I had watched my fair share of rom-coms growing up. While the thick of the plot is the romance, it was always the main female leads that left a lasting impression—who she was, what she did and who she became by the end of it. From Jenna Rink in 13 Going On 30 to Sex And The City’s Carrie Bradshaw, I was enamoured by their vigour for life as they embarked on an introspective journey to self-discovery, albeit with the entanglement of romance in the midst of it all. It was the moments of them dressing up, stepping into the city and seeing the world through their personal, untainted lens that I cherished and pined for.
These formative moments on-screen quietly shaped my idea of love, but upon adulthood life eventually took its course and reality struck. The romanticism wore off, packed in a box and shoved into a cobwebbed corner of my mind. That is, until I came across the idea of solo dating. A subtle trend had taken off within the social landscape—taking yourself out on a date. A quick scroll on social media shows clips of people reading at a cafe, taking a walk in the park, or trying a new activity alone. Maybe it stems from how exhausting modern-day relationships feel, as women are known to jump through hoops of red flags (like emotional manipulation, cheating and abuse, just to name a few) for the slightest chance at love. The result? A shift in focus, inward. Time spent chasing someone else was now spent on pursuing oneself.
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As a single person, seeing the idea of solo dating online peaked my interest. I was naturally used to going places and running errands alone, but a date? The thought never crossed my mind. The idea of taking myself out to eat, exploring a museum exhibition or going to the cinema alone instantly reminded me of the rom-com leads I once admired on the silver screen. Nothing could dim their self-confidence and keen sense of self. Inspired, I decided to give it a shot.
It was a challenge at first. The agenda started small to build familiarity—a stop at the coffee shop nearby or a visit to a small bookstore, before finding confidence for bigger-ticket activities like exploring museums or watching a film. The lack of company proved to be a double-edged sword. With nobody else to consider, it was all too easy to brush off initial plans or put in minimal effort. At the same time, I didn’t have to put up a front since nobody was paying attention. I became my own audience.
Being your own plus-one
I soon realised intentionality was still key. Embarking on solo dates meant I had to show up—for myself. It required conscious effort to get up, dress up and be there for my own sake, just like I would on a date with someone else. Surprisingly, the act of taking myself out to eat or self-exploring neighbourhoods never once made me feel lonely. With no one else around, the only person I could turn to was myself. These moments of solitude allowed me to be comfortable in my own skin, accepting my own presence like a dear, old friend. A quiet, self-assuring reliance slowly blossomed, establishing a steady cadence in my life. What did I really want to eat, see, or do? For once, I got to see the world through my own lens with no interference. It was a form of privilege I hadn’t experienced before.
Food (and space) for thought
Naturally, when you’re on your own, your thoughts can’t help but be a silent companion that’s constantly by your side. It seemed like a daunting presence at first. It was easy to let myself spiral into the everlasting doom of existentialism, societal expectations, or the haunts of global crises (the list never ends). But control is simply a muscle that needs to be stretched and used before becoming pliant. Spending time alone gave breathing room for these thoughts to hold space. Rather than letting them fester, I gave them a chance to exist, be present and be whole. These are my thoughts, I told myself, and here they are. Over time, the calming presence of these thoughts fleshed out into reflections and perspectives that fill my own cup.
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No permission needed
If there were anything solo dating rewarded me with, it’s autonomy. I was able to fully govern my own wishes and desires, and nothing held me back from doing so. With no particular attention paid to me other than my own, I had discovered a new side to living an independent life, leading myself wherever I felt like going. The routine of solo dates gave confidence to every decision I made, sure of my opinions and assured of my reasons. I had nobody to fall back on, but it was never an issue. Only when I was in full control did I feel fully free.
So if you ever see me dining alone, just know I’m exactly where I want to be. There’s a deep, unexpected joy in your own company, a kind of power that only you can give yourself. No one else can replicate that. And if you’re capable of loving others as wholly as you do, then surely you’re capable of turning that same affection inward. That, to me, might just be the most romantic act of all.
