It’s official. Being single in your 30’s might just be the worst title one can have today. And before any of my feminist friends lose their shit at me for this declaration, hear me out first.

You see, I’ve been quite comfortable moving through life at my own single speed. Sure, I’ve had a few great “almost, maybe” relationships, but none of them ever ended in “happily ever after”. And that’s okay. Because being single is fabulous, right? You can do whatever you want, whenever you want. You don’t have to share anything. Or compromise. You get the entire bed to yourself. And my favorite part- every day is literally brimming with the excitement of the possibility that you could meet THE ONE. In other words, when you’re single, you almost feel like the rest of your life is still one big, exciting question mark, and your future is still full of unlimited possibilities (I know, I know- que Natasha Bedingfield’s Unwritten).

Okay, so maybe that’s just my only child syndrome showing, or maybe it’s my selfish nature to usually put myself first. And do every little thing myself (because who else can it better, right?). But more importantly, maybe it’s because in today’s world, I have to question how anyone could ever make another person happy, without first being happy with themselves. Sure I want the King to my Queen, but how can I financially contribute equally to a relationship when I’m still building my own empire? How am I supposed to inspire and motivate another person when I’m still so focused finding my own? Because after all, especially by today’s standards, success is something I should be able to build all by myself, and definitely not with the help of a partner.

The pressure of being a strong, independent female today is real, y’all. And truth be told- it’s exhausting.

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So if you’re anything like me, you most likely spent your 20’s working hard to be the Boss Babe that you are now in your 30’s. I see you Queen. You ate your glitter for breakfast, and you became the proud poster child for #riseandgrind. You’re by no means rich (yet), but you’ve been able to support yourself, all the while successfully dodging fuckboys along the way. AND you probably did it all in heels. That in itself should earn you a trophy. Or at the very least a vacation.

Except there is no trophy. And there is no vacation. Instead, there’s only another level, or another new goal you’ve decided you need to reach. Which means more glitter will be needed, and more rising and grinding will be done before we might finally be able to declare ourselves as “happy”. To be fair, I’m not sure what exactly happens to a person when they do successfully reach it. Maybe some internal light magically turns on similar to a taxi cab, letting men know that you’re finally qualified enough to be Wifey material. Or, maybe nothing happens at all, and we just have to continue dodging fuckboys until The One simply decides just to casually show up one day in some meet cute kind of way.

Or maybe, we can finally just stop worrying about it. And just keep crushing our goals while we live our life. For the record, this is the option I vote for.

So why is being single in your 30’s such a toxic title to have today? Well the truth is…. it isn’t. Or rather, you shouldn’t look at it that way. Because being judged for being single in your 30’s is really just a sign of the times, and not a sign of your life choices. Or perhaps I should say- a sign of the changing of times.

Let me explain….

Remember when you were young, and society had this normalized standard that you thought you had to follow to be successful? First you would go to college to get the job that would make the money, then you would meet Prince Charming somewhere in your 20’s, get married, and then finally, you would have the family and coveted white picket fence in your 30’s. It all sounds so lovely, right?

God, we were stupid….

Because as it would turn out, we would grow up as the generation that would rewrite the entire fucking script. The generation that proved you didn’t need to go to college to land the dream job. Instead, we realized we could skip the student loans, create our own dream jobs instead, and just start working for ourselves.

We realized the divorce rate was ridiculous, as most of us grew up in single parent homes. So we decided maybe getting married in your 20’s wasn’t the best idea, and we took our time instead. So we used our 20’s to live. We used our 20’s for travel. For experiences. And for an education that no classroom would have ever provided. And hopefully, through all that, you figured out just who “you” really were, and how much “you” were really capable of. And then to our surprise, we discovered the person we were in our 20’s would still yet somehow evolve into almost an entirely different person in our 30’s.

And now here we are in our 30’s, and we’re still learning. About ourselves, and about what we define as a successful life. For some of us it might still be that family with the white picket fence. But for others, it could be the apartment you’re still renting in NYC. Or maybe it’s living with your best friend in the Hollywood Hills. Or maybe it’s the old, but very shabby chic farmhouse with just enough property to shelter all the animals you rescued.

The point is- the only way to measure your success in life…. is you. Or more specifically, your happiness with where you are, right now.

So the truth is, maybe our 30’s are when we just need to stop. Stop with all of it. Stop with the standards. Stop with the timelines. Stop with the judgement. And to finally stop letting ridiculous factors like goals or wealth determine our own happiness with where we are in life, at this very moment.

And instead, maybe we just need to start looking at ourselves as individuals that each have their own idea of what happiness is. As individuals that are still learning. Still growing. And more importantly, individuals that are still making mistakes.

But above all, maybe your 30’s are for finally realizing the only things worth chasing in this crazy beautiful life, are the things that set your soul on fire.