Meeting Someone When You’re a Loner.
People love to say it will happen when you least expect it. They say it with confidence, like it’s a universal truth even though they met their partner in 2016 at university (not a dig). It’s made to seem there’s some invisible conveyor belt delivering partners straight to your door the moment you stop looking.
But… where does it come from if you’re not on dating apps?
I live the same routine every day.
I wake up. I go to work. I go to the gym. I run around like a headless chicken going from one kids club to another. I do the weekly food shop.
That’s it.
Unless this mystery person plans on appearing between the cheese aisle and the reduced section or breaking into my house with flowers and emotional availability, I genuinely don’t know where this is supposed to happen.
There is no spontaneous social life. No last-minute drinks or random nights out. I don’t have childcare on demand, so I rarely go anywhere that isn’t practical or necessary. In the random blue moon event where I do go out, it’s alone because all my friends are settled down, wrapped up in their own family rhythms.
Life can feel small sometimes.
Whilst I’ve come to accept that this might be it. That it might just be the two of us, and most days, I’m okay with that. We have our own little world with our routines, our laughter, and our own ways of getting through hard days together. The life that I have gives me a feeling of strength knowing I built this life for us. If that’s truly it, if this really is how it’s meant to be, then why do I still yearn for a family unit?
Why do I imagine someone else at the table?
Why do I picture shared evenings, shared decisions, shared weight?
Why does part of me still hope for a person who sees me not just as “mum” or “strong woman” but simply as me?
It’s confusing to hold the weight of aceptance and longing. Being grateful for what you have while quietly grieving what you don’t.
I don’t feel desperate or incomplete. I’ve built a full life with limited resources and a lot of resilience, but in the next breath, I do feel human, and humans want connection. They want to be chosen, and they want unity. We want someone to understand we need help without having to ask for it.
Maybe meeting someone happens when your life finally has enough space for it, or maybe it doesn’t happen at all, and you learn how to make peace with that while still allowing yourself to feel the ache.
I don’t have answers.
I just know that somewhere between school runs and gym sessions and supermarket queues, I’m still holding space for the possibility even while learning how to be okay if it never arrives. Maybe that’s where I am right now, not waiting, but accepting, with a quiet hope tucked away in my pocket.
–Emilia
Hi, I'm Emilia Isabelle 
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