Seven years ago, I became a single mother after ending my marriage because I was unhappy and believed I deserved fulfillment. I didn't want to merely exist in my most important relationship; I wanted to be my authentic self and seek more from life.
The Divorce and Its Aftermath
My estranged husband and I divided our belongings and arranged custody of our children. I worried about criticism for making an unpopular choice and whether I could support myself and my kids. However, I never feared dating or being alone. As a single person for the first time in a decade, I felt excited about meeting interesting people, sharing common ground, learning from them, or simply enjoying their company. I was open to kindness, connection, and feeling seen, regardless of the form they took.
Returning to the Dating Apps
I had flings and short-lived relationships, but each time I returned to dating apps—where most romantic connections begin today—I felt increasing dread. It wasn't that I tired of meeting people; I felt I was no longer what a growing number of men sought. Regardless of age, from 28 to 58, they all wanted someone who 'doesn't take herself too seriously.' I saw this line repeatedly on Bumble, Hinge, Tinder, and even The Stir (a dating app for single parents). I couldn't swipe through five profiles without encountering it. Each time, I furrowed my brow and said, 'Nope!' Yet after years mostly alone, I began questioning: Am I just too serious?
The Seriousness of Life
Life has indeed become more serious. Seven years ago, I became fully financially independent, took over the house and mortgage, and threw myself into work, landing successive editor jobs. My children grew older; one is now a teenager, and their struggles feel more urgent than diaper changes or playground tumbles. I exercise daily to feel good in my body. My parents, nearing 70, face pain and health issues. My own mental health is complex, and after almost 40 years, I'm still learning its needs. Life has sped up and become endlessly demanding, consequential, and serious. Though I'm happier than ever in many ways, a quiet whisper now accompanies first dates: 'What version of yourself will you show up as?' Because despite entering a more serious season, the idea of dumbing myself down or pretending to be a breezy, uncomplicated woman makes me roll my eyes so hard I might fall off my barstool.
Embracing Complexity
I can be many things: lighthearted, quick-witted, sharp-tongued. Not seeking anything serious doesn't mean I want to feign a mythical unserious trait that an increasing number of men require. I take my work, my role as a parent, and my small but solid circle of friends seriously. I want someone who loves that about me. I got divorced to avoid being an inauthentic version of myself, so I won't become who men want me to be. I'll remain intense, wordy, sometimes massively stressed, and a little unhinged. Every woman I know is similarly complicated. We're not wrong for taking ourselves seriously. It's a strange, anti-feminist request. Life, growing older, learning yourself, and daily lists conspiring against you naturally breed seriousness.
A Date with a Neuroscientist
The other night, I went on a date with a 30-year-old neuroscientist who had six pet rats rescued from the lab. He kept veering from serious topics like his family and catastrophic last relationship to show me videos of him scratching his rats' bellies. He was trying to be unserious. But I genuinely wanted to hear about neuroscience and his heartache. Perhaps we all fear being too much for someone. If we show up as our real selves and someone leaves, it hurts more. Yet I don't know many unserious women. We are free-spirited, funny, intense, passionate, and more. We face giant hurdles, many unique to women. Life is heartbreakingly uncertain, and we are all multifaceted and messy. We deserve to be exactly that.
Conclusion
As a single woman—facing financial struggles, criticism, motherhood, and men—sometimes it feels like no matter how much I do, it's never enough. My life is neither uncomplicated nor unserious. Still, I'd rather do it all alone and be fully myself every day than wear a mask or shave off my rough edges. Whoever stays can stay. The rest can keep searching for the myth.
