There is a matter concerning singledom that is rarely discussed: practice. Eventually, there comes a moment when work, a project, or even a family member demands more attention, and your love life goes down the drain. Your focus shifts, and without realising it, your energy becomes channelled into just one thing. The side effects are plenty, but quickly, the first casualty is your capacity for social interaction. Returning to that becomes more difficult once you stop meeting strangers or going out to parties and nightclubs.

You become accustomed to loose-fitting clothes and no longer worry if your grooming is overdue. Your skin thanks you for reducing the absurd amount of makeup, and you realise how expensive it is to maintain the style you had created for yourself. Swapping a dinner where the other person could be everything you’re not looking for to a comfortable night under your blanket. Just the thought of spending hours on your feet in a club, flirting with someone who won’t talk to you and you won’t speak to them, sends shivers down your spine. The most dangerous part of distancing yourself from this social exercise is that you become addicted to not wanting to engage in it anymore.

Caught up in the dynamics of daily life, I had unwittingly plummeted into that abyss. With a more stringent routine and many tasks in a single day, I swept my social life under the rug. The people I encountered were always the same: friends, coworkers, and professors.

Even though there were opportunities to meet new people during breaks between classes, the bars I frequented, or even, who knows, at the gym, I couldn’t find the desire to do so. Just the thought of squeezing in a date between classes and work hours left me disheartened. As a result, I avoided eye contact and whenever possible, I put on headphones as an excuse to avoid conversation.

There is an oft-repeated saying: “If Mohammed does not go to the mountains, the mountains will come to Mohammed.” I know that quoting a biblical passage may not be very appropriate for a column that has “sex” in its name or that it may sound a bit cheesy. But there is no better proverb to define the situation.

On one of those chaotic days when you reconsider quitting several times but are afraid of being fired, I received a message from a stranger on Instagram. Curiously, this person did not follow me, nor did I follow them on the platform. It took a while for me to process where that human being had come from, but after two minutes of conversation, it clicked.

Like any human in this century, I downloaded one of those dating apps to explore the offerings in the dating realm. I didn’t expect that, despite evading social interaction, I had kept the app installed on my phone. And believe me, when someone is interested, they are interested.

I carried the conversation as far as it would go, and before I knew it, a week had passed. It was enjoyable to converse with that stranger, mainly because they lived in another city. This made it easier to come up with excuses such as scheduling conflicts or inclement weather.

However, there comes a time when the bill is due, and I can no longer escape the question, “When will we meet?”. I searched the internet for some non-serious ailment that wouldn’t concern them but would give me a month to postpone that conversation. Frustration set in when I realised nothing fit my requirements, forcing me to ghost them or compel myself to go out with the guy.

I discovered that my Sagittarius moon would never decline a last-minute invitation, so I gave in and agreed to the meeting. As I sat on the bathroom sink, cleaning my eyebrows, I questioned how I had let myself reach that stage. If I had maintained some discipline with certain self-care practices, I wouldn’t have suffered so much all at once.

Three hours later, I managed to look at myself in the mirror and call myself a doll. When I put on high heels, I noticed that working from home could be a trap, and upon leaving the house, I realised I had gone overboard with perfume. Sometimes, it’s better to err on the side of excess.

Upon meeting the stranger, nervousness and discomfort immediately washed over me. My mind kept repeating why I subjected myself to such situations. But as we continued talking, things improved, and gradually, I became engrossed in the person who was there, forgetting about the context in which we were placed.

We said our goodbyes at the night’s end, and he took the last train back to his city. I wasn’t confident that we would see each other again, but we would continue texting. Perhaps we would remain only friends, but I didn’t mind either. Often, we demand too many tangible results from ourselves and forget that the best experience we can have is in the exchange. After spending the night laughing at the most unexpected things imaginable, I felt that I was back.

I am back to opening myself up to people and practising the art of living real life.

A.M.