I Want to Be Someone Who Goes Out Alone. I Also Want Someone to Come With Me.

There is a version of myself I would really like to be.

She's the kind of woman who takes herself out for coffee, wanders around a bookstore for an hour, books a weekend trip without consulting anyone, and sits at a restaurant with a glass of wine and a book like she has absolutely nowhere else to be.

She doesn't wait for people to make plans. She doesn't cancel because her friends are busy. She simply decides she wants to do something, gets dressed, and goes.

I admire her.

I also desperately want someone to come with me.

And apparently, those two things are supposed to be mutually exclusive.

Somewhere along the way, we've decided that being independent means being perfectly content doing absolutely everything alone. Going to the movies alone? Empowering. Eating dinner alone? Romantic. Travelling alone? Life-changing. Having a spontaneous afternoon to yourself? A sign that you've finally become the woman you were always meant to be.

And don't get me wrong. I love the idea. I genuinely want to be that woman.

But sometimes I want to go to Target with someone. I want to send a friend a picture of something ridiculous I found while we're walking around. I want someone to taste my food at a restaurant and agree that I definitely ordered the better thing.

Is that really so much to ask?

Apparently, I Need To Become My Own Best Friend

I feel like there is an entire industry dedicated to convincing women that they should be their own everything.

Take yourself on a date. Buy yourself flowers. Take yourself on vacation. Learn to enjoy your own company. Stop waiting for someone else to make your life exciting.

It's all very lovely in theory.

But at some point, I start wondering whether I'm supposed to develop a completely separate friendship with myself. Am I meant to surprise myself with birthday gifts? Take myself out for a nice dinner and pretend I didn't already know what I was ordering? Send myself a funny TikTok?

Maybe I'm missing something.

I understand the sentiment. We shouldn't have to put our lives on hold because nobody is available to accompany us. There are too many restaurants to try, places to visit, and experiences to have to spend our entire lives waiting for someone else's schedule to line up with ours.

But wanting company isn't the same as being incapable of enjoying yourself without it.

Sometimes I'd rather share an experience with another person, and I don't think there's anything particularly tragic about that.

In fact, I think we've become a little too comfortable treating every desire for companionship as a personal-development issue.

The Pressure To Be Effortlessly Independent

There is something almost performative about the way we talk about doing things alone.

We're constantly seeing women romanticise solo dates, solo travel, and solo adventures. And while I genuinely think it's wonderful that more women are feeling comfortable doing things independently, I sometimes wonder when it became another standard we're expected to meet.

Now, in addition to having a successful career, a skincare routine, a decent social life, and some semblance of financial stability, I'm apparently supposed to be completely fulfilled by my own company.

I should be able to walk into a crowded restaurant, request a table for one, and feel like the main character in a Nancy Meyers movie.

Meanwhile, I'm wondering whether the hostess thinks I got stood up.

It's not that I can't do things alone.

I can.

I just don't necessarily want to do all of them alone.

Independence has become something we feel the need to prove. We want to show that we're not waiting around for a partner, a friend, or anyone else to give us permission to enjoy our lives.

Which is a great message, until it starts making ordinary human connection feel like something we should have outgrown.

Being comfortable in your own company is one thing. Feeling obligated to prefer it is another.

Sometimes the Experience Is Better With Someone Else

Here's the thing about doing everything alone: you get to make all the decisions, but you miss out on the little moments that make sharing an experience so enjoyable.

You find a beautiful little restaurant. Great. But wouldn't it be nice to have someone across the table who understands why you're already planning your next visit?

You see something hilarious while shopping. Wonderful. Now you're taking a picture of it and sending it to someone who probably won't see it until three hours later.

You go on a weekend trip and stumble across a gorgeous view. You can absolutely appreciate it yourself, but there's something nice about turning to someone and saying, "Look at that."

Not every experience needs to become a lesson in self-sufficiency.

Sometimes the fun is in making a spontaneous decision together, getting slightly lost, ordering too much food, or spending an entire afternoon doing absolutely nothing productive.

Those are the moments that tend to become your favourite memories, even when you weren't doing anything particularly exciting.

And no, that doesn't mean we need to have a partner attached to our hip. Friends, siblings, parents, coworkers, and the occasional person who agrees to accompany us on a completely unnecessary shopping trip all count.

There's something wonderful about having people in your life who make even the most ordinary errands feel like an outing.

Surely we can celebrate independence without acting as though enjoying someone else's company is a weakness.

I Want Both, Actually

Maybe the problem is that we've turned independence and companionship into competing ideas when they really don't need to be.

I want to be able to book a trip without waiting for someone else to have the money or vacation days. I want to go to the movies even if nobody else is interested. I want to be comfortable sitting at a restaurant by myself without feeling like I need to look busy on my phone.

But I also want people who are excited to make plans with me.

I want friends who suggest going somewhere new, spontaneous afternoons that turn into late dinners, and conversations that continue long after we've finished our coffee.

I don't want to spend my life waiting for other people. But I don't want to become so determined to do everything myself that I forget to make room for them, either.

Maybe that's what we've gotten wrong about the whole solo-date movement. The goal shouldn't be to become a woman who never wants company. It should be to become a woman who doesn't miss out on life just because nobody else can come along.

And if someone is available to join me? Even better.

I'll happily take the company, thank you very much.

I want to be the woman who can go out alone. I just don't want to have to prove it every time.