Being Single on Purpose
Being single on purpose means choosing self-knowledge over anxious searching — and why that builds a better life and eventually better relationships.
Being single on purpose is a choice, not a waiting room. John Kim (Single On Purpose) reframes the single period as one of the clearest windows for self-discovery available to an adult — and self-determination theory backs him: autonomy and self-knowledge are among the strongest predictors of later relationship quality. The work you do now is not separate from your relational future; it is the foundation of it.
Singlehood is not a deficit — it is a position
The dominant cultural story about being single is that it is a problem to be solved. That story does measurable damage. Sara Eckel (It’s Not You) traces much of the shame single people carry to internalised cultural scripts — being coupled equals success — rather than to any honest reading of their own lives. Gottman’s decades of relationship research found no personality type that is inherently unlovable or relationship-incompatible. “Broken” and “incomplete” are not findings; they are narratives, and you chose to adopt them.
What changes when you drop the narrative is not your situation but your posture toward it. Instead of asking “what is wrong with me?” you can ask “what do I want to build?” — which is a question with answers. John Kim’s central reframe is this: singlehood is an opportunity, not evidence of failure. The opportunity is to learn yourself well enough that you eventually bring a clear person, rather than a hungry one, into a relationship.
The self-worth trap in dating
Here is the mechanism Eckel identifies and it is worth naming plainly: when your self-worth is contingent on relationship status, you make anxious, self-defeating choices in dating. You tolerate incompatibility because leaving feels like proof of unworthiness. You perform rather than reveal yourself, because the stakes of rejection feel existential. You stay in bad situations because half-a-relationship seems safer than none.
Kristin Neff’s research on self-compassion is the antidote Eckel reaches for: self-compassion is not self-congratulation, it is the stable, non-contingent regard for yourself that does not collapse when someone does not choose you. Once self-worth is unhooked from partner status, the dating calculus changes. You can evaluate a potential partner against your actual standards rather than against the fear of ending up alone. Our full piece on self-worth and dating standards covers how to apply this concretely.
Solitude as a method, not a mood
Sara Maitland (How to Be Alone) makes an argument that sounds counterintuitive until you sit with it: solitude is the prerequisite for genuine self-knowledge. Not because isolation is a virtue, but because a life permanently filled with social noise never gives you a still surface to look into. You cannot find out what you actually think, feel, or want if every quiet moment is immediately filled with distraction or other people’s needs.
The practical version of this is not meditation retreats or moving to the countryside. It is smaller: spending time with decisions that are entirely yours, noticing what you want when no one is watching, tracking the preferences you suppress to fit another person’s idea of you. Journalling accelerates this. Therapy does too, because a therapist holds up the mirror while you look.
The relational payload is significant. People who know themselves — who can name their needs, their non-negotiables, and the patterns they tend to repeat — enter relationships with something to offer beyond just availability. They are also far less likely to lose themselves once inside one.
Love is wider than romance
Sara Eckel draws on loving-kindness meditation to make a point the Endearist perspective fits naturally: romantic love is one form of love among many. Single people who treat friendship, community, and daily encounters as genuine sources of love — rather than as consolation prizes until the real thing arrives — report higher wellbeing and, perhaps more importantly, carry less desperation into dating.
Desperation is a problem in dating not because it is unattractive (though it often is), but because it overrides discernment. When you need a relationship to feel complete, you will select and tolerate accordingly. Invest in building deep adult friendships and the emotional stakes of any individual dating situation drop to a manageable level. This is not a consolation move; it is the architecture of a genuinely full life.
References
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Reference Single On Purpose
Kim, J. (2021). HarperOne.
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Reference It’s Not You: 27 (Wrong) Reasons You’re Single
Eckel, S. (2014). Perigee.
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Reference How to Be Alone
Maitland, S. (2014). Picador.
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Reference Self-Compassion: The Proven Power of Being Kind to Yourself
Neff, K. (2011). William Morrow.
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Reference Self-Determination Theory: Basic Psychological Needs in Motivation, Development, and Wellness
Ryan, R. M., & Deci, E. L. (2017). Guilford Press.
FAQ
Is being single on purpose actually healthy, or is it avoidance?
It depends on what you do with the time. **John Kim** (in *Single On Purpose*) draws a sharp line between intentional solitude — using singlehood to build self-knowledge and a full life — and avoidance, which uses busyness or serial dating to escape discomfort. The diagnostic question is whether you are moving _toward_ something (clarity, growth, honest desire) or running _from_ something (fear of intimacy, old pain). Intentional singlehood is healthy. Indefinite postponement disguised as a choice is not. Honest self-reflection is the only tool that tells them apart.
How do I know if I am ready to date again, or if I still need time alone?
You are probably ready when **a relationship sounds genuinely appealing rather than just safer than loneliness**. Sara Eckel (*It's Not You*) argues that anxious searching — dating from a place of 'I need this to feel whole' — consistently leads to poor partner selection, because the urgency overrides discernment. A more reliable signal: you have rebuilt at least some satisfaction in daily life, your friendships feel nourishing rather than compensatory, and the idea of dating feels curious rather than desperate. See our piece on [healing before the next relationship](/en/blog/healing-before-the-next-relationship) for a more detailed framework.
Can you be happy and single long-term?
Yes — and the research is less surprising than the culture pretends. **Self-determination theory** (Deci & Ryan) consistently shows that **autonomy**, competence, and relatedness predict wellbeing, not partnership specifically. Single people who cultivate strong friendships, meaningful work, and self-directed goals report life satisfaction comparable to partnered peers. What tends to make long-term singlehood hard is not the absence of a partner but the absence of intentional investment in the other two pillars: friendship and purpose. Single and fulfilled is not an oxymoron; it requires design.
What does 'self-discovery while single' actually look like in practice?
It looks like **asking questions you have been avoiding**. Sara Maitland (*How to Be Alone*) argues that solitude is the prerequisite for genuine self-knowledge — not because isolation is virtuous, but because a life permanently filled with social noise never gives you a still surface to look into. Practically: spend time with decisions that are entirely yours (what do you cook, where do you go, what project do you start?), notice what you feel without an audience, and track when you suppress preferences to fit someone else's idea of you. Journalling and therapy both accelerate this.
How do I stop feeling like singlehood is a failure?
By identifying whose verdict you are accepting. **Sara Eckel** draws directly on **Kristin Neff's** work on self-compassion: much of the shame attached to being single is internalised from cultural scripts (being coupled equals success) rather than from any honest reckoning with your own life. Gottman's research found no single personality type that is or is not suited to relationships — 'incompatible' and 'broken' are not traits you carry, they are stories. The reframe is not 'I am fine without a partner' but 'my worth was never contingent on having one.' That second version is the one that actually holds.
Does being single on purpose make you better at relationships later?
The evidence points to yes — with a caveat. **Self-determination theory** links self-knowledge and autonomy to **relational authenticity**: people who know what they want, and feel secure expressing it, tend to choose partners more accurately and manage conflict more honestly. John Kim frames this as bringing a clearer self into a relationship rather than hoping a relationship clarifies you. The caveat is that singlehood only does this work if you use it actively — passive waiting produces familiarity with solitude, not self-knowledge. The growth is in the engagement, not the status.
Is it selfish to choose to be single?
No — and that framing reveals the assumption worth questioning. Treating singlehood as selfish presupposes that partnership is the default social contribution of an adult. It is not. Choosing singlehood to invest in friendships, creative work, community, or your own healing is **relational in a broader sense** — it enlarges what you bring to every relationship you do have. See our piece on [deepening the friendships you already have](/en/blog/how-to-deepen-a-friendship): single people often invest more consistently in non-romantic bonds, which is genuinely good for the people around them.
How do I deal with pressure from family and friends about being single?
Separate what they are _saying_ from what it _activates_ in you. Family pressure about singlehood rarely contains new information; it usually activates **your own ambivalence** about the choice. The productive work is getting clear on your reasons — not to rehearse a defence for Christmas dinner, but so that the pressure lands on a conviction rather than a doubt. Once you are genuinely settled in the choice, the comments lose their sting without you needing to counter them. If the ambivalence feels persistent and distressing, [loneliness without shame](/en/blog/loneliness-without-shame) explores the emotional texture underneath that ambivalence.
What is the difference between enjoying being single and being afraid of intimacy?
The difference is in what you feel when you imagine closeness. **Fear of intimacy** typically shows up as relief when relationships end, avoidance of vulnerability even in friendships, or a pattern of selecting emotionally unavailable partners. **Enjoying singlehood** looks different: genuine investment in your own life, satisfaction in friendships, and openness — even if unrushed — to the idea of a good relationship. The distinction matters because the two can look identical from the outside while requiring opposite interventions. Therapy is the most reliable way to distinguish them; self-honesty is the starting point.
How do I build a fulfilling life as a single person?
By treating friendship as infrastructure, not a consolation prize. **Sara Eckel** argues that romantic love is one form of love among many, and that single people who cultivate loving-kindness across friendships, community, and daily encounters reduce the desperation placed on finding a partner — which, counterintuitively, tends to make eventual partnership more likely and more stable. Practically: invest in two or three close friendships the way a couple invests in their relationship. Our guide on [how to make friends as an adult](/en/blog/how-to-make-friends-as-an-adult) covers the mechanics of building those connections deliberately.