The first rule of singlehood fight club is simple: you must scream in capital letters—mostly to convince yourself—Really, I am fine being single. Empowered, thriving, main-character energy. These are now the golden synonyms of being single. ‘Miserable’ didn’t make the cut because it doesn’t look cute on Instagram stories. Think of a straight woman on a post-breakup solo trip, posting pictures of wildflowers, weighed down by paragraphs about the meaning of life. Pathetic, right? But that’s the gig.
The new-age campaign for singlehood had to be nauseatingly upbeat to make sense. I mean, have you seen the chaos on dating apps? Now, apparently, everyone is single by choice. Even the ones waiting on 10 Hinge matches to reply. They’re all about building a fortress of solitude, never settling for less, and even marrying themselves. It’s called sologamy—a questionable peak of self-love. Or maybe it’s just a concept lost on people like me who mostly tolerate themselves most days.
You won’t catch me complaining about being single. Not unironically, at least. That’s mostly because I identify with the fox who declared all the grapes sour after he couldn’t reach them. The poor guy was just protecting his inner peace. And I have talked to enough ‘happy singles’ to confirm that I am not alone. One of them installs Bumble on Fridays, looking to sort a date for the weekend, but deletes her profile by midnight—it’s safer to assume that the tall, funny, and intelligent guy would have a pungent personality.
They say singledom is a necessary path to self-discovery. And somewhere along that path, what you discover is that you’ve become too comfortable riding solo. The mere thought of someone eating, sighing, or breathing in your space seems mental. That’s the kind of single one PhD aspirant in Delhi is. To deal with the occasional loneliness and boredom, she goes swipe-shopping, deliberately hunting for people who are either geographically, emotionally, or legally unavailable.
Another girl in Gurugram, juggling her own collection of casual non-relationships in her sweet singlehood, has finally perfected her answer for when a date asks why she’s still single: I am mildly deranged. She would barf if someone called her a happy single.
Also read: What it takes to go from casual to committed in the modern dating world—good luck
Are we embracing singlehood?
Some 20-somethings are single because the dating culture demands nothing less than perfection. To be that perfect in this age, you’ve got to unpack your generational trauma in therapy, have a thriving career, the perfect BMI, a 10-step skincare routine, and—trickiest—a belief system. Sounds like too much homework.
One DU student is planning to unsingle herself as soon as she’s in a “good place”—which is one year from now, when she’s finally learned to play the ukulele. “Why would someone date me now, I have nothing going for me.”
What about singles who want to be in a relationship? Well, the dating gurus say they especially have to not want it to actually get it. Riveting stuff. Too many reels on Instagram are peddling one profound advice— “If you aren’t happy single, you won’t be happy mingled.” Meanwhile, my ready-to-mingle sources say the only thing giving them grief is their single status.
A 29-year-old copywriter in Bengaluru has tried everything to get on the happy-single bandwagon. Solo dates at Third Wave, self-care at Zumba classes, learning to crochet—the full starter pack. Still, the only thing she really wants is a boyfriend. Being single especially feels horrible on solo dates when there’s no guy around to haul her overstuffed luggage. Mostly, she’s sick of her married friends telling her, “Oh, I miss being single like you,” from the comfort of their joint home loan.
Research studies show that more and more young people are “embracing singlehood”—in a world that’s designed for paired-up perfection. Try buying groceries for one person. The bread packet always expires before you can finish it. That’s how romantic flying solo is.
Views are personal.
(Edited by Theres Sudeep)