Happily single. Or at least I think so.

How uncomfortable am I prepared to be to get what I want? Or think I want?

I was driving home from a breakfast date with an amazing friend this morning and I had to ask myself that hard truth. Our conversation had been about many topics; among them, my foray into the world of online dating. I wondered how to meet a great guy organically. My friend shared that she had two siblings, in our age range, who were single and thought they might want a potential partner. 

The three of us “singles” are in very different situations but we all think we might want to “be with someone” as we move into the last phase of our lives. The things is, though, none of us are. And none of us have a solid plan on how to get what we think we want. 

I mentioned to my friend that, for me only, the three biggest hurdles were these: 

• Did I put pressure on myself to “partner up” because I grew up in a generation where there was an expectation to have a partner?
• How uncomfortable am I prepared to become if I do want a companion, as having one will require a certain amount of life shifts and compromise? 
• How much effort am I willing to put into meeting several potential men in order to try and find the right one?

As our breakfast date went on, I remarked to my friend that the chef, who also served us, piqued my interest. In addition to being easy on my eyes, he had a great personality — a little bit fun, a little bit serious. As we were paying our bill, the chef was in his office, within conversation area. I had no idea this friend was such an awesome wing woman. She played detective, in front of me, finding out his Halloween plans. And I didn’t clue in. I just stood there while this happily married woman unearthed facts about a man who I found interesting. I…just… stood…there. Insert smack my head here! Short of her giving him my phone number herself, she did everything to help me out. I’m a putz. 

So we left. And although I know where the chef will be tonight, he doesn’t know my name or have my number. And this, after I told my friend I wanted to meet someone in person. Which brings me to the three hard truths I asked myself and the answers I’m trying to figure out. 

So, first thought: am I putting an expectation of togetherness, of partnering up on myself? Am I succumbing to a generational pressure, implied or manufactured, of togetherness? No and yes. I did grow up in a generation where the expectation was partnership. But as time changes and society changes, I no longer believe it’s an expectation from other generations, only my own and only to a degree. I still believe women who are older and single — widowed, divorced, never married — are viewed with a bit of suspicion as in, “What’s wrong with them?” At one point in the past four years, I felt that way. I no longer do. The more comfortable I am with myself in my life, the more selective I am with my dating efforts. Society can view me as it likes. I’m in a position in all aspects of my life where I do not care. I call my shots.

Secondly, how uncomfortable am I prepared to become to accommodate a potential partner? This one makes me step back and gulp. Because the truth is ... not that much. I love my independence. Love being able to do what I want when I want. Love the flexibility to do things with friends or solo. Sometimes my house feels a bit too silent with only my footsteps, my breathing, my noise. When it does, I put on some music, the TV, create my own noise. I can leave my things where I want, fling my bra off wherever I want, crank the heat (actually turn it down) how I want. I enjoy my space. I love taking classes when I want, travelling when I want. I enjoy connecting with friends and going to the pool to work out. 

A relationship would inevitably alter my life. It would have to. The moment I welcome a serious partner into my space, that partner asks to be a part of it. Claims time in it. Priority in it. Even casual dating means shifting time devoted to other pursuits to the pursuit of a relationship. Would I be willing to compromise, even for a partner I thought was incredible? Truthfully, I do not know. I look back at how much I’ve changed and grown over the last four years. I look at the life I’m continuing to create. And I sometimes wonder if the idea of a partner is more appealing than an actual partner. That was tough to write. 

How much effort am I willing to put into finding a partner? Well, if I look at my four-year track record, apparently not much. I tried a dating app, met a nice man for coffee and then got on airplanes for a month and a half (I was honest and told him the timing sucked). I went to a speed dating night. I joined Facebook dating for 30 seconds (OK, two days) and was overwhelmed by responses and by the three men I had short conversations with. One bombarded me with his need to connect, one asked about my living arrangements and one told me our signs are a divine match.

I’m outgoing and easy to talk to and, when I attend events on my own, I’m open to conversation. I'm open but rarely initiate.  Often, I’m told, attending events I’m interested in is a great way to meet a guy but I also know that I want to immerse myself fully in the experience.   I could try smiling more, initiating conversation more before or after the event. But I don’t. And I think that says something.  How much effort am I actually putting in? Not a lot. Not at all. 

Writing this has made me realize that what I think I want might not be what I actually want. If I’m not willing to compromise my life that much, not willing to put in the great amount of effort required to meet someone and not scared to be a woman of a certain age living her life as she pleases, then maybe, just maybe, what I actually want is what I actually have. Maybe it’s time to release and embrace. 

Of course, you know what’s going to happen next, right? The universe always has a way of throwing a plot twist when you least expect it. And just when I think I have it all figured out, it’ll turn out I don’t. And that’s more than OK, too.