Why I’m Done with Dating (and Why I’m Finally at Peace Alone)
It has been five years now since I became single, and I haven’t even gone on a date in the last four.
I was thinking about this deeply today, and I came to a clear realization: I don’t even want to go on dates. I don’t want a relationship, and I’m completely fine with the prospect of spending the rest of my life on my own. When I look back at my past partnerships, they were largely abusive, and I refuse to ever go back to an environment where I am not heard, supported, or loved—which should be the bare minimum for a relationship.
The reality is that in order to be a functional adult, I need to protect my peace and happiness. If I’m unhappy, everything breaks down, nothing works, and I simply cannot exist like that. Because I live with chronic health issues, managing my physical well-being is already a full-time job. Ensuring I get enough sleep, eat properly, and maintain my baseline takes a tremendous amount of energy.
Frankly, my physical health can feel as fragile as that of a frail Victorian child. A simple flu can turn into bronchitis in the blink of an eye, and the wrong meal or an excessive amount of stress can trigger full-blown nerve inflammation and a total health crisis that I have to manage for several days. When that happens, I genuinely need to stay in bed and focus entirely on healing.
I don't need a man in my life asking me, "Why are you sick again? Why are you so weak? What did you do this time? Can't you just get up?"—only to refuse to help, cook, or lift a finger while I struggle. Dealing with that shame and neglect during a health flare-up is unbearable.
It is so much easier, mentally and physically, to cook and care for myself when I’m ill than to share a household with a shaming partner.
Layering a relationship on top of my health needs—especially the traditional dynamic where women are expected to do all the cleaning, cooking, and emotional support—is impossible for me. Historically, women are expected to carry the entire load, and I refuse to do that anymore. It burns me out, makes me miserable, and wreaks total havoc on my physical and mental well-being.
I am so tired of taking care of an adult who acts like a dependent, offering nothing in return except complaints and demands. I don't ever want to experience someone walking through the door and immediately asking, "What's for dinner?" How should I know? Go make your own food! Why ask me? The constant mental load, the endless managing, and the physical toll of cleaning up after two people is just so ridiculously heavy.
In the past, instead of support, I got mental destruction to the point where I was gaining excessive amounts of weight, eating away just to numb the pain of the demands I was facing.
A perfect example of this happened just last week. My ex showed up at my door to see our dog—a dog he doesn't even want to care for anymore—and the very first thing out of his mouth was, "You've lost weight."
It’s mind-boggling. Yes, I lost weight—because you abused me to the point where I was so unhappy I was numbing the pain with food. Now that I am alone, able to exist at my natural baseline of peace and properly take care of my body, I am healthy and slim. What else did he expect? The utter lack of self-awareness in these men is astonishing. I honestly wonder if they have any idea how deeply unhappy so many women are with them.
If you have a truly loving, caring, and equal relationship, I salute you. But as for me, I’m choosing my health and my peace. I am simply happier alone.