We’ve all been there. It’s Saturday night, and you’re waiting for the next episode of the show you’re currently marathoning on Netflix to load. Three bowls of ice cream deep, you're surrounded by dirty laundry and homework that you’re pretending doesn’t exist. “Why am I so single?” you ask yourself.
I’m here to ask, why not?
If there’s ever a time to completely revel in being alone, it’s now. Alone is a not a bad word. It’s not something to shy away from. Chances are if you’re reading this, you’re a Northwestern student. And if you’re a Northwestern student, chances are you are busy as heck with ten million engagements that don’t include having to decode a text message or worry about where your significant other is at any given point and time.
College is also a time of self-discovery, not a time to pretend you’re super interested in this indie band they want to show you, or to force yourself to sit through their tenth Mario Kart Grand Prix (if you don’t want to). Figure out who you are without another person’s influence now, rather than later when the pressures of passing on your genes to future spawn start to come in to play. College is a kind of limbo, somewhere between being a kid and having to face real life, real jobs and real relationships. Take this time in-between, this “get out of jail free” card, and spend it on yourself.
I say this as a kind of hypocrite. I haven’t been alone since I was seventeen, and even then I was always trying to impress a boy or fit the mold of what I thought I should be. And that was fine at seventeen.
But at twenty, I feel the need to be more responsible for who I am as a human being. I need to figure out who I am so I can figure out what I want. I can barely separate out who is actually me, and who I’ve molded myself into while attempting to market myself to boys over the past few years.
I’ve had “flings” with four different guys over the past three months; I don’t say that to brag, I say that to emphasize how utterly horrible I am at taking me-time. I’m writing this partly to convince myself that being single is a good thing, and partly to hold myself accountable to my newfound singularity – not plunge into another fling just for the sake of having one, a mistake I have made before.
The early twenties are a formative time for most people. You’re mature enough to make your own opinions and unapologetically plunge into anything you find interesting, without any authority figures around to tell you no (I’m talking parents and guardians, the police can definitely still tell you no). So why would you put a limitation on yourself by having to take another person into account when you can, sometimes for the first time, call the own shots in your life and do things for you and only you?
That’s not to say that all relationships are inherently bad and limiting. There are a lot of relationships that serve as sources respect and mutual support. And to those that have found that, congratulations. I’m not knocking relationships in the slightest; rather, I'm trying to embrace the merits of being alone when others might fear to be.
With Valentine’s Day so near, there’s definitely a fatalistic undertone to being single. The thought that, “oh, my gosh, I’m twenty and single and nobody is ever going to love me” is one that, I’m sure, many have had to fight off while trudging through the sickeningly pink and red aisles at Target. But that isn’t the case. It sometimes gets hard to step back and realize how young we actually are. Being single in college doesn’t mean you’re doomed to a life of knitting and cats (though, at this point, that doesn’t sound too bad). I know that reading that doesn’t necessarily mean you’ll believe it; I don’t even know if I believe it fully as I’m typing this. But you can find comfort in knowing you’re not alone with these self-doubts. Single solidarity.
There are a lot of merits to taking alone time. You want to make out with that dude or chick at that party? Go for it. You don’t want to shave for months at a time? Embrace the stubble (you should do this anyway, if you so choose). You want to spend a quarter abroad? No need to have the awkward “so, what do we do?” talk. Go, explore, discover new worlds without having to worry about when you can next stalk your boyfriend or girlfriend’s Facebook and wonder who that person liking all of their profile photos is.
And, of course, with being alone comes being lonely. But loneliness is easily remedied with a good book, great friends or ten hours of funny cat videos on YouTube. Get used to the loneliness – not enough for it to be pathetic, but just enough to be comfortable in the solitude your own company. People won’t always be there to distract you from being lonesome, so you might as well learn to appreciate it for what it’s worth. Again, I feel like a hypocrite for saying this, but I’m working on it.
There’s something simultaneously beautiful and terrifying about not having anybody to answer to at the end of the day. On the one hand, you can live your life just as you want it, without having to take another human being into consideration. On the other, there are so many possibilities with this freedom, which can scare the living crap out of me, but in a way that sets fire to my bones to get out there and do what I want. No more waiting around for a text message or passing up plans with my friends because he might ask me to “hang out." We all know what that means.