When I was 24, I made the decision that I was putting myself in a relationship time-out. I didn’t sit myself down and consciously say I wasn’t going to date any more, but I was tired of pouring my energy and emotions into something from which I was finding little reward. So, I just stopped trying. What I found was that I really enjoyed myself, even as society questioned my sanity.

I’d been a relationship woman for a long time. I began a four-year relationship my final year of high school that lasted well into college. I got engaged to the next boyfriend, but decided to break it off because I knew we weren’t good for each other. In both cases I was the one pulling the trigger at the end. In both cases I was sad, but walked away knowing I’d done something that was for the best.

The next boyfriend was different. I was crazy about Connor. I loved everything about him. He was a former athlete, tall and sturdy in a very masculine way. He was quiet, but open with me. He was attentive to my needs. Although I’d always been proud of my independence, especially in relationships, I threw myself into this one. I’d allowed myself to be wrapped up in the relationship, certain that I’d met “The One.” Turns out he was just “The One” to stomp on my feelings by suddenly and unexpectedly breaking up with me, then turning around and finding someone else to date and marry very, very quickly.

Like anyone who’s had their heart broken, I felt betrayed. And I certainly wasn’t about to let this happen again.

Thus began a period of four years, in which, during the prime dating years of my 20s, I went on very few dates. At first I mooned over the past and put up a protective shield so that I didn’t have to feel the kind of humiliation and heartbreak again. However, as time passed I spent less time mooning and more time living. I enjoyed the freedom to do just what I wanted. It was glorious.

Suddenly, I had a lot of free time. I could work out every day of the week, watch whatever I wanted on TV, always be free when my friends wanted to get together. There’s a lot of benefits to being single that are often painted as lonely. I didn’t find this to be the case. Instead, I concentrated on my personal goals: grad school, teaching classes, taking trips to visit friends. Not dating means that you’re saving your energy for yourself.

When you’re not actively dating, people feel very free to give you lots of unsolicited advice. “It’ll happen when you’re not looking” is a personal favorite of mine. Anecdotally, I’m going to go ahead and debunk this one. If you’re not looking, how are you ever going to meet anyone? Random single dudes don’t just go around, looking for women minding their own business, and sweep them off their feet. Everyone seems to think that this sort of advice is a comfort. I stopped looking for FOUR YEARS and guess who I found? No one. Because I wasn’t looking.

For women in their 20s, questions often arise when you see family members, friends who are out of touch with your daily life, even random strangers who cut your hair and clean your teeth. “So, got a boyfriend?” “Been on any good dates lately?” “Are you going to take this new haircut out with a guy?” No, no, and unless you count my dude friends who wouldn’t notice if I buzzed my head, no. You’re expected to be out there, meeting new people, and playing the dating game everyone seems to think their 20s is.

I even felt a small sense of shame at my yearly gynecologist appointment. When she asked me if I’d been sexually active in the last year I glibly replied “nope!” Maybe she thought I was making it up, but there was a hesitation on her part. What was I thinking? Did I want to stop taking birth control? The answer to that was also no. I wanted to keep my options open, even if I wasn’t actively needing to prevent some egg/sperm uniting at the moment. Seeming slightly confused, the doctor responded, “umm, okay.” And that was that. I was a 27-year-old freak of nature.

I wonder if a man would be under the same pressure during his 20s. Certainly not that he should be in a long-term relationship, but if he chose to take himself out of the dating world and not actively pursue anything? My instinct tells me people might not understand his choices, but would have more assumptions about the guy “playing the field,” assuming he was sleeping with ladies of his choice without committing to them. That certainly wasn’t the reaction people had to me.

So what will become of me? After pursuing my own goals for several years and finding myself happy with my career, location, and overall life trajectory, I recently re-entered the dating world. Despite the work that it is, I have found myself pretty happy. I possess a solid sense of who I am, and I know that now, when I meet someone, I’ll be able to know I’ve made independent decisions to get where I am today. Although society may not understand why I did it, I’m confident my dating pause was the best choice I could have made for my own happiness. And I’m going to need that confidence to counteract all the unsolicited dating advice I’m going to be receiving.

Caroline Lancaster is a Washington DC resident who recently re-entered the dating world and is trying her hand at this whole love-online thing.

Photo credit CarbonNYC/Flickr.