I’m ever-so rapidly approaching my four year singleversary.
What is a singleversary? Well, it is what it sounds like, the anniversary of when you last became single.
I came up with this term one year after my most recent break-up. So much had happened in that year! I was a completely different person, but I was lonely.
I originally developed this idea to poke fun at myself. One year of being alone, cue the sad piano! Where’s the french fries? I’ll hit the town in pants that are entirely too tight and really diminish what little butt I do have instead of enhance it.
But as I have become older, I blame turning twenty on all of these new resolutions, my singleversary has become less sad and more exciting.
I did all of this on my own. All of this growing and maturing was me. I worked hard to get to where I am today, and the road certainly wasn’t easy.
This isn’t to say that there were no boys along the way. There certainly were, but nothing to write home about. Nothing worth noting. But as I distance myself more from my past relationships I can see myself as my own woman. A complete entity separate of any relationships.
This vision of myself is something I don’t want to taint. I am complete without my “other half.” I am uniquely, imperfectly-perfect. A God-created, grace-filled miracle.
Single jokes will always be there. I think they’re funny. But they aren’t self-deprocating.
Honestly, being this content is fulfilling.