Okay, real talk: when was the last time you took yourself out to dinner without scrolling Instagram or texting your group chat? 🙃 Last year, after my 47th mediocre Tinder date (shoutout to “Jason” who showed up in socks with sandals and quoted The Matrix as life advice), I had an epiphany: What if I’m the soulmate I’ve been waiting for? Cue the record scratch.
Let’s get one thing straight—this isn’t about being “forever alone” or sour grapes over bad dates. It’s about flipping the script on romance. I started treating myself like someone I wanted to fall in love with. Spoiler: It’s been messier, more hilarious, and infinitely more transformative than any rom-com montage.
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The Awkward First Date (With Me, Myself & I) 🍷
My first solo “date” was a disaster. I booked a table at that chic natural wine bar I’d been saving for ~special occasions~, then spent 20 minutes debating whether to order the $18 charcuterie board (treat yo’ self? Or adulting guilt?). Halfway through my second glass of orange wine, I caught myself mentally drafting a tweet about the experience instead of… you know, experiencing it.
But here’s the kicker: loneliness and aloneness aren’t the same thing. A 2022 study in the Journal of Positive Psychology found that people who engage in intentional solo activities report higher creativity and emotional resilience. Translation: Sitting with your own awkwardness is emotional CrossFit.
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Why Solo Romance > Waiting for Prince Charming
We’ve been sold a lie that self-love = bubble baths and affirmations. Cute, but surface-level. True solo romance means:
– Ditching the “when/then” mindset (“I’ll be happy when I lose 10 lbs/find a partner/get promoted”). Newsflash: You’re already whole.
– Learning your own love language (Turns out mine is buying myself tulips every Thursday and leaving myself voice notes saying “You crushed that work presentation!”)
– Embracing cringe (Dancing alone to ABBA in pajamas > pretending to like craft beer festivals)
Neuroscience backs this up: fMRI scans show that self-compassion activates the same brain regions as maternal care. You’re literally hardwired to nurture yourself.
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My Unorthodox “Relationship Routine”
– Weekly self-date nights: Art galleries, solo picnics, or just eating takeout in the bathtub while watching Fleabag. No photos allowed.
– Conflict resolution sessions: Journaling through arguments with… myself. Turns out I’m terrible at apologizing (to me).
– Cheesy rituals: Writing love letters to my future self. Example: “Hey 45-year-old you, I hope you still hate cilantro and love impractical shoes.”
The result? I’ve become obsessed with my own company. Not in a narcissistic way, but in a “holy crap, I’m actually interesting?” way.
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But Wait—Isn’t This Selfish?
Let’s demolish that myth. As author Brianna Wiest puts it: “Self-care is making the list. Selfishness is demanding others read it.” When you stop outsourcing your joy, you show up differently for others. My friendships deepened once I stopped using them as emotional bandaids.
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Your Turn (No Rose Ceremony Required)
Start small:
1. The 10-minute coffee rule: Sit with your latte without your phone. Notice how the world behaves when you’re not performing for it.
2. Reclaim “weird” pleasures: That obscure hobby you abandoned in middle school? Mine was memorizing Shakespeare soliloquies. Now I perform them for… my cat.
3. Break up with comparison: Unfollow anyone who makes you feel like your solo life is a “consolation prize.”
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Here’s the radical truth nobody tells you: Falling in love with yourself makes every other relationship optional, not mandatory. It’s not about rejecting love—it’s about entering relationships from overflow, not emptiness.
So tonight, I’m taking myself out for oysters and a walk along the river. If you see a woman laughing too loudly at her own jokes and wearing a dress with pockets (non-negotiable), that’s just me… romancing my own damn soul. 🦪💃