I used to dread the 14th February every year for the same reasons any single person might: not only is it cold and dark, but you’re also bombarded with ways to treat your non-existent significant other, which may as well be calling you a lonely loser. When I was about 16, I remedied this by making it a day for myself, where I’d get dressed up nice, give myself presents and order a takeaway. It made me feel a bit better, but I still felt like something was missing. Over the years, I’ve learnt a few things about love, although I know it’s far from everything there is to know. This is my story, with those little lessons sprinkled in along the way. Look out for the phrases in bold.
When I first started college, my friends were talking about how exciting it is to not wear uniform and study their favourite subjects. While I also enjoyed college for these reasons, my objective for college was far more specific: find a boyfriend. As someone who’s always self-identified as a feminist, I was aware of how sad it sounded, but I don’t know, I guess I wanted to subconsciously prove that I could have one. I also felt like my life was a ticking time-bomb at the ripe old age of 16, where I would die alone if I finished college single (which isn’t true at all, by the way). I vividly remember sitting with my friends at college while they all gossiped about their relationship gripes. It had me thinking to myself, “How could they possibly complain? If I had a boyfriend, I don’t think I’d ever complain about anything again.”
The most ironic part about it, was that I was way too shy to actually make a move — my tactic was that I’d meet a boy I liked, they’d telepathically know I liked them, they also happened to like me, and we’d live happily ever after. There was a boy to whom I spoke over text daily for months, but we never spoke in person as he was also very shy. My friends told me that he must like me if he’s been talking to me for that long, so I should just ask him out, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. One of my friends was having a party, so I FINALLY gained the courage to invite him. He said no, but I never explicitly implied it was a romantic invitation, so it could have gone over his head…
I spent a large chunk of my college time worrying about being single. That was until one day, a friend and I went to a metaphysical shop where I bought a set of oracle cards. I had the option to ask them about any aspect of my life, where love was obviously the first and most important for me. The card I chose translated to “Don’t rush. You have so much time”, which deeply resonated with me. Really, I knew this the whole time, but it took the pressure off to reduce my life to whether someone loves me.
When I started uni, the same old logic returned. This time, though, I thought that “boys at uni will be so mature”, so there’d be no problem. Since everyone was freshly 18 and were having their first experience of complete autonomy away from their parents, I turned out to be very wrong. I was seeing a boy at the start of uni for a few weeks, during which time I had a tarot reading. I was told that she “couldn’t see anyone” in respect to my love life, and “I needed to learn to love myself before loving someone else”. Say what you want about divination, but it proved true both times.
Things ended badly with him. Over the next few years, I noticed that with many of my romances, even if I knew it wasn’t right, or I didn’t even like them, I would stay and still be upset when it ended. It’s hard to explain why — I suppose I subconsciously placed my self-worth into them, so a breakup became evidence that I was unloveable.
I’d been in two relationships last year that didn’t go to plan. The first one was ended by him, and though I was devastated at the time, I’m so glad he did; we weren’t compatible but I don’t think I would have had the guts to do it myself. The second one was ended by me, which I was very proud of. I know it sounds brutal, but it had only been a few weeks and I had a gut feeling that it wasn’t right. It was the first time I’d broken up with someone, and I saw it as a marker of growth. I then went on a date with a guy I met online, and I instantly knew he wasn’t right either. I was, once again, proud of myself for being honest, even if it disappointed him.
With all this romantic stress I’d put myself under in 2025, I’d learnt that being in a relationship isn’t all sunshine and rainbows, and they take work from both parties. In consideration of final year being stressful on its own, I told myself I wasn’t going to bother with pursuing anything for the next year. The phrase “love comes when you least expect it” must be true, because it was only then that I met my current boyfriend, Lewis, who is the happiest coincedence of my life.
Though we’ve only been together a short while, I learn things every day from being with him. He taught me that I didn’t have to settle for mediocrity, and if someone wants me, they’ll make it clear. It isn’t as if all of life’s problems have been erased like younger me had dreamt up, but I feel safe in the knowledge that I have someone who understands me. Even now, I do occasionally feel anxiety about it all going wrong, but the most important thing I’ve learnt about love, is that love is a gamble. Maybe it’ll work out, maybe it won’t, but I may as well enjoy the ride for what it is — I’ll learn things from it either way.
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