When I was 18, like many my age, I dived into the world of online dating. It was an exciting yet unfamiliar space, full of possibilities but also uncertainties. I didn’t expect to find myself connecting with a 27-year-old man who lived about half an hour away. Our first date was at the cinema, and we instantly hit it off. The evening ended with me spending the night at his place. At the time, I decided to keep the relationship hidden from my family, fearing they wouldn’t approve due to the age gap. I thought I could handle it, but things soon spiralled in ways I hadn’t anticipated.
As our relationship progressed, he became possessive and jealous. One evening, I received a message on my phone while I was with him, and what followed was a nightmare. His anger exploded, and that night, he assaulted me. Afterward, he dropped me off at home as if nothing had happened, even thanking me for "a lovely time." I was left in shock and silence, unsure how to process what had just occurred.
Instead of dealing with the trauma, I threw myself into another relationship as a form of distraction. For a while, it worked. I felt like I had moved on, especially when I started dating him. We made it "Facebook official" after just three weeks, and I thought I had found someone I could trust. But soon after, a family friend warned me about his volatile personality. I didn’t think much of it until I received a message from another girl, complete with screenshots of inappropriate conversations between her and him. He had told her that he "had the tools to give her a baby." That was my breaking point.
Ending things with him, didn’t bring peace. He began sending me death threats and messages telling me to end my life—all because of his actions. It was another emotional blow that I wasn’t ready for.
Once again, I found myself seeking comfort in a new relationship. This time, I met someone whose background was different from mine—he came from a wealthy Christian family. Money wasn’t important to me. Our first date was at Nando’s, on Valentine’s Day of all days! Over the next six months, we started talking about our future together. I even tried to make him a birthday cake shaped like his car, a gesture that ended up backfiring. Instead of being grateful, he accused me of cheating because I wasn’t paying him enough attention.
That relationship also ended. It’s funny how I hated the idea of being alone, so I kept diving into relationships without allowing myself time to heal. Then, I met someone else online, and we were together for four years. For the first three years, it felt perfect—we never fought. But as time went on, small arguments became more frequent. He loved old, rusty cars and spent more time with them than with me. I felt like I was constantly second in his life.
We went on holidays together, celebrated New Year’s Eve in Iceland, and shared many moments. But near the end, his little comments about my appearance began to wear me down emotionally. He never hurt me physically, but the emotional toll of feeling less than enough was undeniable.
It wasn’t until I left that relationship that I realized how much I had put up with. He wasn’t a bad person, but he wasn’t the partner I deserved. Now, when I look back, I don’t miss him—I miss the memories we shared. Those experiences shaped who I am today.
Since then, I’ve tried dating again, but I’ve become more selective. I won’t settle for anything less than what I deserve. Am I happy being single? The answer is both yes and no. No, because I still crave companionship and the idea of building a life and family with someone. But yes, because I’m finally learning to focus on myself. I’m working on healing from the traumas of my past and figuring out what I truly want from life.
For the first time, I’m prioritising me—and that’s a journey worth celebrating.
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