“I am 35. I am single. And I f*cking love it.”

35 and single
The stereotype of a single woman. It’s bullshit.





I am 35. I am single. And I f*cking love it.

There I said it.

Let me explain. Recently I was welcomed into a new friendship group.  These women are awesome. Smart, funny, intelligent, feisty and opinionated. I love them. But over cupcakes, talk eventually turned to pity talk and how hard it would be to be single and older than 30.


I sat quietly, hoping no one would notice that I was the only one in that very predicament.  I was frozen. How could I tell these wonderful women that what they were being fed was utter crap and that I was actually remarkably happy.

Don’t be scared. This post, isn’t what you think.

It’s not a laundry list of why men are shit. I really love men. Or an homage to all the things you do, in that secret single time you have at home. It’s a guide to understanding that some of us are happy with our love life, just the way it is. So before you start to conjure those stereotypical images of women, daring enough to utter such a phrase.  Let me tell you a little about myself.

35 and single
Hells to the yes.

I have a small, tight knit family. I have a Masters degree. I am one of the lucky few who can say, “I have done the very things I dreamed of doing when I was young”.

I have loads of friends. My parents are totally fine with my life choices – which is code for, I don’t have parents that are breathing down my neck to marry Mr Right. A rare luxury, I know.

When I was a teenager, I told everyone I knew, I loved being single. In response. I got those knowing looks “You’re young, that will change.” Part of me believed them.

In my twenties, I dated. There was love, there was heartbreak and there was lots of drama, but nothing seemed like forever. I was utterly content in a relationship and I was happy on my own.

And now I’m in my thirties, I am in a world of weddings. I noticed that when my relationship status was discussed, unless I had a frown on my face, and pretended to be sad about the lack of a plus one, the bride would shift nervously in my gaze, visibly questioning the choice she had just made in front of 100 plus people.

It’s as if single pride equals married hate. It doesn’t have to.

Single is still scary to the vast majority of smug marrieds out there. I’ve consumed to many bottles of wine trying to understand why they are so threatened. I just don’t get what all the fuss is about. I think I must have been smoking cigarettes behind the bike shed when they gave the talk on sexual politics. It’s all so confusing.

So, why did I stop saying I was single and proud? It’s not like I didn’t think it anymore.

I reckon, it was because I had become aware that I was unintentionally offending my friends. That was never my intention. I love the fact they have found love and I wish them well.

35 and single
This is what my life is like. Single. Fierce. Fabulous.

I just think that sometimes people “settle” and in The World According to Grace if you get your shit sorted first, the rest just falls into place. There is a certain kind of serendipity about it all. We don’t all have to be the marrying kind. How boring would it be if we were all the same?

My message is this: it’s okay to be proud and single. To be financially independent and pleased about it?  To rock up and have the time of my life, dancing to Daft Punk, on my own at 3am.

It’s not like I don’t ever want to be in a relationship again. I just really like where I am now, and I would be totally fine if that never changed. I am out and proud about the fact that I am not waiting for something to happen. I am making it happen. And I don’t mean by being on RSVP.

I reckon this makes me well adjusted. Someone you should want to date.

So promise me, the next time you meet that single girl at a wedding/party/anything, high five her, because I guarantee you, she is probably very happy about where she is in the world right now.


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