I was terrified that I would be the last single woman left among my friends. Then I reconciled with him Eddin or Connell

FBetween the ages of 18 and 21, I spent a lot of time crying at a local nightclub in the small town of Listowel in Ireland. The reason I was crying was because all my friends were withdrawing and I wasn’t. If I could go back in time, I would talk to myself sternly, give myself a break and say: ‘Of course no one is trying that – you’re sobbing Celine Dion in the corner.’

At the time I was terrified of becoming the last solo friend in the girl gang. I was terrified of being left behind, abandoned to a man in jeans and brown dress shoes. Every time a friend announced, “I have a date,” my body would stop. Then I found myself in a relationship. While my friends were out of town, living the free, single life, I was staying in, lying under a duvet with my partner, eating takeaways and feeling proud that I didn’t need to use a dating app.

Despite my domestic relationship, the fear of being the only friend lingered in my gut. Deep down, I knew the relationship wasn’t right and I was clinging to its comfort. I didn’t want to be left alone, but, like death or a botched home dye job, it seemed inevitable.

A few years later, I was single and almost 30 years old. Some of my friends are married, some are engaged, some are pregnant, and I’m the last single person in their friendship group. I finally became the entity I feared when I was 28, after my relationship fell apart. A week after the breakup, I sent a voice message to my boyfriend, crying about how scary I feel when I’m alone. She asked me if I’d been singing Celine Dion lately. “You’ll never be alone,” she told me. “Not when you’re with us.”

But I felt alone. Once the wave of sadness started to dissipate, I was ready to face the world. I wanted to wear short skirts and drink alcohol and be a jerk in smoking areas. I was like a zoo animal that was released into the wild. But a few friends wanted to embark on this journey of self-discovery with me. They did all this while I was in the midst of comfortable love; Now it’s time to hibernate. They talked about weddings and houses, while I talked about one-night stands. Realizing that I was on a completely different path than most of my friends was devastating and brutal.

Being the last single friend in the group seemed lonely, so I started to believe it. Family and friends will do everything they can to pair you up. I went on dates when I wasn’t ready, convinced it would somehow benefit me simply because people told me so. One of my loved ones said they were worried that I was isolating myself from “finding the right person” and that I should “open up more.” So, driven by the fear of being alone, I tried. But every caress made me feel worse. Even though I told my friends and family that it was too early for me to date, for some, it was like I was a prized cow at the county fair. Wherever there were men – at weddings, parties or even funerals – I was introduced. Being the last single friend became my person.

Then came the realization. Deep down, I knew I wasn’t really afraid of being single or alone — but I didn’t know how to be at peace with myself. This 18-year-old woman was looking for solace in others, and she couldn’t face the peace of her identity, and at 28 years old, not much has changed. So I retrained my brain.

Over the past year, I’ve indulged in solo lunches and dinners, drank wine in loud bars, visited art galleries, gone on long walks and gotten to know myself better. I have come to find true joy in singleness. I no longer felt ashamed or afraid of being the only person in my friend group, and the thought that I was made me feel down. I’ve realized that I have stories worth sharing and news to celebrate, even though my life’s milestones may differ from those of my peers. I make sure they listen. I have freedom and fun. It’s a liberation I’ve never known before.

So, if I could, I would go back in time to the nightclub in my city in a heartbeat. I would tell an 18-year-old to stop moping, but I would also wipe away her tears. I’ll tell her not to worry. She wasn’t alone. She never was because she was with me. I was always there.