Not Everyone Is Born To Partner
I've always felt something is wrong with me because I have been single for most of my life. For a long time I thought the problem was that I was unattractive and nobody wanted me. Then I discovered that some people did want me but I struggled to stay with them for more than a few months before feeling trapped.
Then I told myself that my problem was not that I was unattractive, it was that I had a fear of commitment and intimacy, was deeply flawed, immature and selfish…
I’ve been trying to chip away at this stuff over the last few years, in line with the Rumi quote ‘Your task is not to seek for love, but merely to seek and find all the barriers within yourself that you have built against it.’
But when I read this quote, which was being shared on Facebook this week, I let out a sigh of relief. Maybe I’m not totally screwed up. Maybe I don't need to fix anything. Maybe being in a partnership is just not the path for me! At least not right now.
As soon as I allow this as a possibility, my shoulders drop. When I'm not measuring my life against what I think it should be, I can just enjoy and sink into the life I already have - a rich, interesting life, full of wonderful people. A life that, in so many ways, is better than I could ever have imagined for myself.
That said, today is a good day and some days aren't good days. I had days of acute loneliness at the start of lockdown, when I bitterly regretted the choices that led me to being alone in a one-bedroom flat when friends were on sofas with their partners and kids.
I longed for a body next to me, a hand to hold. Somebody to be in it with. That song ‘You might need somebody’ kept going through my head. My aloneness felt like a symptom of my arrogance and immaturity, and now I was getting my comeuppance. I’d made my bed so I would lie in it. Alone!
I tried dating in between lockdowns, in a bid to grow up and compromise and commit and find someone to sit on the sofa with! I saw someone for a couple of months and I really tried but it imploded. I felt like a failure.
I wondered why I couldn’t do this thing that everyone around me seemed to be able to do. Meet someone, fall in love, stay together. What was wrong with me?
This week I’ve been reading Conversations on Love by Natasha Lunn. It started life as a newsletter and the book comes out in July. It is truly wonderful. I haven’t underlined so many passages in a book since The Power of Now.
One of the themes in the book is this idea that we have many loves in our life and that the focus of modern culture on The One is not helpful. It not only puts pressure on one person to provide everything but it stops us from paying attention to the myriad forms of love around us, whether it’s with neighbours, friends, our work, nature…
The book features interviews with people about their experiences of love. One interview is with the ever-wise Alain De Botton who says:
‘We need to stop tying ourselves so narrowly to this punitive vision that we’ve got to date in our twenties, find the ideal partner by 28, and have our first child at thirty-one, otherwise our life will be miserable. If that sort of narrative happens it will be great in some ways and it’ll be awful in others. We need to show more imagination about what a good life might look like.’
He believes that there has been a ‘tragic misalignment of the hierarchy of friendships and relationships’ in recent years. He says in other times a good friend was seen as more important than a lover and is ‘much closer to the roots of happiness’.
He also says that every path - whether we are single, married, child-free or a parent - will have its joys and its sorrows.
When I look at life this way - that there is no ‘right’ way to do it, I can embrace my life just as it is and drop this nagging sense that I'm not doing it right because I am not in a couple.
And, in fact, this lockdown, I have fallen in love. Not with a date, or a dog, or my garden - but with my neighbours.
In normal times we would have said hello in the corridor, but this year we bubbled together and sat on each other's sofas, eating crisps, talking, moaning, watching TV. At weekends we read the papers together and sit in silence as Nelly paints, Thomas reads and I write. It’s kind of idyllic.
On Valentine’s Day, Thomas made us fancy fondue - melted cheese! With bread!! All my dreams come true!! - and I bought them both flowers. Nelly painted our portraits and we watched My Big Fat Greek Wedding.
Earlier that day, I’d Facetimed my best friend and her son, who had made me a card. I’d made him one too and we waved our hearts on paper in front of the screen. Then, I held a workshop with Carrie on how to Love Your Life. I felt love for the people on that screen, people who I’ve been meeting with every Saturday to scribble and chat through a very difficult year. Old school friends joined the call - including one I’ve known since I was four, former colleagues, my aunty in Kerry and my cousin in Australia. When the session was done, I dropped flowers off to my mum and sister and then settled on the sofa with my neighbours.
It was probably the most romantic Valentine’s I’ve ever had. For me, love has not come in the forms you see on telly or in romantic novels but that does not mean it isn’t there. When I stop focusing on a single love story I see that my life contains many love stories.
In Conversations on Love, Alain de Botton talks about breaking down what exactly you feel you are missing by not having a partner. Is it someone to sit on the sofa with? Is it intellectual stimulation? Someone to cook with? He asks, do you really need a partner to do these things with? Is there another way to meet those needs?
The only thing I don’t have in my life right now is enough physical touch which I will have again once restrictions lighten up. Physical affection does not have to come in the form of a together-forever partner.
On good days I believe that ‘what’s meant for you won’t pass you by.’ It might be that I fall passionately in love when I'm sixty - and that would be great. And if that doesn't happen, I think that’s also OK.
Right now, I'm going to keep falling in love with my life and the path I'm on, and let go of that feeling that I've missed a turn.
xxxxx
WHAT I’M READING
I actually haven’t read this article yet - but lots of people are sharing it. It’s about the menopause. It’s great that this is being talked about more.
This interview with Tracey Emin is also on my to-read pile for the weekend. What a woman. She was on Woman’s Hour this week, wondering if it was okay to use the word ‘clitoris’ as she described surgery to remove parts of her vagina, following a cancer diagnosis. Emin joked that she said it on the show four years ago and got banned. Imagine having to ask if it was okay to mention a female body part on a show made for women? How weird and shame-filled the world is and I think it’s changing.
This on David Hockney’s new exhibition of paintings of spring is a joy. I’ve booked a ticket to see it in June.
I also loved this from Austin Kleon about how we need periods of rest. Do sign up to his newsletter. It lands every Friday afternoon and it is a treasure trove, especially if you want to write or be more creative.
WHAT I’M WATCHING
Motherhood - the first two seasons are on Netflix and the latest series is on BBC. I’ve only just watched it because a show about school mums did not appeal to me at first - but it’s so funny!
Also I’ve been watching Superstore on Netflix. It’s gorgeous, smart and warm, while making strong comments on what it’s like to be on minimum wage in America.
WHAT I’M BUYING
Pain au raisins and coffee! I’m hooked and it’s not good because I was trying to cut down on sugar and wheat and caffeine, but ever since the cafe opened up again, it’s the first place I want to go in the morning. Oh well. It’s just so nice to be out in the world, even if it means sitting outside in the rain, as I did yesterday morning. If you are ever in East London please visit Stone Bros on Chatsworth Road. They are the friendliest, kindest coffee makers around and Nelly, who is French and knows these things, says they sell the best pain au raisins.
This Saturday join us for a scribble and a chat, 1pm BST.
Pain au raisin just reminds me of wearing white jeans and t-shirts at Ascots coffee shop with Leslie. Glenn Hoddle used to have one every morning with his cappuccino. I feel it’s a good obsession to have.