I can tell Valentine’s Day is approaching because the stores are plastered in hearts, restaurants are on red alert and my algorithm is flooding me with think pieces about the state of the single woman.

Perhaps my internet search history for solo air travel and bulk kitty litter ratted me out.

Survey after survey shows that women across all age groups, divorced or never married, aren’t treating marriage as the default finish line anymore. We’re not rejecting men. We’re reexamining the assumption that a partnered life is the only legitimate one.

Personally, I don’t think about it much. I mostly go about my day, enjoying the small freedoms that come with autonomy. If I meet our deadlines and mom is OK, the rest of my time is spent hiking the Ocala National Forest or obsessing over my novel.

It’s been eight years since my last serious relationship, and the breakup was brutal. I decided to take time off to reflect and focus on me, and eventually the years passed and I’ve stayed single, without some grand plan.

It happened unintentionally over time, and it turns out it works. It’s not a manifesto. It’s simply an acknowledgment that a life, as it already exists, might already be enough.

Retiring to my very real Golden Girl Ranch collective feels normal to me now. What started as a joke became a backup plan and now is a viable strategy for the future.

The internet has definitely formed opinions about my lifestyle. A corner of the manosphere would gladly see me sent off to the “colonies” in a stage production of The Handmaid’s Tale.

I didn’t realize living peacefully and independently was suddenly destabilizing the ecosystem, or frankly anyone else’s concern. But here we are.

My bestie Melissa is just as boy-crazy as I am, but she is on a mission to retire, which takes focus and energy. My friend Autumn dates occasionally but doesn’t feel compelled to install the Bumble app on her phone.

We joke about our Sundays, lounging in solitude, streaming something mindless, staying in our pajamas.

This year Valentine’s Day lands on a Saturday, which means I’ll be bartending. That’s more money toward a trip to Europe in the summer for my 60th. Maybe I’ll meet the man of my dreams on the plane, or over a pint in a London pub. Or maybe not.

Either way, my cat Rocky will be waiting for my return, and that’s my life for now.  

Photos: Gina Horan