Author: Juliet Nnaji
In a world where love is portrayed in countless forms through movies, music, and social media, it's easy to feel lost in the maze of modern relationships, especially when you're a 24-year-old navigating the complexities of singledom. Love, a simple four-letter word that carries within it a world of complexities, expectations, and emotions yet so big that it can overwhelm you.
I have been single for as long as I can remember, for as long as I have been an adult. My last relationship was when I was 18. It crumbled mainly because it's tough to date while living in an African home; the need to keep it a secret, combined with my move to a different state, led to the breakup.
I have remained single for this long, not because I lack opportunities or because I'm not interested in love. On the contrary, I've experienced my fair share of interest from potential partners. The complexity arises from the intricate interplay of emotions, desires, and societal expectations that often accompany these encounters.
When I first moved into my apartment, I thought it was just a matter of time before I found a partner. I was finally away from family and the yardsticks that came with being the first child, the first daughter, and the only girl child in my family. There is a kind of freedom that comes with finally being solely responsible for yourself. But then, I have been living alone for nearly four years and still find myself among the “God when” group when I see cute couple stuff on social media, in movies, or even among my friends, wondering when I, too, will get a glimpse of what being in a romantic relationship feels like as an adult.
At this point, I think I should mention that I am drop-dead gorgeous. Have you met me? My body is to die for. But when you meet people, no, slash that, when you meet men who constantly see you as a sex tool, who constantly sexualize your body and are only interested in being a part of your life if it involves fucking you, it takes a lot of strength not to begin to lose sight of what you see in the mirror. Because when each crush follows the same pattern, one you didn't even know existed, you start to resent your own body and wish you could cut it all up because questions like “Am I not good enough?” “Am I not worthy enough to be fully committed to?” or “Is something wrong with me?” begin to pop into your head.
The Ups and Downs with Modern Dating
Modern dating is a multifaceted journey filled with a myriad of options. With dating apps and social media, we have access to a vast pool of potential partners. It should be easier than ever to find love, right? But this is where the first layer of complexity emerges. In a world of seemingly limitless choices, it's easy to become overwhelmed. The paradox of choice can leave us perpetually swiping left or right, searching for someone who meets our ever-growing list of criteria. As a 24-year-old, I've felt the weight of these choices and the constant evaluation of compatibility beyond superficial traits.
Mixed signals are another hallmark of the modern dating landscape. With digital communication, it's all too common to experience the ambiguity of text messages, the uncertainty of online interactions, and the anxiety of not knowing where you stand with someone. These mixed signals often lead to confusion, frustration, and the lingering questions, "What does this mean?" “Where is this leading to?” “What are we right now?”
Earlier this year, I met someone and was okay with whatever crumbs he was willing to offer. Not because I was ready to settle or that I had lost track of what I wanted, but because I was yearning for companionship. Adulthood, as I've come to realize, comes with its fair share of limitations. Everyone around you is busy, wrapped up in the bustle of everyday life. If you are, like me, someone whose circle of friends has dwindled as they “Japa” (the Nigerian slang for leaving the country) due to the deteriorating state of the country, the loneliness can feel choky. So much so that you would want your own person. Someone you won't feel like you are bothering if you want to see them all the time, if you want to kiss them until the sun comes up, or if you want to cuddle them till their arms feel numb because you had a long day or a bad day, and their presence is your ultimate comfort that will make you feel better.
When you have been alone for so long and being alone is all you have ever known, you begin to feel the heavy cloak of loneliness settle on your shoulders, and you would do anything for a hug, for company because navigating the world alone has its own rhythm. You discover what you can and cannot live without — the simple necessities and small joys that define a life. Not food, shelter, or the basic things a body needs — those are, for me, cheap — but the things that keep you sane. That brings you joy. That makes life bearable.
I believe it's this fear of being alone that often compels people to remain in relationships they would rather not be in. Choosing to stay, regardless of whether they feel truly fulfilled, because they fear the emptiness that being alone might bring.
In today's dating landscape, there's also a spectrum of intentions. On one end, there are those seeking casual encounters, physical intimacy without emotional attachment, and fleeting connections. On the other end, there are individuals searching for profound, committed relationships. Navigating this spectrum can be bewildering, especially when our own intentions don't align with those of our potential partners.
I've encountered those who are solely interested in the physical aspects of a relationship, leaving emotional needs unmet. I call them “fuckbodies.” And because being single doesn't mean a girl shouldn't get some, I keep some of them around. On the flip side, are those who desire all the benefits of a committed relationship but hesitate to fully commit themselves. These are “We don't need to put a label on it” or “Let's just go with the flow.” This mismatch in intentions has often left me feeling used, unfulfilled, or simply lost in the tangled web of modern romance. And it has made me wonder if, by the time love comes, I will not already be too broken or too tired to see that it might be what I have been looking for all along.
As I reflect on my singlehood journey, one recurring theme stands out – the allure of the emotionally unavailable. It's a pattern I have found myself falling into, whether consciously or not. I seem to be drawn to those who seem elusive, who keep their emotions guarded, and who may not be ready or willing to fully commit. This attraction is sometimes magnetic, and it's something I've grappled with. Perhaps it's the thrill of the chase or the desire to unravel the layers of a complex individual. Whatever the reason, it often leads to a rollercoaster of emotions. In the end, I find myself investing time and energy into something that may never evolve into the deep connection I crave.
Society's Expectations: Navigating the Weight of Stereotypes
As I navigate the maze of modern relationships, I have also discovered that society has a knack for imposing expectations on everyone, particularly when it comes to romantic relationships. For those of us who find ourselves single, this societal pressure can be akin to carrying an extra weight—a weight comprised of stereotypes, comments, and well-intentioned yet sometimes misguided advice. For many of us, especially women, this pressure starts early. As teenagers, even while we are warned to stay clear of boys, there is an additional layer of expectations heaped upon us by our African parents — the idea that we will soon be on the fast track to finding someone.
This dual messaging creates a unique tension where, on the one hand, we're advised to avoid romantic entanglements, while on the other, our existence is tangled in expectations of a partner. Comments like, "Keep yourself for your husband", "Learn how to cook for your husband”, "Bend down to sweep properly for your husband” and “With the way you are acting, is that how a man will see you and want to marry you?” These expectations create a sense of urgency, as if there's a ticking clock that we must heed, pushing us to make choices that may not align with our own desires and aspirations.
We find ourselves caught in the crossfire of concerned relatives, family or friends, all offering advice on finding "the one" as if it were a straightforward equation. I remember my aunt calling me a few weeks before my 21st birthday to tell me that I needed to start actively looking for a partner, so that I could marry before I turned 23 because she had heard that I was single.
One of the most frustrating aspects of this societal pressure is the prevalence of jokes and stereotypes about single people. These jokes can range from light-hearted banter to hurtful comments that cut deep. Friends may tease us about being the "perpetual single friend." Strangers who know little to nothing about us will also make irritating comments about our "independence" or even harmful insinuations that we're "too picky" or that something must be inherently wrong if we're not yet in a relationship.
While these remarks may be intended as harmless humour, they can carry a weight of their own. The danger lies in the fact that such jokes, even when made in jest, can reinforce the idea that there's something inherently wrong with being single. They can subtly imply that our worth is diminished because we haven't yet found a romantic partner. These stereotypes can be insidious, gnawing at our self-esteem and causing us to question our choices.
In the face of these pressures, stereotypes, and in my search for a romantic partner, I've come to realize that the decision to embrace singledom when you have not found what your soul is yearning for isn't about resigning oneself to loneliness or isolation. Rather, it's a conscious choice to focus on personal development. To build a strong foundation of self-worth and to understand that happiness and fulfilment should never be contingent on someone else. It's about recognizing that we deserve genuine connections that fulfil us emotionally and spiritually, whether those connections are romantic or not.
In the end, love is a complex and ever-changing concept, particularly in this digital age. As a 24-year-old navigating the maze of modern relationships, I have learned that the journey is just as important as the destination. It is about finding a balance, establishing boundaries, and learning to recognize when a connection is worthwhile to pursue. And, while I'm still a long way from practicing what I preach, particularly when it comes to love and relationships, I'm proud to say that I'm learning to love myself. To value my peace of mind while remaining willing to walk away if necessary. I'm also learning not to settle for less while actively working on becoming the best version of myself. It's about ensuring that when I eventually find my "just right" partner, I am not the less they're unwilling to settle for.
