College is, apart from a place of study, the centre of building relationships. Small classes, group activities, and asking to borrow notes or a pen from the cutie beside you are all contributors to socializing in Camosun’s community-college environment. I myself admit that after watching numerous rom-coms and dramas, I always expect the next person to walk through the classroom door to be my soulmate.
Yet, if I see anyone in public holding hands, hugging, kissing, partaking in any sort of romantic interaction, I feel sick with loneliness. Unfortunately, this loneliness is born from more toxic feelings: jealousy, embarrassment, and overall selfishness.
When we are lacking in our basic desire for romantic stability, we fulfill our needs by engaging in activities that open up our communication. We casually date, use apps like Tinder or Bumble, call our exes, and fantasize about having a relationship where you and your dream partner adopt a rescue dog together. The problem with putting emphasis on a desire that requires another party is that we become completely dependent on romance, to the point where we lack personal identity. When our “need” to fulfill this desire is not satisfied, we feel that we are incomplete.
How many times do I have to deal with people’s posts celebrating their six-month anniversary? Or questions like “are you and so-and-so still together?” Making romance a priority leads to burning through relationships. Breaking up is considered a “defeat” as opposed to a healthy mutual agreement. Fighting with a partner is seen as a weakness in a relationship instead of a test of emotional maturity.
Worst yet is the loathsome phrase “you’ll find someone,” as if I don’t have myself to be with. Being alone has given me more room for my own identity, which I can learn to love.
The majority of my friends are single. We jokingly call ourselves bitter spinsters and often share our woes of being alone.
But we end every conversation about relationships with the general theme of “at least we have each other.” I’m endlessly thankful for that. So what if I’m not experiencing the joy of texting a hot goth prince about how my day was? Who gives a damn about butterflies in the stomach? At least I have friends who already know who I am and what I like.
Romance is a gamble that will often start with a persona of insecure perfection and will often dissolve in messy emotional fallout. You have to deal with the pressure of being an ideal person on a first date. You might find a fatal flaw in your potential partner; they may not care for facts on Italian architecture in the Renaissance, or for model trains.
Currently, I’m not looking forward to bearing emotional or physical responsibility for another person. I’m busy, young, and not in the right mental state to have a romantic partner. Finding and losing someone is all too agonizing to go through.
However, I am in the healthier process of realizing that some goth prince isn’t going to sweep me off my feet any time soon, and that’s more than fine. Why latch on to the first attractive person we meet as a source of emotional security? Instead, we should celebrate the love we have for other relationships, and make peace with our independent selves.