Is There Room for Someone Else When You're Really Good at Being Alone?

I’ve spent the last few years turning solo living into a lifestyle I love, cherish, and am fiercely protective of. What used to feel like a lonely phase, even sometimes like punishment for not being “good enough,” is a full, layered life overflowing with self-love and so many possibilities. I travel alone, take myself on dates, routinely make big decisions without consulting anyone but my gut (and sometimes tarot cards), and still love cooking for myself.  

But there are also things about this lifestyle I don’t always want to admit, especially to myself: sometimes, the thought of letting someone into this world I’ve built feels very scary. Not because I don’t believe in love or partnership, I absolutely do! The fear creeps in because this version of my life, the one where I take up all the space and do exactly what I want, feels safe. 

No one would ever deny that there is an immense amount of freedom in being single, in only consulting yourself on how every part of your life unfolds. I don’t have to explain the whys of what I do. Like, why do I spend too much on fancy olive oil? Why do I wait until the last minute to buy plane tickets? Why am I rotting on the couch all weekend?  Why can’t I just put my mugs of half-drunken tea in the sink instead of leaving them on various surfaces?  Today, I only answer to myself that kind of autonomy is intoxicating.

But because overthinking is my greatest superpower, I often ask myself: Have I built a life so focused on my own comfort that I don’t know how to truly make space for someone else anymore? Do I even want to?  And when I say truly, I mean building a life together. Not just a summer fling or a few dates here and there. Even if I continue to live alone. Having to consider someone else, their thoughts, their desires, and their needs seems like such a daunting task, and frankly, mostly like a pain in the ass. 

I feel like no one talks about this enough. After years of being single, falling in love again, or even the idea of it, in addition to fear, it can come with hesitation and even a little bit of grief. A grieving of one’s rituals, independence, and freedom. It doesn’t mean you don’t want love. It just means you know what you’d be changing and giving up to make room for it. 

Et c’est pas facile. 

I sometimes worry that I’ve gotten so good at being alone that I won’t be able to bend, to share, to live in an intimate world that doesn’t revolve only around me. I wonder if I’d resent someone for disrupting my peace. Or worse, what if I bend too much and forget what I learned about myself in all these years of building my solo life. 

One thing I tell myself, which usually helps until the next existential crisis, is that being good at being alone doesn’t make me unfit for partnership. It makes me more aware, more intentional. It means I won’t rush. It means I’ll choose carefully. It means I won’t betray myself or my values. It means I will hold on too tightly to my solitude.  It means I know how to protect myself. It means I have the strength to walk away if I need to. It means I know what I need and what I won’t settle for.

Because deep down, if I think about it and I’m honest with myself and whoever is reading this, I’m not scared of love. I’m scared of losing myself. I’ve worked too hard, come too far, built too much to give it all up so easily. But maybe real love, the kind I’m open to now, won’t feel like I’m losing anything. Maybe it will fit right in, without overpowering me or changing me?

I can only hope that the next version of romantic love in my life, however it shows up, won’t be so quick to ask me to let go of solo life. They’ll just wait patiently for me to say, “Ok, come on in. But first, can you please help me take off my armour? Be gentle, it’s heavy.” And without hesitation, they’ll step up to the challenge. 

Until then, I’ll be here. In my kitchen. Cooking for one. Dreaming of what’s next, while reminding myself that what’s next will not compete with or dismiss everything I cherish about my life. It will simply enhance it, and to that I say oui.