I KNOW, I don’t believe it, either. But it’s the truth. It’s day three-one-six of 2025, and it’s a whole three-one-six days since I’ve tried to persuade a man to pick me, using only six photos, three prompts, and my height. And what a three-one-six days it’s been.
Loud and proud for the people at the back
To tell you the truth, I’m bloody proud of myself. I vowed to stop looking for dates at the start of the year, and I wasn’t always sure I’d stick to it. But I have – and I’m dead chuffed. Sure, I’ve had a few snogs with that guy from tennis, carried on a ski-mance with that guy from après, and have been whisked around in a jazz bar by that guy in finance, trust fund, 6″5, blue eyes (lol) – but I didn’t go looking for it. Any of it. And how much room has that given my brain to focus on other things? A whooooole lot.
Course, I’ve completely forgotten how to flirt, but I’ve got to know myself better than ever. I KNOW THAT’S CHEESY. But bear with. I live alone and I’m single, so I spend a fair amount of time by myself. And if I don’t know myself, how will anyone else get to know me?
I am alone but I’m not lonely
All the ‘spare’ time I’ve had since stepping back from forcing romance hasn’t just been me wallowing in my flat, crying my heart out whilst watching Titanic. (Though I’ve definitely danced like Bridget Jones at least 81 times.)
It’s motivated me to try new stuff, like boxing – something that’s fast become staple in my week.
It’s allowed me to give my core the attention it deserves as I near the big three-oh (little steps, that’s not to say I’ve found it – Gabs With Abs is still pending).
It’s pushed me to absolutely STACK my weeknights with fun and goodness – cooking with friends, getting to know the new guys in their lives, finding the joy in running again, spending hours on Facetime (rather than scrolling through man after man on Hinge), rediscovering my love of the cinema, making my flat super cute and pretty for when old colleagues come for tea, and making sure I make it just as super cute and pretty for myself, just because.
I’ve refurbed my whole kitchen on my own, done a LOT of dodging filling and hammering (but nothing’s leaked – yet), struggled to move the furniture I’ve built because it’s so damn heavy for one person but got there in the end, and sanded, painted, and potted a teeny-tiny jungle on my balcony so it’s the best on the street. (And lit up year-round, because who decided fairy lights were just for Christmas?)
Who really gives a toss?
And though all of that makes it sound like I deserve a big pat on the back (thank you), that’s not what all of this is about. Because between all of that, I’ve really started to not give a TIT about anything – but embraced the silliness of it all. I’ve let go of the pressure I’ve been putting on myself for the last decade to ‘be’ a version of myself with guys that probably isn’t fully ‘me’. I didn’t know it earlier this year, but I feel it now. In fact, I don’t feel it, because I’ve let go of it – the metaphorical weight has been lifted of these shoulders. And let me tell you, the silliest, smiliest (and maybe sassiest) ‘me’ is coming. What a delight to finally start to understand what everyone means when they say ‘you’ve got to love yourself first before you can expect someone else to love you’.
Reality check
(For the record, there’s been just as much that’s been my standard, unhinged, always tinkering on a bit of a meltdown self. You know, the drunk calls I shouldn’t still be making at 29, some big and bad middle of the night decisions, all the INSOMMMNIA, saying things I probably shouldn’t have said, a proper few days in the pits under a heavy bout of bleak the other week, days where I can’t escape the questions my brain spins on repeat, whether that’s about work, my body, the whole grand scheme of life, and my current (and very stupid) idea to give up coffee. I’m on day 5, thanks for asking. And the headaches are atrocious. So yeah, I still know how to keep it real.)
To marry or not to marry, that is the question
Oh, and before I go, there’s one other thing. It’s never been a conscious thought as such, but I’ve realised that I always had an expectation of myself to know certain things before dating someone. Like, if I want to get married (I still don’t think I do – at the least I don’t want a big, white wedding wedding – but I have heard the tax implications are pretty decent…). Or, if I want kids. If you’ve followed this blog-not-blog a while, you’ll remember that a few years back, I asked people to stop telling me I wanted kids when I told them I didn’t. But in the last few months, I’ve started to wonder whether I do, in fact, fancy a family of my own.
Whether that’s because my nieces are now ‘proper’ children and I’m missing the toddler snuggles, or because some of my best friends have one (or two!) little people of their own, or simply because I’m the prime age for yearning for a baby, I don’t know. But it’s been real refreshing to sit with all of this on my own, rather than having to try and read the mind of the date opposite me and wonder what he’ll say when I admit I’m unsure. Or against it. Or for it.
2026, let’s be having ya
So, where does that leave us as another year approaches? Well, you know I’d love to meet someone to share the silliness and the smiles (and maybe the sass) with. Whether that’s going to be through an app, at the rugby, or while waiting for the bus is anyone’s guess. For now, I’m going to stay true to my word and ride out the rest of this year the free-est and most single I’ve ever been. All that’s left to say is hold on tight for 2026 – the best is always yet to come.
Enjoyed this, eh?
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