“You’re delightful,” I told the girl behind the desk at the meditation studio I frequent. Even though we’ve been exchanging hellos for several months now, we had our first conversation only a few days ago. It always takes me a minute to warm up to people, but once I do, I’m sold. I adore her now.

“Not everyone thinks so,” she shrugged in that twenty-something apologetic sort of way.

“Nor should they,” I reminded her.

She laughed, surprised at first, but after a moment of thought, she smiled and nodded. Her coworker, a kind man about ten years her senior, pushed her shoulder, raised his eyebrows, and nodded slowly.

“Not everyone is going to recognize,” he added.

“You know why I haven’t dated anyone in the last year in a half?” I asked and they both nodded. “I have a pretty good thing going on with myself that I don’t want to fuck up.”

It’s the truth. I’m fairly happy with my own company. Going back to school gives me a sense of purpose. I have a confidence I could never maintain with the few men I’ve seriously dated.

My inability to make them happy wore on my self-esteem. They also tended to focus on what I lacked, and I found the train of thought to be contagious. Pretty soon, all I could see was my faults.

For several years, I was terrified of growing old alone. This fear of perpetual loneliness used to keep me up at night, but I’ve been lonelier in relationships than I am right now. Right now, I’m pretty happy. I realize growing old alone is a far better fate than growing old with someone who makes you second guess yourself.

“But you’re not alone,” the kind man behind the desk corrected me. “You’re with us.”

He was right, and I wasn’t alone this weekend. I took this past weekend to catch up with the people I couldn’t spend time with during the busy fall quarter. I saw four different friends who see the best in me, who give me room to be my best self. And I have more to meet up with before the winter quarter starts.

I know that healthy romantic relationships exist, I’m not opposed to one, but I’m not desperate for one either. It’s just not the necessity I thought it was when I was younger. I’ve learned how to treat myself as my own best friend.

I’m comfortable spending time alone and enjoy the time to reflect or write. The good opinion of my own self is far more valuable than the good opinion of others. If someone were to take space in my life, their company would have to rival my own. Right now, that’s a pretty high standard to meet.