We were sixteen when my best friend got her first boyfriend. They met at an inter-school cultural competition—one of those fleeting teenage moments that feels cinematic only because it’s rare. She was dizzy with the novelty of male attention and companionship. Studying at an all-girls school, this was personal news and communal lore. What none of us knew then was that this would be the last time she would truly be single for a few years.
Boyfriends may be embarassing now but wanting a relationship is not a moral failing. Love, especially the kind that makes you laugh till your stomach hurts, is worth holding onto. But what began to stand out over time was not my friend’s desire for partnership, but her discomfort with being without it. She moved frantically from one relationship to the next, dating “for the vibes.”
After every breakup, she’d say, almost sincerely, that she wanted to be single and focus on herself, but the hiatus never lasted beyond a few weeks. Here was a woman who was formidable in every way, yet she seemed to lose her footing the moment she wasn’t tethered to a romantic counterpart. Ultimately, what she (and many of us) was doing wasn’t seeking partnership but avoiding silence.
Gen Z were among the first to grow up fully submerged in social media’s economy of validation, where intimacy is abundant but solitude feels suspicious. A thirst trap—or frankly, any photograph—posted at the right time can deliver a fresh batch of attention within hours of a breakup. Suddenly, there are new conversations, new flirtations and the familiar blur of a talking stage… a situationship… maybe even a bit of delusion thrown into the mix. It keeps you occupied enough to never have to face the aftermath of loss.
When singlehood is framed as a temporary waiting room, self-worth starts to live outside the self. “I’ll be complete when I’m chosen” becomes the governing belief, says psychologist Mehezabin Dordi of Sir HN Reliance Foundation Hospital. That mindset, she explains, clouds judgement and keeps people oriented toward approval rather than agency. Reframing being single as a learnt skill shifts the equation entirely. “When clients focus on themselves, their self-esteem improves,” Dordi says. Over time, emotional regulation, boundary-setting and consistency with oneself begin to register as markers of value.
This is where modern dating works against us. Situationships and extended talking stages, Dordi notes, act like psychological anaesthesia. They offer the sensation of closeness without the risk of commitment or the discomfort of being alone. “Uncertainty keeps the nervous system fired up,” she says, diverting attention away from self-reflection and identity consolidation. Stimulation gets mistaken for growth. When someone is only half-present, the harder questions stay conveniently unanswered. What do I need? What patterns do I repeat? Why does being alone feel intolerable?
Clinical psychologist Dr Gauri Raut of Dr LH Hiranandani Hospital pushes the distinction further. “Singlehood does not mean loneliness,” she says, pointing out that being in a relationship guarantees nothing emotionally on its own. When fear of loneliness drives connection, dependence often replaces stability. Singlehood, when chosen rather than endured, can instead become a route to emotional independence, steadier self-esteem and healthier relationships down the line.
