I am a 26-year-old with no failed relationships and yes, I have not always been single

Yes, you read that right. I am a grown-up working woman trying hard to adult and juggle between a lot of things which are meant to be set straight till the time you are 26. Your job, your finances, your love life, your family and so on.  Work is like it is for so many of my mid 20’s compatriots – a bit fuzzy, a bit fun, sometimes frustrating and at other moments somewhat satisfying. It’s going alright. I manage to save some part of my salary, thanks to my father who coaxed me to invest in a variety of savings plan. I have some SIPs going on, there is the old and trusted life policy from LIC and yes, the new and adventurous equity has also got a part. So, it’s pretty sorted from that end. I know, after reading the title of this story, you are more inclined to know how I have managed a feat very less can credit themselves with.  Each one of you must have had their share of obnoxious break-ups which ultimately led to bleary-eyed outpours in front of friends, fuck another “failed relationship” must have been the resounding cribbing dialogue of that drunk evening.

Break-ups happen. They are inevitable. The person you thought should have been the perfect match for you, turns out to be so not compatible that you finally think that it’s not worth investing in him/her. It becomes a dichotomy, a paradox, an unending stream of opposing emotions. You are messed up, and you inadvertently end up blaming yourself for that failed relationship. The 2 am giggles induced by those oh-so-adorable video calls are now 2 am hiding below the blanket crying sessions.  Your self-esteem plummets like the rupee and you think that maybe you are not worthy enough to be loved. Maybe it’s your complexion, it’s your height, that extra weight you put on, the way you talk, the way you look, or the things you told him when you were angry. Maybe you were too clingy, maybe you should have been restrained yourself a bit. Too many maybe’s revolving around your mind all ending at a single conclusion – another failed, fucked up relationship.

I too had my share of breakups. But now, when I think about it, none of that were the end of a failed relationship. It was the result of me evolving out from my emotionally vulnerable self to my mentally mature self. Every person who was once a part of my life, who was once the reason for all the misery I brought upon myself, was a valuable lesson when I look upon it in hindsight. The first guy taught me why valuing someone else in a relationship more than your own self is never a good idea, the second one taught me why I should have kept my well-being above his, and others were similar lessons in self-love. Each relationship taught me that putting myself first is the only key to happiness I can ever manage to find. I didn’t care about that, and that’s why it could not sustain. You see, you are the anchor to your own life and if you jump in the water trying to save someone else’s ship from sinking, you cannot help but drown. I drowned, and the guys were busy anchoring their own ships. My friends who were struggling to keep theirs afloat threw life-jackets in the water and I was out, thankfully. Albeit all drenched, breathless, hoping it would have been better if I would have drowned, but I was out. Once the cool breeze hit my face, slowly that depressing thought left my muddled brain. After too many careless jumps, I learned a very important lesson – never leave the anchor alone. Never ever put your own happiness on a secondary pedestal because if you aren’t keeping yourself happy, there is no one else who can. And more importantly, if you aren’t happy, if you aren’t loving yourself, forget that you can love anyone else.

If all the boys I loved, gave me such beautiful reasons to love myself, how could they be a part of failed relationships? Those relationships grew out on me, but they didn’t fail. I had break-ups, even some shitty breakdowns but those were not a question of my worthiness to be loved. Whatever I am, however, I am, maybe short-tempered, maybe fat, maybe not that good-looking, maybe not of a certain viewpoint – none of that makes me any less deserving of love. If all those boys taught me that, I must be stupid to call my time with them, “failed relationships”.

So, yes, I am 26 and didn’t have a single failed relationship, to date. If you think you had many, stop thinking that and focus on what those people taught you about your own self. Suddenly, you will be immensely satisfied with every small or big turn your life took. Try that. You will not be disappointed.

Cheers!

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