The single life: Why I’m happy never to look for love again
Tammi Willis has had her fair share of relationships but learned a hard lesson along the way…
As children, we read fairy tales about princesses meeting their prince, and as adults, we watch films about finding ‘the one’. Everyone is paired off to live happily ever after. For a brief period of my life, I believed in that content, coupled-up ending. But now, I’ve come to doubt it. What happens if you don’t need anyone else to make you happy?
At 44, I’m single and content with my life as it is. Not just content, but perfectly happy. So much so, that I’ve scrubbed ‘finding love’ off my list of things to do…
I’ve always been surrounded by strong, independent women – and some wonderful role models. My great aunt Avice – or Aunty A, as we called her – was a force to be reckoned with. Kind, generous, fit and healthy, she worked in a bank right up until a few months before she’d passed away aged 80.
I can remember going to stay with her and was in awe of the fact she was comfortable in her own skin and enjoyed her own company. She had a great circle of friends and adored my mum, Sue. It was inspiring. Aunty A had a huge influence on me… as did Mum.
My parents split when
I was seven years old and, while unusual to many, we lived with Dad during the week, and spent every weekend with Mum. I know some people may have been judgemental about a woman leaving the home and letting Dad keep us but she hadn’t been happy for a long time and I know it was a tough decision for her to go. Kids aren’t stupid – they can sense when relationships are unhappy and, honestly, I admired her for making a change.
She always taught me to follow my dreams, take any opportunities presented to me and to be independent. So much so, that in my late teens, I’d go out and have dinner on my own and read a book. I felt a little selfconscious at first, but really enjoyed the peace and quiet.
And I was incredibly loved. I had three wonderful siblings, who I got on brilliantly with, loads of friends and I wasn’t shy.
The first time I fell in love, I was 22. He was my best friend – and my housemate. I’d known Mark* since my teens through my brother and we shared a love of martial arts, had worked at the same place, and were always
messing around, laughing and joking.
Then one night – I can’t even explain why – my feelings changed. I didn’t want to ruin what we had but I’d always been honest with Mark, so…
‘I really like you,’ I admitted one night. I think he was shocked but really sweet and understanding – although ultimately, he didn’t feel the same way. Inevitably, we drifted apart but thankfully, we were able to reforge our friendship years later.
Four years on, I fell in love again. I first met Steven* when he hired me to work in his Guildford-based pub. We were friends for six months before getting together and things moved quickly after that.
We moved to London and set up an entertainment venue. I thought Steven and I would be together forever, settle down. We worked well both in business and in our personal life. I have really fond memories of the
10 years we spent together, but eventually, we were partying too hard and the hours were too long.
Such intense relationships are difficult to sustain and by 36, I found myself single again. I was upset and felt like a failure. It took a while before I started to feel like me again but when I did, I went immediately back to dating and had several short relationships, and even a few encounters.
I thought nothing of meeting men on nights out or through dating apps. It was just fun. I was quite happy on my own, not having to answer to anyone else, or fit into a timetable.
As my mates settled down and became parents, I was always asked: ‘Don’t you want kids?’ The answer was, honestly, no. Don’t get me wrong, I adored children and was really fond of the little humans my friends were raising, but I didn’t feel a burning desire to hold my own.
I wondered if that would change with my body clock ticking and I moved closer to the menopause. But it didn’t. I suppose that is a blessing – it would have added an entirely different level of pressure to my life.
The third and final time
I fell in love was aged 39.
It was 2017. Dan* was charismatic, charming and we had a strong physical connection. But our relationship wasn’t healthy… We seemed to lurch from one drama to the next. I even stopped seeing friends and loved ones to keep the peace. And after just a year, I knew things couldn’t go on the way they were and we separated.
It was a relief to have my freedom back – to do the things I loved and enjoy my own company again.
‘Don’t you miss it?’ friends asked about sex but truthfully I didn’t. Physical desire wasn’t constantly on my mind and I could focus on the things that were important to me.
My friends, family, exercise and starting my own vegan café business.
Some people may find it hard to believe but I don’t even miss cuddling up to someone at night – I get a perfectly good night’s sleep on my own. My friends keep me company and I have enough people around me, in my personal and professional life, to bounce my ideas off and be inspired by.
Ju-jitsu is how I exercise and it’s fun. It comes with countless benefits to my physical and mental wellbeing.
Now I have an amazing family and so many friends, who I devote my free time to. Collectively, they fulfil my need for love, belonging, connectivity, camaraderie and conversation. Why on earth would I need a man to come along and fix what certainly isn’t broken?