Caught Me by Surprise

There’s a particular ache in watching someone else live out the chapters you’ve only just closed. I felt it recently, listening to one of my favorite TikTokers—thirty-five, single, scrolling and swiping in the digital wilds of online dating, calling out the classic red flags: the group photo profile (who are we even supposed to be looking at?), the lazy messages (“Why do you live so far?”), the grammar that somehow gets worse with every “sup.” I laughed in recognition, but there was a sting too—one I didn’t expect.

Later, I chatted with a co-worker about her latest dating attempt. “He was immature,” she told me, shaking her head. “Too many red flags.” She’s still on the apps, still searching, and I heard my own voice echo in her words—the voice I used to have. For years, this was the recurring refrain of my life: the frustration, the exhaustion, the endless carousel of profiles, hope, and disappointment. It’s a song I know by heart.

What caught me off guard, though, was the internal conversation that followed. A pang of guilt, sharp and sudden, sliced through my happiness. I realized, with a mix of disbelief and relief, that I wasn’t the single one anymore. I told my boyfriend about the TikTok and the conversation at work, but I couldn’t get the words out before tears blurred the edges of my vision. “That was me for twenty years and I’m so happy it’s not anymore.”

The truth is, loneliness had been my constant companion—its presence lingering in every quiet evening, every empty weekend, every gathering where I was the odd one out. It’s easy for well-meaning people to say, “It’ll happen when you least expect it,” but all I ever felt was the weight of waiting, the ache of wanting. 

And yet, in telling my story—first through blogs documenting every red flag, now through words spoken with the freedom of someone finally on the other side—I feel both the scars and the sweetness. I know the trauma that surfaces in conversations about dating apps and dashed hopes. But I also know the unexpected grace of relief, the strange guilt of happiness, and the quiet gratitude that my story has changed.

I recognize that the TikToker and my co-worker might not feel the way I did. Maybe they’re content in their singleness; maybe they’re savoring their independence or simply waiting for the right person. But I remember the loneliness that once consumed me, and I honor it now—not as a mark of shame, but as a testament to the journey I took to get here.

So this is my story: it was written in years of longing and late-night journaling, in awkward first dates and hopeful last glances, in tears shed and laughter shared. And now, it’s being rewritten in joy and connection, in honest conversations, and in the small, stunning relief of no longer being alone.

If you’re still out there, scrolling and swiping, searching and hoping—know that your story, too, can change. And when it does, it may surprise you with the complicated beauty of what you feel: not just happiness, but gratitude, relief, and maybe even a little bit of guilt for having found the thing you’d almost stopped believing was possible.

Sidenote: One of the biggest struggles I find when writing, is that I lack vocabulary. I plugged my original words (see below) into Co-Pilot to see what would generate (see above). The articulation is chef's kiss. It is how I aspire to write someday.

I was watching one of my favorite TikTokers talk about being single at 35 and using online dating apps. The first thing she mentioned was when a guy has a group photo as his main profile picture. No one wants to play the guessing game to figure out which guy this profile is for. She got a message from a guy that said, "Why do you live so far?" knowing already where she lives. Let's not forget about grammar/spelling when you're sending a message. 

I asked a co-worker how it was going with a guy she was dating. She told me that it didn't work out. She said he was immature and there were other red flags. She said she's on dating apps because it's so hard to meet people. 

I was caught off guard by my internal conversation listening to both the TikToker and my co-worker. 

This is my story and has been for 20 years. But guess what? It's not my story anymore. I was the one talking about how hard it is to meet people, the red flags, and the shit guys put on their dating profiles. I sure as hell was not going to comment or tell my co-worker that it'll happen when they least expect it. I would cringe whenever people said that to me. The most shocking part watching this TikToker and talking to my co-worker is that I somehow found myself feeling guilty for being happy and in a relationship. I felt this relief wash over me that I was no longer the single one. 

I was telling my boyfriend how I had watched the TikTok video and then the talk with my co-worker. I couldn't even get my words out because I started crying. I said, that was me for 20 years and I am so happy it's not anymore. 

I know how I felt being single. The loneliness consumed me every single day. In part, that's because I was alone for 20 years. That's not to say this is how these two feel. While they may want to meet someone, they could be perfectly content being single. 

I have no doubt the discussion of dating apps and red flags brought up some trauma for me. Hell, I started a blog solely to document the red flags.