The Single Series
I’m in my 40s and, for most of my life, I never really questioned whether I would get married. It was simply part of the future as I imagined it. I would meet someone, fall in love, get married and move on to the next chapter. There was no reason to think otherwise.
Then life happened.
I have dated. I have met men who seemed promising and others who made me seriously question my judgement. I have loved, been disappointed, picked myself up and carried on. Somewhere along the way, though, I stopped being quite so certain that marriage was waiting for me around the corner.
And then a question I never expected to ask myself became difficult to ignore: what if I never get married?
For a single woman, particularly as you get older, that question carries more weight than it probably should. Friends get engaged. Younger cousins start getting married. Family members give you that look. You know the one. They are trying very hard not to ask, until eventually somebody does.
“So, when are you getting married?”
As though you have received the date and simply forgotten to inform everyone.
Then comes the advice. Be more open. Stop being so picky. Go out more. Give him a chance. There is always an auntie with a nephew, a friend with a colleague or somebody who knows a “really good man.”
After a while, you can begin looking at your life through everybody else’s expectations.
The truth is that being single does not necessarily mean something went wrong. A relationship may have ended. You may not have met the right person. You may have walked away from something unhealthy or simply refused to settle for something you knew would make you unhappy.
Sometimes, you are just single. It is a relationship status, not a diagnosis.
That doesn’t mean you don’t want marriage.
I still do.
There is something lovely about the idea of building a life with someone. Companionship. Partnership. Having someone to come home to, travel with, laugh with and call when something completely ridiculous happens. Someone with whom you can build traditions, memories and perhaps a family.
There is nothing embarrassing about admitting that you want those things. The danger begins when wanting marriage turns the rest of your life into a waiting room.
How many decisions do women postpone because they imagine they will make them “when I get married”? The house. The holiday. The move. The business. Sometimes even the good plates.
At some point, you have to acknowledge that this is your life. Not the rehearsal. Not the version before the real thing starts.
Buy the house if you can. Take the trip. Change careers. Build the business. Invest your money. Celebrate your birthday properly. Make your home beautiful. Keep your friendships alive. Use the good plates.
And please don’t lower every standard simply because another birthday has arrived.
There is a strange idea that as women get older, things that would once have been considered red flags should suddenly become “small issues.” Of course nobody is perfect. But imperfection is not the same thing as dishonesty, disrespect, emotional unavailability or being fundamentally wrong for you.
Marriage is too serious a decision to make because you are frightened of being the last single woman at the table.
Still, I don’t think we should romanticise being single either.
Sometimes it is frightening. You wonder what growing older alone might look like. Who will be there when life becomes difficult? Who will sit beside you in the hospital? What happens when friends become increasingly absorbed in their own families? Who becomes your person?
Those are real questions.
But marriage itself does not automatically answer them. There are married people who are deeply lonely and single people surrounded by extraordinary communities of friends and family. A spouse can be an incredible source of love and support, but a wedding ring is not an insurance policy against loneliness.
Perhaps that means single women need to be more deliberate about building the other structures that make a life secure. Financial independence matters. So do friendships, family relationships, health, community and having people you can actually call at 2 am.
And yes, there will still be weddings that get to you.
You can genuinely adore your friend, dance until your feet hurt, take fifty photographs with the bride and still go home wondering when — or whether — it will happen for you.
Both feelings are allowed.
But there will also be mornings when you wake up and realise you quite like the life you have built. You enjoy your independence, your friendships, your work, your home, your routines and the freedom to decide what happens next.
None of that means you have given up on love.
It simply means love is no longer the only interesting thing that can happen to you.
Maybe I will get married. I still hope I do. I would like to meet someone whose presence makes my life richer, happier and bigger rather than smaller.
But if marriage comes, I want it to meet me already living.
Because perhaps the question that frightens so many of us, What if I never get married? has been taking up too much space.
A better question might be: What kind of life am I building either way?
And suddenly, there is so much more to talk about.
