The high-cost of being single

On paying for it all, decision fatigue, and creating your own support system.

I've been thinking a lot about the cost of being single lately. I'm exhausted, and I'd like to know how much of that is due to needing to do everything alone. Or it could be part of getting old—constantly complaining about being tired and having random aches and pains.

But maybe it's also because everything falls on me—not only the bills but also the decisions.

Fuck cups I helped paint. Get yours at Salt Ceramics in East Hollywood or online.

The rent, the shopping, the utilities, all of it. I'm not splitting any of it with another person. If I'm lucky, I can borrow my friend's Netflix password until I get the dreaded "Your Netflix account is in use on too many devices" error code, and I know that as an unpaid user, I need to back the fuck out of that account.

Internet, gas, power, water, insurance, rent, it's all on me. No splitsies.

Filing your taxes as a single person, health insurance for one, phone bill for one. The charges add up. And they don’t stop.

Being alone is expensive, and, to a certain degree, it's more complicated, too. There's no division of labor. All the chores are yours—the laundry, cleaning, errands. You can't divide and conquer. Sure, the house doesn't get as dirty, and there isn't as much laundry to do, but you're still better off with a partner in crime than without.

Someone just mentioned that most women can’t expect a reduction in chores if they marry a man, meaning that men will do less than their fair share of the chores and will not contribute equally to the running of the household. And to that, I say, “fuck that.”

If he’s not pulling his weight, then you need to have a conversation about it. Sure, nothing will ever be perfectly 50/50, but getting close to a split that feels good to both should be the goal.

If being single is expensive and a lot of work, I can only imagine how a single parent must feel. I have so much respect for all the parents making it happen for their families; hats off to you. ❤️

I struggle with how the world is designed for couples, especially financially. Having a nice home (especially as a single parent) is much harder to achieve.

I remember traveling to Europe this past summer to attend a wedding in the Italian Dolomites (worth going to; check it out), and the hotel charged per person rather than per room. During checkout, I overheard a couple saying, "God damn, that stay was expensive as fuck."

Yes, girl, it was, and that's how it always is when you travel alone.

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PS, here’s a post I wrote about my tepid girl summer in Europe:

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And don't get me started on the fact that when single people share an Airbnb with a bunch of couples, we nearly always get shafted with the least desirable sleeping arrangements and charged the same as everyone else. "It's a cute Murphy bed in the hallway; you'll love it! Just remember to move your stuff out of the way at 8 a.m. each morning, thanks."

But I find the mental charge exhausting more than bills, chores, and traveling. I'm 100% responsible for every decision, all the time, every day.

Thanks for saying this. I'm 50 and single, and the decision fatigue I feel about life is overwhelming. When you add in my career, the people who work for me, and the friends and family who rely on me, it's never-ending. When I talk about this aspect of my life with friends, I get dismissive pushback, which hurts. Nobody has a perfect situation, partnered or not.

The flip side is having to consider your partner (and kids if you have them) in all your decisions, which is another type of struggle I don't have much experience with. But there's beauty in having constraints.

And yes, having no one else to take into account also means more freedom, too. But at what cost? I find the mental load of making all the decisions on my own taxing and exhausting.

At our last session, I discussed with my therapist how difficult things can be without anyone to rely on, especially when raising two children and having a professional career. She likened it to tightrope walking without a safety net. It is exhausting sometimes.

It's exhausting, especially when I'm terrified of making the wrong choice.

I can't lean on my partner when feeling low, overwhelmed, or stressed. I don't have a sounding board to bounce ideas off and iron out the pros and cons.

I'm not complaining; just contemplating how being single can be challenging.

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Speaking of being single, I’m done looking for love.

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I often struggle to make decisions because I don't have a sounding board or someone to take into account. This is likely a coping mechanism that I adopted in childhood, but man, it would be nice to have someone to bounce ideas off of.

I love having someone to share the inconsequential parts of my day with. Those moments in between the big moments are where real intimacy and knowing are built.

Right, not just the big decisions, but sharing in the mundane is something I take for granted. I have no one to quickly show a funny meme to or ask a question rather than Googling. But I also need someone to make big decisions with.

When I moved from Montreal to Flagstaff, and given the remote nature of my work, I could have moved anywhere. I didn't have a partner to say, "Please, not Arizona." In hindsight, I wish I had one to steer me away from Arizona but live and learn.

It's natural to want a sounding board, someone to lean on when things get tough. But this time of independence also offers a unique opportunity to deepen one's understanding of one's desires, values, and instincts. Learning to trust oneself, even through the fear of making "wrong" choices, can be incredibly empowering.

I've moved four times in ten years (San Francisco > Montreal > Flagstaff > Los Angeles), and there's something particularly exhausting about moving alone. I know, "What are you running from, Shaun?" and the answer is, "I'm not sure," but that doesn't change the fact that moving is stressful, and moving alone is even more so.

Sex would be nice.

Sex would be nice, yes. And the pursuit of sex through dating is also exhausting. The endless first dates and getting yourself pumped to meet someone will most likely lead to disappointment. The string of false starts, hopeful second and third dates, endless swiping and searching for anyone to feel exciting, safe, and cute enough to get naked with.

It's a lot.

Also, having a partner isn't the end-all-be-all solution to life. Every situation, even a partnership, has its pros and cons. Life is a compromise.

Not having anyone to consider when making plans can be overwhelming but liberating.

Go where you want, when you want. Wake up when you feel like it, eat crumbly toast in bed without anyone chastising you, and go to your favorite restaurant three nights in a row; there's no need to make conversation when you're feeling drained.

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I walked with a friend last month after an emotionally exhausting first week of a somatic leadership program we both signed up for. I told them, "I wonder why I'm still single."

They quickly replied, without overthinking, "Because you want to be."

"No I don't," I replied, quicker than anticipated. It was almost a knee-jerk reaction.

"Oh, that's the impression I got from you," she said.

Huh. Wild.

And so, I've been thinking a lot about my singleness these days and asking myself some questions.

• Why am I still single?

• What am I looking for?

• Do I even know what I want?

• Am I putting out the message that I want to be single?

• Have I gotten too comfortable in my life?

• Will I ever meet someone that I'm willing to commit to?

• Am I scared of intimacy?

And look, if you're asking yourself similar questions, I won't claim to have answers for you. But maybe you won't feel so alone asking yourself these questions.

But now that I'm in LA, I'm dating again—not a lot, but a little.

A little Feeld, a little Instagram, and a little dog park/coffee shop/IRL connections.

This gives me hope that I may not have to do it alone.

And we're never really alone. I have a solid group of friends, a few family members, a great therapist, and lots of community I can and do lean on. We can't do life alone—it's too much to handle.

Community and people will always be the answer for me. Nature will always be essential, but it's no replacement for communing with other humans.

Now, I need to find someone I feel safe around, someone I can be seen with, and someone cute enough to call my girlfriend. Do you know anyone?

PS Here’s what I’m looking for in a partner:

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Hey, thanks for reading. Please comment on what you find challenging about being single, what came up for you while reading this, or if you strongly disagree; I love hearing from you.