A few months ago, I gave up on dating. It’s very complicated and I was tired of getting hurt by everyone I talked to. Once I stopped trying, I started to feel better. Like, there wasn’t all this pressure to conform to whatever kind of relationship someone else wanted. It felt freeing. While I don’t want to go through the effort of dating apps and matches again, I feel lonely. Each year around the holidays, the loneliness gets a little heavier because I’m the only one in my family that doesn’t have a relationship. Literally. All of my cousins that I grew up with have relationships, and most of them are married and have children already. Every year, my extended family ask if I’m seeing anyone and the answer is still the same: no. I play it off like I’m content with my singleness and freedom to do whatever I want, but deep down it feels like they don’t believe me. It’s like they’re thinking, how can I really be happy being single? Or, why can’t I get a date? I know their thoughts because I have them too. What’s wrong with me? Why can’t I just be normal?

Growing up, I would daydream about an epic love story that went the distance and travelled through tempests. We would have our own battles to fight, but we knew we weren’t alone and that’s what made us stronger. We were in it together. Us against the world. After years of being by myself, I had found my person and for the first time in my life, I wasn’t alone. We understood each other and would fight each other’s demons when one of us was weak. No judgement, just love and hope for a better future. And, it would be a better future. As long as we were together, nothing could ever be that bad. We weren’t alone anymore, we had each other.

I don’t want to date, but I want a relationship. I’m bad at dating, but there’s some part of me that feels like I’d be good at a relationship. I could be good at a relationship, right? I mean, I know I don’t have much experience, but it is possible, isn’t it? The hopeless romantic in me says yes, but the realist knows that’s not true. I wish I could tell my extended family that I don’t want to stay single for the rest of my life and I wish I could get a date. I wouldn’t mind the excuse to get dressed up, put make up on, and feel those anxious butterflies. The hope that it might actually be my last first date I’d ever experience. I haven’t been on a first date in a really long time and regardless, all of the dates I’ve ever been on didn’t mean much because it didn’t result in a relationship. Oh well, all of that stuff doesn’t really matter. As far as my family is concerned, I guess my dating life isn’t something they’re ever going to know. I don’t think they would understand.

I would like to get back out on the dating scene and try again, but my hope in finding someone who understands me is miniscule. Nowadays, I still dream of that epic romance. The one that has a stronger love than most people feel in a lifetime. People say, “you’ll find the right person.” But, to actually believe it is challenging. The truth is, even if I could see houses flying through the sky, I couldn’t see myself actually getting my epic love story.