The Fear of Being Single: A Closer Look
Did you know that there exists a scale specifically designed to measure the Fear of Being Single (FOBS)? This concept, introduced by psychologists in 2013, sheds light on how an overwhelming fear of being alone can significantly shape romantic decisions. Research has shown that individuals who score high on the FOBS Scale are notably more inclined to remain in unhealthy relationships and often lower their standards in dating, all in a desperate bid to find companionship. In essence, some people would rather endure a toxic relationship than face the prospect of solitude. This notion is utterly perplexing to me, akin to conversing with someone who believes the Earth is flat.
As someone who has spent nearly a decade single, I find myself so far removed from the FOBS Scale that it appears merely as a distant speck on the horizon. In fact, I possess an intense and crippling fear of not being single. The longer I remain unattached, the more difficult it is for me to envision a desire to enter into a partnership again. I worry that after prolonged exposure to the single life, I may have developed a form of relationship intolerance.
Finding Comfort in Solitude
Every friend or family member I have supported through a breakup has expressed sentiments like, “I’ve been in a relationship for so long, I don’t know how to be single!” Conversely, I find myself in the opposite situation. Having been single for so long, I now feel uncertain about how to navigate the complexities of a relationship. You might be thinking, “Well, Kate, just stay single then.” However, I genuinely fear that my prolonged state of independence has made me oblivious to potential relationship opportunities that might come my way.
In a way, I wonder if I am maintaining my single status out of fear of entering into a relationship. If I were to suddenly find myself with a boyfriend, even if he were delivered to my doorstep with flowers and an offer to fix my plumbing, I would likely be fine at first. Yet, once he had completed his tasks, I would start to feel an overwhelming anxiety about having another adult in my space for the long haul.
To clarify, I am single, not celibate. I can comfortably handle casual encounters, and prior to my knees giving out, I enjoyed the occasional one-night stand. However, the thought of being in a serious, committed relationship sends me into a panic akin to the dread associated with root canal surgery or the embarrassment of public exposure.
The Joys of Single Living
Living alone has rendered my life beautifully simple, and I intend to keep it that way. The thought of sharing my bed, cleaning up after someone else, or becoming a caretaker for another person is utterly unappealing. It’s not merely about the spatial considerations; it encompasses emotional and mental boundaries as well. I feel more authentically myself than ever, and I have no desire to compromise that sense of self. Even if I had a partner who lived in a different home, or even a different country, I would still reject the notion of filtering the nuances of my daily life through someone else’s approval—a necessity in any relationship.
Perhaps it’s a byproduct of being in my 40s and settling into my ways, or maybe it’s due to the chaos and pain that previous relationships have brought into my life, but I have reached a point of being completely done with romance. Some might label me as “anxious avoidant” or a “commitment-phobe,” but I prefer to see myself as independent. It has taken a considerable amount of time to embrace my single status as a positive aspect of my life.
Breaking the Stigma of Being Single
Growing up in the 90s, I was inundated with messages from shows like Friends and Sex and the City, which celebrated coupling as the ultimate goal. Movies such as Bridget Jones’s Diary reinforced the notion that being single equates to failure. The stigma surrounding singlehood was pervasive—and it still is. However, here’s the truth: it’s all a facade. Being single is not just acceptable; it’s absolutely fantastic.
As children, we were often warned about the childless woman who lives alone with her cat, labeling her as a witch. But now, I view her as an icon of independence. As a single individual, I have the freedom to go wherever I want, do whatever I please, at any time, and in any manner that suits me. My decisions are mine alone, free from the need to consider a partner’s jealousy, bad moods, or the dynamics of their family and friends. My home reflects my choices; if it’s messy, it’s because I made it that way. If I decide to tidy up, it stays tidy. I am accountable solely to myself, and the only person who might chastise me for staying out late is me.
The Reality of Modern Singlehood
What’s more, I am far from alone in this perspective. Globally, marriage rates are on the decline, and the number of individuals living alone has reached unprecedented heights. Research indicates that women generally adapt more effectively to single life than men. A study conducted in 2024 revealed that single women report higher levels of satisfaction with their relationship status, life satisfaction, sexual satisfaction, and a lower desire for a partner compared to their male counterparts. Furthermore, single people of all genders tend to enjoy a more diverse social life, often possessing a broader circle of friends and stronger familial ties.
Interestingly, research from 2022 also highlighted that single individuals over the age of 40 are the happiest among all singletons. This could be attributed to the fact that those who have remained single this long are often the staunchest advocates of their independence—while others may have opted for dating apps and quick fixes. Good luck to them; I have no intention of joining that crowd any time soon.
I occasionally ponder whether my steadfast commitment to singlehood is a defense mechanism in response to the parade of unsuitable partners I have encountered in the past. While I acknowledge that my reluctance to entertain even the slightest possibility of a relationship may not be entirely healthy, I find immense happiness in my current situation. The truth is, I wouldn’t even know how to act in a relationship if one were to present itself at this point in my life. My first experience with a boyfriend was at the tender age of five. Our interactions were minimal, and we hardly saw each other outside of school, merely sharing sandwiches at lunch and proclaiming ourselves a couple. I think I could manage that level of connection again, but anything beyond that seems daunting.
