events with shocking clarity, and she has listened to my relationship woes, hopes, and dreams for more hours than I care to admit. I understand that not everyone believes in psychics and I’m not looking to start that debate. My reason for bringing it up is that she has been the source of my hope for many years now, and has trained me to focus on that hope and to carry it with me.

I don’t know if the amazingly kind, funny, tall, generous, skilled and gloriously sexy husband, and the two, maybe three, beautiful children (one thoughtful and curious boy, one girl, perhaps a second, unexpected girl... I know, so detailed) that my friend has seen for me will ever exist, but I choose to believe that they will. I choose to believe that there is someone out there whose sense of humour and body will fold perfectly into mine, someone who genuinely believes that I am the most amazing, brilliant and incredible woman he has ever met. I believe that there is a man out there who can cherish me, and let me keep being me. A man who is not jealous or threatened by the light that shines from within me; the light I have spent all my life protecting and nurturing.

It's these thoughts of such incredible harmony, peace and genuine happiness that carry me through the times when strangers assume I must look nice because I have big plans with my non-existent boyfriend. I choose to believe the love I dream of exists, and that it is worth the wait. The key here is that I choose to believe, the source of my hope is irrelevant. It takes strength every day to make these choices about how I view my life. I weather the darker days, allow them to become fewer, and keep moving forward.