Ten Years Single: Lessons in Love, Loneliness, and Living Fully

"Why are you still single?" It's a question I've dodged, laughed off, and even asked myself more times than I'd care to count. For the past ten (plus…) years, I've been single. Not dabbling in situationships. Not navigating on-again-off-again dynamics. Just me, flying solo. And here's the kicker: it's probably been the most liberating, transformative decade of my life.

Looking back, I can see how this stretch of time has shaped me. The person I am now — the one writing this — is someone I genuinely like. But that wasn't always the case. Coming out of my last relationship, I felt lonelier than ever, deeply depressed, and questioning everything about myself. It was a relationship that didn't lift me up, and honestly, I wasn't ready for it. The person I was back then wouldn't have been able to meet someone where they deserved to be met.

This past decade has taught me lessons that no relationship could. Here are some of the greatest gifts of my single years.

The Power of Self-Discovery

In my twenties, I thought I knew who I was. I was wrong. The truth is, I hadn't done the work — the hard, messy, soul-deep work of figuring out what I wanted from life. Back then, I didn't set boundaries; I ignored red flags; I overcompensated, thinking love meant giving until I was empty. I'm not that person anymore. Years of therapy, sobriety, and focusing on my mental health have allowed me to meet myself fully — flaws and all — and realise that I deserve better, from others and from myself.

Knowing What Matters

When I stopped chasing the idea of love, I found time for things that genuinely fulfilled me. I've thrown myself into fitness challenges, built meaningful communities, and launched a business I'm passionate about. These things don't just fill my time — they fill my soul. I've realised that the people and activities that truly matter to me are the ones that leave me feeling enriched, not drained. And that's the standard I now hold for everything in my life.

The Gift of Independence

There's a certain freedom in being single that's hard to articulate. It's in the ability to design your life entirely around your own values. I've learned to love doing things my way, and not having to compromise on the things that bring me joy — whether it's blasting music while I clean, spending my weekends volunteering, or filling my calendar with projects that mean something to me.

Dating Isn't a Priority

Here's the truth: I've all but given up on dating. I don't use apps, aside from the odd research session for Get Out articles. In fact, I've only been on one or two actual dates in the past ten years. And you know what? I'm OK with that. The version of me that needed validation from a Grindr hookup, a Tinder match or a text has been replaced by someone who finds value in so many other things. Not having a romantic partner hasn't left a void in my life; it's created space for everything else that matters.

Lessons in Compassion

Looking back, I know I've met some incredible people along the way. But I wasn't ready for them, and that's OK. They deserved someone who could meet them fully, and I wasn't that person yet. I've learned to look at past versions of myself with compassion. That person wasn't broken — they were just in progress. And while I can't change the past, I can celebrate how far I've come. I'm probably ready now, but it would take someone special to catch me off guard and remind me what's possible.

Learning What Doesn't Work

For a long time, I chased the wrong men and sought attention that didn’t satisfy me because I thought if I didn’t, I was somehow doing gay life “wrong.” I convinced myself that to be part of the community, I had to prove I was edgy, bold, and fearless. I forced myself into situations I didn’t enjoy, pushing boundaries not because they felt authentic, but because I thought they were expected.

The truth is, I always felt worse afterward. It was hard, forced, and left me questioning myself more than celebrating who I was. Yet, through all those awkward encounters, bad decisions, and uncomfortable moments, I gained clarity. I spent so much time working out what didn’t work for me that I finally arrived at a place of peace. There are no lingering “what ifs” or regrets.

While the last decade had its share of massive lows, I’ve come to see those experiences as necessary steps on the path to where I am now. I’ve learned that saying no to what doesn’t serve you is just as valuable as saying yes to the things that do.

Redefining Love

I used to think romantic love was the pinnacle of human connection. I don't believe that anymore. My friendships — deep, enriching, fiercely loyal — are every bit as meaningful as a romantic partnership. My relationships with family, colleagues, and the communities I've built have shown me that love comes in many forms, and all of them are valid.

Hope for the Future

Am I open to love? Of course. But it would have to be the right person — someone who doesn't complete me but complements the life I've worked so hard to build. I've learned not to settle, not to chase, and not to force something that isn't right. And if that person never comes along? That's OK too. My life is already getting pretty full.

Your Time is Precious

If I've learned anything, it's that time is your most valuable resource. How you spend it — and who you spend it with — defines your life. I choose to spend my time making an impact, building something meaningful, and living authentically. And that, to me, is the greatest love story of all.

Navigating Relationships in the Modern Gay World

If there's one thing I've come to understand deeply, it's how uniquely complex relationships can be within the gay community. Our experiences, shaped by decades of societal pressure, discrimination, and the pursuit of identity, don't often fit into the tidy, traditional boxes of love and commitment. Instead, we've created our own frameworks — ones that are fluid, nuanced, and sometimes challenging to navigate.

Sex, drugs, PNP (party and play), consensual non-monogamy, and the rise of dating apps have all left their mark on how we connect. In many ways, these aspects have expanded what relationships can look like. They've allowed for more freedom and self-expression but have also made the landscape more complicated. The rules aren't always clear, and the boundaries that work for one couple might be completely unthinkable for another. That's both the beauty and the challenge of it all.

Loneliness, though, is often the shadow side of this freedom. In a community where connection should thrive, the paradox of feeling isolated is all too common. I've seen how apps, designed to bring us together, can sometimes leave us more disconnected. I've watched as drugs and party culture promise euphoria but leave many feeling emptier than before. And I've learned that while non-traditional relationships can work beautifully, they require even greater levels of communication, trust, and mutual respect to thrive.

I've also noticed how the scene itself — the clubs, parties, and endless social events — can create a sense of belonging while simultaneously demanding more than some of us are willing or able to give. For me, stepping back from it all has been liberating. It's given me the clarity to see what I truly value in connection, and it's made me more open-minded about what a relationship might look like for me in the future.

Whether it's a monogamous partnership, an open relationship, or something entirely different, I've learned that the "rules" don't matter as much as the connection itself. At the end of the day, it's about finding someone who understands you, respects your boundaries, and wants to build something that works for both of you. And while I might have a healthy distance from a lot of it these days, I'm still rooted in the community, keenly aware of its intricacies, and deeply invested in its potential to foster meaningful relationships.

This understanding doesn't make me an expert in the clinical sense, but it does come from years of observing, listening, and reflecting. It's from seeing how loneliness affects us differently, how our freedoms can be both a gift and a burden, and how love in the gay community continues to evolve. Whatever the future holds for me, I know one thing: the foundation of any relationship I build will be rooted in authenticity, understanding, and a respect for the unique challenges of our community.

This isn't a manifesto against relationships or a celebration of singlehood above all else. It's simply my story — one of learning, growing, and finding peace in a life that doesn't follow the traditional script. And if there's one thing I'd want anyone reading this to take away, it's this: however, you choose to live, make sure it reflects who you are and what you value. That's the only measure of success that truly matters.