Why a Year of No Dating Was the Best Thing I Ever Did for Myself.
By Jessica Kaufman in The Elephant
Journal
December 5, 2016 -- Several years ago,
when I was living in NYC, I met a bunch of women who were doing this “year
of no dating” thing.
No sex, no crushes, no seduction—just
showing up in the world as a platonic sister to all. No hopeful texting, no
“will he kiss me or won’t he,” no fantasizing about anyone sparkly and new.
At first, I was horrified to hear that
people were doing this on purpose. Why deny yourself the life-changing power
and magic of falling in love? The prospect of intentionally abstaining from
romance was as inconceivable to me as sobriety is to an active alcoholic. Love
is what got me through! It seemed like agreeing to live life without anything
nice—like back rubs or vacation.
Several years ago, when I was living in
NYC, I met a bunch of women who were doing this “year of no dating” thing.
No sex, no crushes, no seduction—just
showing up in the world as a platonic sister to all. No hopeful texting, no
“will he kiss me or won’t he,” no fantasizing about anyone sparkly and new.
At first, I was horrified to hear that
people were doing this on purpose. Why deny yourself the life-changing power
and magic of falling in love? The prospect of intentionally abstaining from
romance was as inconceivable to me as sobriety is to an active alcoholic. Love
is what got me through! It seemed like agreeing to live life without anything
nice—like back rubs or vacation.
I talked to these gorgeous, capable,
satisfied single women, and listened to their stories. Before I knew
what I had decided to, I’d set a date to stop dating.
That meant calling it off with the
brooding blonde man from Boston who I started seeing in order to numb the
pain of my recent divorce. It meant not filling my self-worth meter with the
affections of someone new. It meant showing up to social gatherings committed
to going home alone.
Every night. For a year.
Something inside me screamed and cried
and seriously doubted that I could make it and that’s when it hit me—I had been
using love as a substitute for self-worth.
Why be alone if it meant doubting I was
worthy of someone’s love, anyone’s love? Why should
I have to face that?
I hadn’t been sans-crush since middle
school. I’d been bookending relationships since high school. My heart was like
a grocery list: I need to get Sean. Nope, Tommy. Nope, Elisha. Nope, Jimmy.
Nope, Dave. Nope, Allison.
Relationships fueled me to the point
that I didn’t know what else I could run on. And I didn’t know any of this
until I put them all down.
When I quit dating, I experienced
serious withdrawal. First, from Boston guy, then from my ex-husband, then from
the affair I’d had at the end of my marriage. Like layers of an onion, back and
back and back, until one day I felt cleaner than I’d ever felt before. I felt
fresh, light, open, new, and me. Those ghosts just weren’t with me anymore.
I felt myself in a fullness of presence
that, for whatever reason, I hadn’t been able to feel while I was pushing
around a shopping cart full of romantic yearning and unprocessed relationships.
Taking serious time off allowed me to pick everything up out of that cart one
at a time, look at it for what it was, and put it back.
I didn’t just walk away from my cart for
a new one, or burn down the store. I did the work in a way that you can only
really do when you’re single for a long stretch of time.
An amazing thing happened during that
time—I came to realize that I could access the gifts of “a year of no dating”
any time I needed it. While I don’t think everyone needs to take a whole year
each and every time, I do recognize how valuable it is to take some time. A
significant amount of time, meaning: you have to look at what’s in your cart.
What have you been pushing around? Or
has it been pushing you? Are you tempted to abandon the cart, burn down the
store, or (what I believe my most recent ex is doing) just add another
beautiful, shining, heart-expanding item to the pile?
Don’t get me wrong; relationships are
great. They are powerful teachers and offer us so much deep joy and growth and
understanding. But until you’ve really known what it is to find that joy,
growth, and understanding without the catalyst of a new
relationship, I think that part of you will always remain unknown to yourself.
Like a forgotten drawer or corner, it piles up with the detritus of what you
haven’t unpacked, and you—not to mention
your future relationships—will have to navigate around it forever.
My last boyfriend and I broke up five
months ago, and I’m healing. My work now is to be single again. For a while. I
need time and space to make sure that I continue rebuilding my life without the
influence of my next “big relationship.” I need to get my new business off the
ground. I need to continue to work the steps in my recovery program. I need to
finish nursing the wounds my last relationship left in me, and I need time to
further understand why I said yes to that relationship when both of us knew it
was going to be a struggle. Most of all, I need time—real, seasons-passing
time—to get used to my life’s rhythms as an unpartnered person (though I might
not choose to be totally celibate this time around!).
When I meet my next serious partner, I
want to be as free and healed-up as possible, to have had time to process not
just the breakup with my most recent ex, but the overarching patterns in
my series of adult relationships. I owe that to myself, and my next partner
gets it as a side benefit of choosing someone as wise and mature as me, ha!
It’s been difficult to watch my last two
exes move right into their next big things, but no one can be the arbiter
of how other people are doing it. I’m sure it feels as right to them to move on
quickly as it does to me to slow that train to a halt.
I believe there’s power and strength in
solo time, and I’m amazed that it took me so long to figure that out.
So if you’re afraid, or curious, or
willing, take your time. Try it out. Say no for now, if even
part of you thinks that you could use a break.
Find your wholeness before you find your
next love. It will serve you for the rest of your life.
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