How a Year of Singleness Helped Me Meet My Husband

It was the early 2000s and I had been in back-to-back relationships since my teens, before splitting up with my university boyfriend about a year after moving to London. We lived in different parts of the city and I felt that he had changed considerably since joining the trading floor of an American investment bank. So we part ways.

I was 23 years old, Sex and the city had recently appeared on our screens and I thought – in my new single life – that I could play the field a bit like Samantha but, about six months into my single life, I found that it really didn’t suit my type of “all or nothing”. personality.

After years of meaningful relationships filled with emotional connection, fleeting flings left me feeling hollow and empty. It was like having McDonald’s compared to a steak. It gave me a quick fix, but then if they didn’t call I felt helpless, and if they did I didn’t always want to pursue things that made me feel like a horrible person. It was a no-win situation.

I realized that I had spent so much time defining myself by the man I was with – it started at my all-girls school where having a boyfriend, especially if he was a year or two over- on it, was considered a status symbol – but now I was a young adult and didn’t even know who I was on my own.

I was living in a shared flat in west London at the time and had a long conversation with a flatmate who suggested I leave the bandwagon for a bit and try being completely single. It seemed quite intimidating at first, but I thought about giving it a try for a few months. Like Hudson, who spoke about his celibacy at Call her daddypodcast, I didn’t want to “keep repeating patterns”.

Very quickly, I realized that going out without hoping to “attract” someone, giving out my number or getting a man’s attention, was actually quite liberating.

I gained confidence in myself and invested more in my female friendships. We were all a small group living in close proximity and I learned to really nurture those relationships, rather than just seeing them as a stepping stone to a man. I loved hearing their dating stories and realized I could live through them vicariously, without putting myself at risk in the process.

After 12 months of being single, I broke off my commitment with a crazy date with a friend of a friend whom I had invited to come check out my CD collection (it was the 2000s, after all…) . I remember finding the whole experience disappointing. “Is this it? Is this all I’m missing?” I thought.

I went traveling soon after and, after an adventure with a New Zealand chef, returned to the UK and met my now husband.

We met the old fashioned way – in a bar in Bristol. He worked at the same law firm as my sister and we talked. I loved his flamboyant shirt and his ’80s dance moves (which, I later realized, weren’t really meant to be ironic.) We married six years later.

This meeting took place over 20 years ago, but looking back, I realized I was in a much better frame of mind than when I was going out four or five nights a week. I became happier in my own company, I rediscovered reading and I discovered that I could spend weekends with friends or go home to see my parents without the company of a man .

I also think I must have appeared more relaxed and confident when I met my husband, Dom. I gave him my number and was pleasantly surprised when he called me the next day. I hadn’t been, as I would have been before my year of singleness, desperately waiting on the phone.

As a result, our relationship seemed very easy and pressure-free from the start and it more or less continued to be that way over the years. As Hudson, who at 45 is about the same age as me, said: “It made me see things a lot more clearly. »

Looking back, three children later, and having celebrated our 16th wedding anniversary last month, I realize how beneficial this “gap” year was in so many ways.

It reminded me that my self-worth wasn’t defined by who I shared a bed with, and that in fact, I often sleep much better alone.