I never imagined myself quitting dating, but the hope I had was not enough. Hope was no longer an ointment for the lashings I got despite my pure intentions.

Granted, I walked into the dating pool naive - I thought that not worrying about boys in my teenage years would give me better options in my twenties, but no. I struggled anyway.

I tried what my peers did, and failed. I embarrassed myself in the name of shooting my shot, I learned about red flags after experiencing most of them. I would feel stupid, but lick my wounds and start over, not allowing the negativity to change me. I spent hours on dating apps, taking photos, calling and texting the right amount of times to go on what I realise were mediocre dates. I 'spun the block' and felt palpable anger when it was not what I thought. I started disliking my appearance and personality, wondering what I did to not have good dating experiences like my peers. I even began to resent some of my peers for their dating success, silently comparing myself.

I wasted so much time on these things, treating my life like a prologue until the man of my dreams showed up. He still has not, but I see that life has moved anyway. Even as I've become 'invisible' due to weight gain, life has still moved. Lots of other good things have happened to me, so this is slowly becoming a drop in the ocean.

Slowly because I'm grieving. My years of daydreaming, time spent trying to look for 'the one', and looking at romance didn't get me anyone, in the end. My heart hurts for the younger version of me who was excited to have someone on her arm, spoiling and loving her. Even though I wrote a letter to future (current) me telling me not to fret if I'd still be single by 28, I still can't help but feel a mixture of anger and sadness.

As much as self-love has come through in the times I thought I'd need someone to help me through it, it wouldn't have hurt to have someone by my side. Self-love has also been tough once I realised that my standards should never be ignored; the pain of being alone is better than being with someone who made me feel alone anyway.

Reading books, listening to women's similar stories, and assessing how dating made me feel ultimately brought me to stop altogether.

I no longer want to experience 'all that pain so it's worth it in the end'.

I no longer want to defend why I am single.

I don't allow people to make me feel bad about being single.

I no longer feel less beautiful and 'valuable' because I don't have anyone.

I avoid dating content, like coaches, 'how-to', and 'why he won't' because it always makes me feel like the bad guy who needs an extra large magnifying glass to pick at imperfections. I try not to have conversations about relationships, since I don't know much about it.

I have learned to save and redirect all that magic and romance to life aspects with a tangible return on investment. I read romance books like any other storybook (once it's done, it's done).

It's not easy deconstructing - all the things I thought I needed to do, be, and say do not apply to my life anymore. I grieve this because I have to build a new foundation and hope it's strong enough for the rest of my life.

This may come across as jaded, but I feel like this is just a reality for me. Hope can only do so much; I also cannot control the behaviour of love interests in my life, so I simply need to keep on living.