As an influencer, I’m used to sharing my day-to-day life on social media. But recently, I decided to share a different type of post titled my ‘Museum of Failures.’ One of the failures I listed was never having had a boyfriend by the age of 37.
The aim of the post was to show that although these things might be seen as ‘failures’ in society’s eyes, they can be reframed as moments of growth that are part of our individual journeys. Being single age 37 isn’t something I think of as a ‘failure’ – it’s something I accept as part of my story.
After sharing the post on Instagram (@iamkristabel) and TikTok (@kristabelplummer), I received lots of messages from people in similar situations who said it was reassuring to hear someone speaking openly about being single in their late thirties. I wasn’t dating serious men in my twenties, and a big part of finding a partner who wants to be in a relationship is luck and timing. When combined with the years we all lost to the pandemic and a disposable dating app culture, it’s little wonder that more women my age are still single.
I was a bit of a late bloomer growing up. I went to a girl’s school, and around age 14, everyone was suddenly talking about ‘how far’ they had gone. I was like ‘hang on, when were we meant to be kissing boys?’ That made me feel quite insecure at the time. I grew up in the early noughties, which was an interesting time to come of age. We had ladette culture, reality TV and celebrities – sex was everywhere. If you were the opposite of that, it felt quite lonely.
I made some good friends who were also late bloomers. A lot of them got boyfriends when they were around 18, which can be seen as quite late. I also dated someone for the first time when I was 18 and it didn’t work out. That affected me quite a bit. I went on to study a female dominated course at university and my halls weren’t the most sociable, so I didn’t meet anyone there. My school friends were really understanding, but I kept a lot of this stuff a secret for a while because it went against everything everyone else was doing.
I put my work first throughout my twenties. My career as an influencer was taking off, and in many ways that became my boyfriend. I had lots of things to occupy my time with, like press trips and campaigns. Looking back, this had a lot to do with the ‘girl boss’ era I grew up in. There was a bit of a stigma against bloggers at the time, so we were working quite hard to make a name for ourselves.
When I was 27, I decided I was finally going to try dating websites. I hadn’t been on a date in nine years. This was before the days of swiping on apps, so I just remember messages coming into my inbox. Sometimes there was racism – one guy said, ‘nice wig’ and another one said, ‘let’s have mixed race babies.’ I had a few dates, and I met someone who I had what is now known as a ‘situationship’ with – although we didn’t have the language to describe these situations at the time. I realised it wasn’t going anywhere, and it ended with us mutually ghosting each other.
Then the pandemic hit, and I saw out lockdown by myself. A difficult four years followed, where my nan passed away and I had some health issues. Suddenly, I was like ‘Oh my god, I’m 37.’ This is something so many of us experienced during covid. It even has a name, the pandemic skip – the sense that your mental age is younger than your chronological age. The pandemic has made it a lot more understandable as to why more of us aren’t in relationships right now.
I’d like to find someone and to have children but I’m not sure how to approach it. Guys have a different mindset because they aren’t thinking about their body clocks, so lots of them are just happy to carry on dating casually. But I’m getting tired of dating apps. I don’t like swiping and making snap decisions. I find myself asking: ‘do I give this guy a chance even though I don’t fancy him? Am I being too picky?’ It brings up a lot of weird emotions. It also makes dating quite disposable – I’ve had three guys cancel on me this year, including one 40 minutes before the date.
I’m lucky to have a close group of friends, but being single later in your thirties does come with some challenges. A handful of my friends got pregnant in quick succession of each other, and suddenly it felt like I was surrounded by babies. That took a bit of adjusting too, as late nights were off the cards, and I often had to work around their schedules. They are all really understanding of my situation, but I try and have other friends at a similar life stage to me too.
I think the stigma around being single in your thirties, and beyond, is improving. It’s so refreshing to see influencers being more open about being late bloomers, and their own dating struggles. At least now people in their twenties can follow us and see you can live a full life without being in a relationship.
My advice to anyone in a similar situation would be to accept that being single at this age is part of your story. It might just mean you’ve been prioritising other things or not found your person yet. I’ve had a cool 37 years, and when I meet someone, I’ve got 37 years of new experiences to look forward to. Plus, when else can you blast your most embarrassing playlists when doing the washing up? This might be the last time you experience being single, so the bottom line is to enjoy it.