Everytime someone asks me these kind of questions, I don’t know what to say, I freeze, and I didn’t answer right away. Not because I didn’t know, but because my mind tried to dress the answer up into something impressive. Something productive. That hesitation told me more than the question itself.
When I answered honestly, it was simple. The last time I truly lost track of time was a night out dancing with friends on my best friend’s birthday. Music loud, body moving, phone forgotten. I wasn’t trying to document it or make it mean anything. I was just there. And I remember how light I felt afterward.
That made me realize something uncomfortable. Most of what I call “fun” lately is just recovery. Scrolling when I’m drained. Watching something because I’m too tired to think. It passes the time, but it doesn’t feed me.
When I pay attention, real play shows up the same way every time for me. Dancing, because it pulls me back into my body. Writing, because it lets me disappear into my own thoughts. Both make time dissolve. Both leave me more energized than when I started. Neither needs an audience to count.
Somewhere along the way, I started treating play like a reward. Something I save for birthdays, weekends, or when everything else is handled. Even the things I love, reading, watching a show I know I’ll enjoy, I keep pushing to later, as if joy needs to be earned.
So I’m asking myself this now, and maybe you should too: when was the last time you did something purely for play or fun? Not to cope. Not to be productive. Just because it made you feel alive. If the answer feels far away, that’s not a failure. It’s an invitation.
Hmm… It is kinda, but also not exactly what I imagined it as. 😶
A year ago, I thought life would feel easier. Lighter. More fun. I imagined myself traveling more, floating through days with fewer worries and more stories. That did happen, but not exactly. What did happen was quieter and harder to explain. Life didn’t get easier, but I got steadier. The chaos reduced, not because circumstances magically improved, but because I stopped gripping things so tightly. The ease I expected externally showed up internally instead. I travelled with my friends, and I have spent a lot more time with them this year. 🩷
I thought by now I’d have fully let go of resentment toward people who wronged me. The truth is, letting go isn’t a clean switch. It’s a practice. I’ve learned how to not carry people with me everywhere I go, but that doesn’t mean the memory never visits. What’s different is that it no longer controls my decisions. I don’t live in reaction anymore. I live in choice. That alone changed the texture of my days.
Professionally, this year humbled me. I expected a promotion. I worked for it. I wanted it. And it didn’t happen. Positions closed. I didn’t clear certain tests. Sometimes I wasn’t eligible at all. On paper, that looks like stagnation. In reality, it taught me patience I didn’t know I lacked. It also forced me to confront an uncomfortable truth: ambition doesn’t always get rewarded on your timeline, and maturity is learning how to stay engaged without becoming bitter.
Emotionally, I surprised myself. I cry now. Not publicly. Not dramatically. Just honestly, with myself. I didn’t do that before. I used to pride myself on being composed, resilient, unfazed. This year showed me that empathy isn’t weakness when it’s directed inward. Letting myself feel didn’t derail me. It grounded me. I became softer without becoming fragile.
Writing became my unexpected anchor. I didn’t plan for it to save me. It just did. In the middle of career disappointments, team changes that didn’t excite me, and the constant background noise of adulthood, writing gave me peace. Not validation. Not applause. Peace. I wrote my first story this year, and more importantly, I didn’t quit. That feels bigger than any external milestone I missed.
If nothing changes next year, my creativity will be the first thing to suffer. I see that clearly. I’ve been intentional with my life, but intention alone isn’t enough forever. The next version of me needs structure, discipline, and care for her body as much as her mind. This year wasn’t about becoming who I imagined. It was about becoming someone I’m no longer willing to abandon. And that feels like the beginning of something real.
Lately, I’ve realized that the biggest lessons I’ve learned didn’t come from books, advice, or big moments. They came quietly, through exhaustion. I’ve learned that my energy drains much faster now when I’m in places or around people who don’t match my vibe. Earlier, I would stay longer, try harder, tell myself I was being too sensitive. Now I feel the discomfort early, and I don’t argue with it. That awareness has become a skill in itself.
I’ve also learned how to walk away without explaining myself. This didn’t come from confidence; it came from fatigue. Conversations that irritate or anger me don’t get my time anymore. I no longer feel the need to clarify, justify, or soften my exit. I learned to set up boundaries and telling no more firmly. I leave because staying costs me more than leaving ever did. It’s not dramatic. It’s just self-respect in action.
Over time, I’ve become very good at spotting people who aren’t real. Especially those who are overly sweet with everyone. That kind of kindness used to confuse me, and I always thought there is something wrong with me to not like someone who is loved by everyone. Now I recognize it as performative. I’ve learned to trust my discomfort around people who charm easily but lack depth. This hasn’t made me cynical…. it’s made me selective. I don’t want access to everyone, and I don’t want everyone to have access to me.
When something disappoints me deeply, my response has changed. I withdraw first. I need space to process things on my own, without noise or opinions. And then, once I’ve absorbed it, I push through. I don’t fall apart the way I once feared I might. I keep going. That combination of withdrawal and endurance is something I didn’t consciously develop, but it’s there now. Quiet. Reliable.
One thing I genuinely respect about myself these days is my ability to walk away from what doesn’t serve me and stand my ground on what I believe in. Even when it’s uncomfortable. Even when it costs me closeness. I didn’t always have that kind of loyalty to myself. I learned it slowly, by choosing my peace over being understood.
A harder lesson I’ve learned is to stop expecting help and understanding from people. This one still stings. Not because people are cruel, but because they’re often unable to meet you where you are. Letting go of that expectation forced me to rely on myself more than I ever thought I could. It wasn’t empowering at first. It was lonely. But it made me stronger in a very quiet way.
Emotionally, I’ve changed too. I’m no longer scared to acknowledge my own feelings. I may not share them openly, but I don’t deny them anymore. I know what I feel. I accept it. That internal honesty has been one of the most important shifts for me. Even if no one else sees it, I do.
For a long time, I thought I hadn’t handled anything significant because there were no obvious markers of growth. No applause. No visible breakthroughs. But looking back, I see years of silent work. I carried my mental and emotional struggles without letting people in. I kept showing up. I kept becoming more myself. That invisible endurance is something I never planned to learn, but it’s shaped who I am now more than anything else.
I always used to think, no one inspires me. I don’t admire anyone. There was no human dead or alive that made me look at them and think that I want to be like them.
I used to think admiration was about liking someone’s personality or being moved by their kindness. Turns out, that wasn’t true for me. When I really sat with the question, I realized the thing that sparks my admiration isn’t charm, talent, or even confidence.
It’s long-term consistency.
Not the glamorous version people post online. I’m talking about the unsexy kind: showing up when it’s inconvenient, boring, or emotionally heavy. The type of consistency that builds something bigger than the person who started it.
Two women make this painfully clear for me: Katrina Kaif and Hailey Bieber.
Both of them walked into industries that could have swallowed them whole. One was a nepo baby and the other was deemed as only a pretty face. Both were seen as not talented enought. Both had narratives attached to them that could have reduced their entire identity to someone else’s shadow. And they could have stayed there—pretty faces, famous boyfriends, famous husbands, easy stereotypes.
But they didn’t.
They built. They evolved. They stayed consistent long enough to create something that wasn’t dependent on anyone else.
Katrina built Kay Beauty with steady, methodical focus that took years, not months. Hailey built Rhode with the exact kind of discipline people underestimate until the results become impossible to ignore.
Here’s why that hits me so hard.
It’s not just admiration. It’s recognition.
What I admire in them is what I want from myself: the ability to build something that outlives phases, moods, relationships, or excuses. The ability to choose discipline even when life throws setbacks, sickness, or self-doubt into the mix. The ability to rely on myself as my own source of stability, identity, and growth.
Consistency isn’t glamorous, but it is powerful. And every time I admire it in someone else, it’s really a nudge toward the version of me I’m trying to grow into—someone who shows up for her work not only when she feels inspired, but especially when she doesn’t.
Is Having a Boyfriend Embarrassing Now? Or Are Women Just Finally Choosing Themselves?
I was scrolling Instagram (yes, again 😭) when reels about a new Vogue article started flooding my feed. The headline was loud enough: Is Having a Boyfriend Embarrassing Now? by Chanté Joseph. Women were stitching, reacting, and laughing about how “uncool” relationships suddenly feel.
And I’ll be honest — I understood it immediately. I used to feel embarrassed every time I had a boyfriend. I felt smaller, softer, less myself. Maybe that’s why I’ve been single for years and genuinely living my best life.
Chanté writes: “This is also happening alongside a wave of women reclaiming and romanticizing their single life. Where being single was once a cautionary tale (you’ll end up a “spinster” with loads of cats), it is now becoming a desirable and coveted status—another nail in the coffin of a centuries-old heterosexual fairytale that never really benefited women to begin with.”
She’s right. But that’s only the surface. There’s a deeper cultural shift happening, and it’s worth unpacking.
Let’s talk about it.
Is Having a Boyfriend Actually Embarrassing?
Not really. What’s embarrassing is dating someone who lowers your energy — or becoming a smaller version of yourself to keep the relationship alive.
Here’s why the idea has gained traction:
1. Many relationships look low-standard
A woman who’s driven and interesting ends up with a guy who looks lost, sloppy, or unambitious. The mismatch is what people cringe at.
2. Too many women lose themselves in relationships
When your entire personality turns into “my boyfriend,” it reads insecure, not romantic. Losing your edge isn’t aspirational.
3. Relationships became content
The curated TikToks, the performative affection, the need to prove happiness — it all looks forced.
4. Independence now looks aspirational
Freedom, standards, options — that’s the vibe. A relationship can look like giving that up, even when it’s not true.
5. Most couples aren’t inspiring
They’re settling for each other, not elevating each other. People pick up on that instantly.
6. Your partner reflects your taste
If he’s a mess, people silently assume you are too. The judgment falls on women, not men.
7. The “boyfriend” label still carries outdated baggage
Clinginess, predictability, emotional drama — a lot of people still associate the role with all that.
A relationship only feels embarrassing when it shrinks you instead of expanding you. And society is finally saying it out loud.
How Patriarchy Shaped This Feeling
Women aren’t rejecting relationships because it’s fashionable. They’re rejecting the blueprint patriarchy handed them.
1. The girlfriend role was designed to make women smaller
Be patient. Be sweet. Be forgiving. Be supportive. Men weren’t taught to reciprocate, so relationships felt like emotional labor camps for women.
2. Men weren’t raised to be good partners
Patriarchy didn’t teach them emotional intelligence, accountability, or how to care for someone. So a lot of modern relationships feel imbalanced and draining.
3. Women get judged harder for their partner’s flaws
If he embarrasses himself, it reflects on her. Patriarchy made women responsible for men’s behavior — and women know it.
4. Independence is finally real
Women used to need men to survive. Now they have money, careers, friendships, autonomy — so relationships are optional, not mandatory.
5. Being single signals power, not failure
It reads as self-respect, freedom, and individuality.
6. Men aren’t matching women’s growth
Ambition, emotional maturity, discipline — many men are behind. The gap is the embarrassment.
7. Women want to be met, not claimed
The old model of men “claiming” women doesn’t land anymore. Women want equals, not owners.
So no, the idea of a boyfriend isn’t uncool. The idea of stepping back into a patriarchal girlfriend role is.
How Women Are Breaking Free
This isn’t “girlboss energy.” This is women refusing to play roles that never served them.
1. Ambition over approval
Women are building lives that don’t revolve around being chosen. Money, career, lifestyle, identity — they come first.
2. No more lowering standards
One red flag and she’s gone. That’s autonomy, not coldness.
3. They’re done romanticizing struggle
No more mothering grown men. No more emotional heavy lifting.
4. Self-investment is the new norm
Skills, solo travel, fitness, career growth — women are investing in themselves the way men were once allowed to.
5. They’re more interesting single than with the wrong man
Being single lets their identity breathe.
6. Stronger female networks
Women now rely on each other for emotional grounding. That’s powerful.
7. Rejecting the “girlfriend aesthetic”
They don’t want to be accessories or caretakers. They want to be the protagonist.
8. Calling out mediocrity
“If he can’t meet me where I am, I’d rather be alone.” That’s not hostility. That’s clarity.
9. Redefining adulthood
Marriage and kids aren’t the finish line. Self-defined life is.
Bottom Line
Women are breaking free by finally living like they matter more than the roles patriarchy gave them. Not aesthetically. Not performatively. But in real, tangible ways.
Conclusion
Women aren’t embarrassed by love — they’re embarrassed by the outdated relationship model that required them to shrink, compromise, and center a man’s needs over their own. With independence, ambition, community, and financial autonomy, women no longer see the traditional girlfriend role as aspirational. A relationship is only worth having if it expands their life instead of minimizing it. Anything that pulls a woman back into a version of herself she’s outgrown feels uncool — not because she’s anti-love, but because she’s done disappearing into someone else’s story.
