I woke up, looked at the empty side of the bed and thought ‘poor me’. ‘Poor me’, I don’t have someone to share my bed with, share my hopes and dreams with, to kiss good morning and good night. Then I had a more frightful thought. ‘Am I failure because I have not met my life partner?’

It was a Sunday morning when I headed out to get my caffeine hit.  The coffee shops were thriving with happy, loved-up, annoying couples. In my mind they were ever so annoying because they had what I wanted, what I was searching for, and I couldn’t grasp why I couldn’t have it too.

I am a successful business woman, relatively hot, have pretty good fashion sense and hygiene is high on my agenda—what more could I do? Was this an area of my life where I would have to accept failure? Had my need for a pity-party been vindicated because getting what I want was beyond my control?

With my very large take-away coffee for one, I headed home to the solace of my apartment and to allow my ‘poor me pity-party’ to be fully explored. My mood was reinforced when I thought about what my friends would be doing—all those that were married with kids. Why have they got it? Why can’t I have it? my brain kept screaming.

I am not envious by nature, but this was eating me up inside. Did I need a life coach, a wine or a slap across the face to fully understand what I was thinking and what it said about my life? Was it a door that I was prepared to open and in my vulnerable state would I be able to deal with the implications, with the reasons why these feelings were impeding me living my life? Maybe I would have to accept that I was a failure.

I contemplated discussing this with my friends and family to determine whether they believed me to be a failure, but swiftly dismissed the thought as a Pandora’s Box that I would never be able to fit the lid back onto.

As my tears pushed my latté to overflowing, I looked deep inside to find who was calling me a failure. Was it my friends? Was it society? Was it my family? Or even worse—was it me?

From a young age there is a dream instilled in little girls. Maybe it comes from playing with Ken and Barbie. Throw in some rom-com’s with the perfect happy-couple-ending and I was getting a better insight into our search for the perfect partner. Add to all this the desire to share your hopes and dreams, and not having met your life partner by a certain stage in life could very well spell failure. If you let it!

Suddenly the adrenalin kicks in coinciding with my massive gulp of coffee as I looked at the flip side.  What are the benefits of not having a partner?

I pulled out my journal and madly scribbled:

  • I can lie diagonally across my bed.
  • I can kiss Peter, Paul or Harry—in fact I can kiss them all.
  • I say who, I say when, I say how—I just say!  (steady on there Pretty Woman!)
  • High-octane rock climbing, I will learn to love heights.
  • Take-away, chick flicks, big, baggy tracky pants—oh yeah, now you’re talking.
  • Deep-sea wreck diving —look out Skipper, here I come.
  • Professional Frisbee thrower, soccer, sure, why not—I’ll try them all. 

As I started Googling Frisbee classes, it was at that moment that the penny dropped.  It’s in the midst of adversity that we really discover who we are, rather than when life is clear-sailing. It was here that I realized that during the times that I am single I allow myself the most growth.

Perhaps it was society, maybe my friends and family did think it, but none of that really mattered. To label being single as a failure was where the issue lay. It’s not my status that defines my success or failings, but what I choose to believe in life.

At some stage, everyone has their own ‘pity-party’ and has to stare what they believe to be failure in the face and make a choice. Everyone has their own struggles whether married or single, with kids or without—each just has a different face.

So, does this mean I don’t want to meet someone?  Hell No. I want the rom-com happy ending.  Maybe I will meet him tomorrow, but then again maybe I won’t meet him at all. I also know my pity-party and I will meet again.

Now, with my new-found awareness, when my head hits the pillow and the room fills with darkness, I whisper aloud my nightly wish ‘God, maybe tomorrow will be the day that I meet him, maybe tomorrow I will meet the one’.