Is Galentine’s Day’s ‘friend first’ mantra bad for single women?

Sitting at dinner with a friend, we slowly made our way between courses, switching topics as we did so. Starters: work and play; mains: family and friends; dessert: relationships and fears. Dating, for both of us, had recently been uninspiring and frustrating.

We compared notes on the lack of suitable candidates and how whenever there was a modicum of interest, our needs seemed to be constantly at odds with what the other person wanted, which put us back to square one.

Our reactions to this, however, were vastly different. While I was refocusing my efforts on embracing a life of solitude, my friend admitted she longed for a relationship. Hearing her admit that, I did what I always did – I became the insufferable independent girl boss who rejected the idea of the “emotional woman” and forced my friend to see things from my perspective.

I am not alone in this either. At age 27, I am surrounded by the message that singleness is a positive experience. For my generation, so much of our identity is presented to the world by what we post – we are all “brands” now and are urged to make every aspect of our lives into “aesthetic eras”.

And where there is branding, there is rebranding. Look at us going to the cinema or an exhibition alone – don’t feel sorry for us; we’re not sad and single, we’re on a great “solo date”.

It will come as no surprise then to know that I have enthusiastically leaned into Galentine’s Day - the single girls alternative to Valentine’s Day - in the past. Why not? I think my female friendships are worth celebrating – who needs to prioritise romantic relationships when we have so many special connections in our lives?

It’s something I’ve written about a lot and has been my way of disrupting the love hierarchy. But, this year, I wonder if all of this effort has just been a way to silence some other feelings.

I have fallen victim to performative singleness – because I felt that if I did not stand for something, I was guilty of legitimising the status quo. Being single today has meant we must actively take a stance against coupledom, just so the whole world knows we’re totally unfazed by our single status.

But it has meant that we have also become complicit in another damaging narrative – one which says everyone who wants to be in a relationship is in some way needy and insecure. One of the worst things to develop from modern dating has been the great divide between those who openly yearn for companionship and those who have made their singleness a powerful statement of their being.

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It shouldn’t be shameful to say you’d like to be in a couple or sometimes feel unhappy about being single. The fact that many don’t, however, could be the reason behind my generation's perma-relationship crisis. This newspaper reported that 31 per cent of users of the dating app Bumble are now intentionally “slow dating” – seeing someone without a specific end goal.

Over on the dating app Hinge, 46 per cent of users are now avoiding any relationship conversation at all as they reportedly aren’t sure how to bring it up. Last week, an LA Times article with Usher went viral because, in this very cold and hostile dating environment, Usher spoke freely about romance and longing. A conversation on where all the true “yearners” have gone followed, perhaps as a backlash to those pretending to be over romance entirely.

Of course, those who believe that love will solve all their problems will inevitably be disappointed. However, I’ve grown to soften and admit that being single isn’t always all that. There are some aspects of relationships that I miss dearly – falling asleep in someone’s arms or someone just asking me how my day was. In a society that is still built for two, existing outside these parameters can feel like you’re at a disadvantage.

On an emotional level, being single sometimes feels isolating and considering how deep loneliness goes in society, we need to acknowledge that. Being the only single person in a friendship group is challenging, especially if you feel like you are a burden. Even from a purely economic perspective, the “singles tax” is not insignificant.

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From renting to travelling and even eating out, everything is cheaper when you are a couple – research by Hargreaves Lansdown found that being single costs £860 per month. And there is also the more practical stuff, like unloading the dishwasher not always being on you.

I am okay with my singleness and I don’t let not being in a relationship consume me. But there needs to be a reimagining of singleness as neither a signifier of shame nor strength. We are social creatures; from birth we want to be in a community with others. Yet, I am guilty of drowning out any gentle concerns shown by those who do want to share their longing for a relationship.

I am lucky enough not to have nagging relatives prying into my love life or lack thereof, so among friends, I can be quite dismissive of their feelings. It has been unkindness to not listen to them and instead insist they walk to my “single and proud” drum.

We are all people who can hold several feelings at once; this shouldn’t be seen as a stain on your character. So, if you’re spending Valentine’s Day alone and absolutely hating it, there isn’t anything wrong with you. You’re not a bad person, and don’t let people like the old me pressure you into wearing your single status like a badge. Our feelings will ebb and flow, so let’s embrace and celebrate that instead.