Wednesday, January 16, 2019 // The Statement 
7B
Wednesday, February 20, 2019 // The Statement 
 
7B

L

ast year, a friend of mine, who 
had been searching for a girl-
friend for a decade, finally found 
someone. When I heard the wonderful 
news, I texted him, “I’m happy for you.” 
His reply was odd but familiar. He wrote, 
“aww thanks, it’ll happen for you one 
day, don’t worry.” I was slightly irritated. 
I had never expressed that I was search-
ing for a relationship, and his assumption 
that being single was not my choice both-
ered me.
He was not the first one to manifest 
such a bizarre judgment regarding my 
single status. I have gotten used to being 
stereotyped as the lonely, single woman 
who is unable to find love — the future 
“crazy cat lady.” I have internalized these 
social standards by constantly bombard-
ing myself with question: “What if I never 
find someone?”
In reality, I am grossly burned out 
from trying to find a life partner because 
I have had a little too many eerie and 
rather unpleasant experiences with seri-
ous relationships, non-relationships and 
flings. Between the ages of 15 and 20, I 
had four long-term relationships. Until 
August last year, I was technically “sin-
gle,” but in a non-labeled relationship 
with someone. In other words, I have 
gone to great lengths to eschew the for-
lorn psychological state widely known as 
“loneliness.”
As a teenager, I settled for incompat-
ibility, convincing myself that being 
slightly unhappy was better than soli-
tude and loneliness. I jumped from one 
dysfunctional relationship into another, 
seeking another person every time I was 
encumbered with the emotional vacuum 
and fresh scars of a breakup. Allowing 
myself room to breathe, grow and devel-
op myself was not an option.
At 16, my first serious relationship 
ended somewhere between hell and the 
wildfire that wrecked the Battle of Black-
water (Game of Thrones, Season 2). Its 
repercussions demolished my sense of 
self-worth, which expectedly takes time 
to recover from. But I wasn’t one to stop 
dating. I entered another serious long-
distance relationship. The three months 
between my first two relationships felt 
like purgatory gaps in my search to find 
“the one.”
Romance was my main priority in my 
teenage years because the vignette of a 
partner heavily imprinted my vision of 
an enviable adult life. I grew up watch-
ing romantic comedies, both of the Bol-
lywood and Hollywood variety, which all 
end with a grand reconciliation between 
the male and female protagonists. Even 
the “happily ever after” in Disney prin-

cess movies depicts romantic partner-
ship as the basis of a happy life. The word 
“couple” remains an essential component 
of the socially sanctioned boxes of adult-
hood that include a real job, a house, a 
family and, of course, a partner. Like 
myself, many friends of mine entered 
toxic relationships and stayed in them for 
long periods of time.
When imagining myself single, I visu-
alized a lonely woman, sitting on the floor 
with Chinese take-out and cheap wine, 
blinking tears as the tragic cloud that 
reads, “You are alone” settles around her 
aura. I was apprehensive of an embar-
rassing scenario — having only my par-
ents to call when I got into colleges. But, 
since I always had a boyfriend during 
that time in my life, I would deem myself 
lucky that I wouldn’t have to do that. Yet, 
my relationships ironically brought lone-
liness and insecurity into my life.
I was perfectly happy with my friends 
and family until I stumbled upon the 
repetitive relationship syndrome. My 
self-confidence went missing, and I 
wavered with bitterness and fragility. I 
spent nights wondering if someone was 
cheating on me. Days unfolded in horrid 
blurs, arguments and tears. But I deli-
cately camouflaged the negative aspects 
of my relationships under the shiny 
wrapper called “love.”
I was too spellbound with the idea 
of having a boyfriend to recognize the 
infringement on my personal develop-
ment every time I embarked upon a jour-
ney to share love with someone else. But 
when my last relationship met its dis-
tasteful demise, I celebrated my newly 
acquired singledom as a marker of free-
dom to casually date whomever I want. 
My divorce from relationships lead to the 
“party girl” lifestyle.
In today’s millennial world, being 
single envelopes the hook-up culture, 
in an effort to free the term from an 
association with isolation. As a result, 
non-relationships have become the new 
relationships. I frivolously dove into 
a rampage of “friends with benefits” 
arrangements. I would have frolicking 
hook-ups that would turn into a salacious 
game of “who’s going to be the first one 
to text.” My non-relationships eventu-
ally involved the same amount of work 
as relationships, except with a confus-
ing headache that emerges with the gray 
area.
My mind would perform gymnastics 
with thoughts like, “Should I message 
him now? I don’t want him to think I’m 
his girlfriend. He’s not my boyfriend, 
I can’t randomly message him on a 
Wednesday night.” Non-relationships 

weren’t the “chill” I expected. It was the 
same as relationships, except without 
a label. It was like trespassing the same 
danger zone with a “lifeguard” Hallow-
een costume.
During this phase of my love life, going 
home alone on weekends was another 
scenario I dreaded. Finding someone at a 
party to fulfill my sexual needs was my 
definition of being single. Men flocked to 
my life like pigeons, and I considered it 
my pride. But I knowingly resented the 
pressure of having to text a man when I 
just wanted to be alone. In some ways, I 
loved the idea of attention more than the 
attention itself.
After two years, I realized that I was 
paradoxically sustaining the ideals of 
finding a partner that I hoped to dispense 
from my ideological landscapes. I was 
denying myself that room I needed to 
breathe and learn who I am and what I 
want from my life.
Last August, I moved into a studio 
apartment and decided to concentrate 
on myself rather than men, sex, love and 
relationships. Alas! I discovered what it 
means to be single and happy. I 
began watching more television, read-
ing more books, talking to my parents 
and friends whom I had lost touch with. 

Strangely, I didn’t feel that void I pre-
dicted I would feel if I were single. There 
has been a surge in my independence and 
I finally have headspace to think about 
the different things I can do with my 
life. I even began writing and publishing, 
and I discovered domains of my life that 
brought me pleasure and satisfaction.
I’m not saying relationships always 
blind individuals from unearthing their 
own inner potential. But we often feel 
this need to be with someone else, and 
thereby forget that self-sufficiency and 
self-love are important dimensions of a 
happy adult life. I enforced this require-
ment in my life at the cost of subjugat-
ing my personal fulfillment. Though I 
don’t regret any relationships, I am glad I 
finally went on hiatus from them a hiatus 
from them. Every significant moment of 
my life, such as graduating high school, 
leaving Bangladesh for boarding school 
and beginning college, involved a part-
ner.
Three months away from graduating 
college, I truly feel refreshed and ready 
to start a new life by myself. For now, it is 
me, myself and I, on my couch relishing 
chicken wings, tacos and ice cream. And 
I couldn’t love it more.

BY RAMISA ROB, STATEMENT CONTRIBUTOR
Failing in love

ILLUSTRATION BY WILLA HUA