Why I Stopped Searching for Love—And Found It Anyway

Love Isn't Dead, But It Isn't Always What You'd Expect

Photo by Annie Spratt on Unsplash

Being a single 22-year-old woman with my kind of life is… interesting. While most people my age are in college or starting their first post-grad jobs, I’m already years into what I hope will be a long and impactful career in politics. My transition into adulthood hasn’t been conventional. By 19, I had already sat in my first White House meeting. By 21, I was speaking at the Democratic National Convention. So, navigating maturity and relationships has been vastly different for me compared to my peers.

Especially when it comes to dating.

I’ve always been guarded in relationships. Maybe it’s because of my religious upbringing and the constant lectures about “saving yourself for marriage.” Maybe it’s because I struggled with eating disorders and body image issues. Probably a mix of both. But I never realized how much harder dating would become when… well, when I got kinda famous.

I noticed it when people on dating apps would match with me just to say they “love my work” or when they’d DM me, mentioning they saw me on Tinder or Hinge. I’d politely say thank you, then immediately deactivate my account—until boredom inevitably had me downloading them again. Meeting people in real life isn’t much better. Most of the people I’m surrounded by also work in politics, and I’ve learned the hard way that dating within that circle? Not a good idea. The lines between work and personal blur too easily, turning into a toxic, co-dependent mess. So, pro tip: don’t date your coworkers. Especially if you’re a content creator with an audience of millions.

The fact is I am just not good at dating. I am short tempered, brutally honest, and my personality is the only thing louder than my voice. My last attempt ended in that classic, young, one-sided heartbreak—the kind where you cry for a bit, roll your eyes at yourself, and move on. Life goes on. What can you do? Another reason I stopped trying? Modern dating feels so superficial. Everything is either a hookup or a casual situationship that makes relationships feel cheap and pointless. Where is the romance? Where are the meaningful connections built on emotional vulnerability and respect?

I started to think that good men just don’t exist anymore—maybe they never did.

There are two sides to me: the child of divorce and the hopeless romantic. I grew up reading love stories about men who fought beasts and slayed giants for the girl of their dreams (which is just a poetic way of saying I read Twilight and A Court of Thorns and Roses). But my parents divorced when I was 14, just a few months shy of their 30th wedding anniversary. I didn’t understand how two people who had spent nearly their entire lives together could just… stop. And I didn’t realize how much it affected me until I had my first almost-relationship in high school.

If he didn’t text back fast enough, I was convinced I had done something wrong. If he laughed with another girl, I thought he didn’t like me anymore. It was the first of many toxic situationships where my insecurities and warped view of love were on full display. I’ve never had a serious relationship—not for lack of trying, but for lack of trust. I don’t trust men. I don’t believe they have good intentions. I always assumed they’d leave for someone better because, ultimately, I thought I was unlovable. That’s what I had been told—or rather, shown—by the boys around me growing up. (Never mind the fact that I also had a series of oddly intimate emotional friendships with girls, which eventually helped me realize I’m bisexual.)

For a long time, I believed I just wasn’t the type of girl who could be loved.

Until I became the only girl in a friend group full of twenty-something-year-old men.

I’ve always had a lot of guy friends—probably because I spent a good chunk of my teenage years living in a children’s home with eight older brothers (which is a story for another day). So, I’ve always just kind of been one of the bros. Over the past few years, we all found our way to each other through different networks and events. We realized we had the same interests, the same beliefs, and most importantly, we didn’t take ourselves too seriously to have fun—something rare in politics.

And over time, I realized that these men were genuinely kind, caring, and good.

I realized it when one of them called to show me the anniversary gift he bought his wife. When another FaceTimed me while coloring a butterfly picture he was mailing to his long-distance girlfriend so they could feel close despite the miles between them. When one of them excitedly asked if his tie matched the dress of his date before their first major outing. I watched them love, respect, and cherish their partners. I saw how their eyes lit up when they spoke about them, how their shoulders relaxed, how their entire demeanor softened. I saw what true, gentle, healthy love looks like.

And it completely changed my perspective on love and the standard men should be held to. What I didn’t expect was for them to set that standard for loving me.

When I was having a breakdown on a street corner in Chicago at 1 AM, I didn’t expect to be chased down, comforted, and given an out to skip the party if I wasn’t up for it. When I hung up a group call in tears after being teased a little too much, I didn’t expect an immediate callback with panicked apologies and promises to be more mindful in the future. I definitely didn’t expect the flowers that showed up at my apartment this morning on Valentine’s Day, with a note that read, “Please don’t be mushy about this. - Your Friends.”

Over time, through small gestures and big ones, they’ve shown me not just that I’m worthy of love—but that loving me is easy. (outside of the constant nonstop bullying that you should honestly expect if you plan on being friends with men!)

True love is about friendship. It is about finding people who you can laugh, cry, grow, and enjoy life with. I’ve found that kind of love multiple times over with friends and family who show me it exists each and every day. I know that my time is too valuable to allow myself to tolerate or expect anything less– and frankly, I’d rather be single than be with someone who makes me feel alone in my own relationship.

When I met them, I thought it would just be the occasional dinner and drinks with laughter and jokes. Now, It's the type of friendship where I find myself excitedly waiting for them to have children, to get married, and to finally settle down after years of being the young troublemakers.

So, to the ladies reading this: good men do exist. Never settle for less because you think that’s all you deserve. You deserve better. And as for me? I know my true final love is out there somewhere, unaware that being with me is a package deal. The package being a built in group of lifelong besties!

I don’t know when I’ll find the person I’m meant to spend my life with, but I do know this—the standard for them just keeps getting higher.