NDRN: Why I'm Not Dating Right Now

You look happier, thanks Vogue said having a boyfriend is embarrassing

I’ve been actively not dating for two years.

I know that still no one believes me when I say, ‘i really, really don’t want a boyfriend’. So you can imagine my delight when Vogue ran the now infamous article by Chante Joseph titled ‘Is having a boyfriend embarrassing now?’.

Looking back, I’d say my choice of men has always been quite embarrassing, but this is more of a cultural shift. I’ve seen so many women share it. It feels seminal. Like the founding text of a new era for society.

The point of the article is that people who are in a relationship are hiding the fact that they have a boyfriend because being ‘boyfriend-girl’ in today’s world is honestly very unappealing. In the NDRN series, I want to look at it means to be proudly, unapologetically, a woman not dating.

What it means to become undateable, if you will.

I’m a busy woman.

Since choosing myself, I’ve bought and renovated a house, moved to Paris, grown my Substack, started writing a novel, developed business ideas, and planted flowers in my garden. I’ve never been happier, but I can’t shake the feeling the coupled-up don’t believe me.

We can often lose ourselves in our partners, and I’m especially partial to it. I started adding it up, and I’ve had a boyfriend for around 16 years of my life. That’s a lot of time not to focus on your own life. It’s not just the time I spend with a partner, but the time spent thinking about the relationship.

In the early days, thinking about nice things you can do for them, planning surprises, all the texting.

Then later, is this the person for me? Why can’t they just text me if they are going to be out late? Should we be having sex more? Should I just end it? It’s a lot of emotional headspace. For me, regardless of the stage of the relationship, I found it very consuming.

Oh, but it will be different if you meet the right person! Sure, maybe it would. I’m entirely open to that reality. But right now, I feel like I’m not the right person to be in a relationship. I don’t want to sacrifice a minute of emotional stability. I want to be greedy and selfish with the joy I create for myself.

Who’s Madeleine?

I could write an essay on every song on Lily Allen’s West End Girl album, and honestly, I might. But my overall takeaway is that relationships hold the potential for unimaginable hurt and betrayal.

I’ve been cheated on, and I’ve seen women shrink to skeletons with the anxiety of a cheating partner. I’ve suffered because a man felt inadequate. I’ve been to two “ghost hen parties” where the wedding was canceled, but we had the party anyway.

When I close my eyes at night, I cuddle my dog and drift off to sleep. I just couldn’t go back to lying next to someone thinking, ‘Are you hiding something from me?’

And I get it. That’s trauma. There’s always a particular element of risk in human relationships. You need to trust to build a connection. But the space of not dating gives me time to work on that without being another person’s trauma.

How are you still single?

At 37 years old, I’m all too aware of how the promise of happily ever after is often meaningless. I’m not ‘still single after all these years’. I’ve had relationships that have come to an end, in the same way that a marriage could end at any time. There isn’t an endpoint; relationship status is an eternal ebb and flow. I’m simply taking the decision to relax by the riverside and watch for a bit.

I’m not saying I’ll never date again, I’m saying not right now. This essay series is about navigating that, about choosing to opt out of a convention that doesn’t serve you. If you’re single and don’t want to date, single and in the trenches of dating, partnered and considering leaving, or happily coupled up and want to support a single friend, I hope you follow along. We’ll figure it out together.