When I came into my freshmen year my life was so dramatically different. Day by day the first few weeks’ drug on as some of the worst days of my young adult life. One horrendous break up, spilled secret, frat party, and several nights spent crying myself to sleep later and I was done. I was done being sad. So with that, I no longer was. I wanted to flip my life upside down and spend less time focusing on boys and spend more time on myself. And it was the best thing I’ve ever done for myself.

There’s this stigma around single college girls. Basically if you’re single in what are supposed to be the best days of your life you are filed into two categories: pathetic or a slut. Why? Because I can say from personal experience that a lot of the time it can be easier to be in a relationship. It can be easier to cling yourself to a significant other, to stick with what you know and not put yourself out there. It’s a lot more difficult to force yourself to get over somebody and to not find another new boy to fill your empty void. I know because I’ve been there. I’ve avoided sadness by going to a party every night. I’ve tried to put aside the feelings of not belonging by running into a new boy’s arms. I promise you, it does not work. It’s hard to be on your own. The struggle, however, is so worth it.

It is ABSOLUTELY okay to take some time to do you. That does not make you self centered. That does not make you selfish. That makes you a healthy, normal, human being who is taking care of yourself. College is all about finding yourself, going on an adventure to explore who you think you are and transitioning to who you want to become. I’ve always had to grow up and handle some dark situations earlier than a lot of my peers but the past year I have grown up more than I ever thought I could in such a short period of time. I’ve meshed with people I normally never would have expected to be my best friends. I’ve tried new things: I ate snails, I went on ghost adventures, I tried frat punch, I ran my first (and second) 5K, I lost 15 pounds, I gained 15 pounds, I went cliff jumping (and then broke my back), and I’ve made a million memories along the way. And I’m not saying that a long-term boyfriend would have necessarily held me back from trying all of these things but I don’t know if I would have been motivated to do them all or felt confident enough with myself to commit to an adventure.

I am absolutely in love with love. I am a hopeless romantic and I want to spend the rest of my life planning weddings: the ultimate symbol of true love. But I also feel like it isn’t fair for me to expect someone to love me when I can’t even love myself. And without allowing myself to take a break from romance and just say “I’m just doing me” I would not be able to do that effectively. I’m always open to the idea of someone special down the road, whether that means tomorrow, two months, or two years. But I’m going to enjoy the ride down that road instead of spending it obsessing over what the boy in my Comm class thinks of my outfit or if that frat guy will ever ask me on a date. Having a person is something so special and beautiful but there is also a certain serenity to being able to Netflix and Chill by yourself, stretch out in bed, and fall asleep without the worry of what another person is doing at that very moment.

I’m single and guess what society? I’m cool with it. I’m not pathetic and I’m not a slut, and even if I was- it’s none of your damn business anyway.