Hello, fabulous readers! It’s your girl Tina here, ready to dive into a topic that hits home harder than my cat when she’s trying to steal my seat. Today’s theme? “One is the loneliest number.” Now, I know what you’re thinking: “Tina, we get it. It’s a classic song, but come on!” Trust me, I’m not here to start a one-woman karaoke show—although if I were, you’d definitely want to grab some popcorn for the train wreck that would ensue. Instead, let’s chat about the unique adventures and misadventures that come with navigating life as a solo act.

So, picture this: there I was, a bright-eyed twenty-something, freshly graduated and filled with that delightful cocktail of optimism and uncertainty. My friends were off landing jobs, moving in with their significant others, and living their best lives while I was stuck in my tiny apartment, binge-watching a documentary about the history of cheese. (Yes, I really did that. Don’t judge me; it was fascinating!) It was in this state of solitude that I realized just how lonely being “one” could feel. I mean, who knew that the term “me time” could turn into a full-on existential crisis?

Let’s be real—there’s nothing quite like scrolling through social media and seeing your friends at brunch, laughing over mimosas while you’re at home, wearing sweatpants and trying to convince yourself that you really don’t need to leave the house. (Spoiler alert: you do need to leave the house. The couch is not a valid social circle.) I remember one particular Sunday scrolling through Instagram, and I came across a photo of my best friend Sarah, beaming with her new boyfriend, surrounded by a group of friends. They were all holding up their drinks, and I could almost hear them laughing through the screen. Meanwhile, I was having a deep conversation with my goldfish, who, as it turns out, is a terrible listener. “Bubbles, why does it feel like everyone is living in a rom-com while I’m stuck in a very dark indie film?” I lamented. Bubbles just stared at me, probably judging my life choices.

But let’s rewind a bit. I remember this one time, back in college, when I decided to embrace my singlehood and go to a concert by myself. Yes, you heard that right—Tina, the solo concert-goer. I thought it would be liberating, like I was channeling my inner Beyoncé. Spoiler: I was more like a confused kitten in a room full of energetic puppies. I arrived, ticket in hand, and immediately felt like the odd one out. Everyone was there with their friends, singing along to songs I hadn’t even heard yet. I stood awkwardly at the back, clutching my phone like a lifeline, pretending to be super into the opening act while secretly plotting my escape.

Then came the moment when, out of nowhere, the lead singer pulled a girl from the crowd onto the stage. My heart sank as I realized that I was not only at a concert alone, but I was also missing out on the chance to be a star, even if just for a moment. I could already picture myself up there, belting out a power ballad, while the crowd cheered. Instead, I was in the audience, contemplating whether my nachos were more fulfilling than my social life. And let me tell you, nachos are a great companion, but they don’t give you hugs.

But here’s the kicker: as the concert went on, I started to embrace my solo status. I found myself swaying to the music, letting the rhythm wash over me. I even struck up a conversation with the person next to me—let’s call him Dave. Turns out, Dave was also there alone, and we bonded over our mutual awkwardness. By the end of the night, we were belting out the lyrics to the last song together, as if we were long-lost friends. Who knew that one lonely night could turn into an unexpected friendship? Sometimes, being one can lead you to meet another one—like a lonely number club!

Let’s talk about the times when being “one” gets a little too real. Like, have you ever had to attend a family gathering alone? That’s a special kind of fun, let me tell you. “So, Tina, still single?” they ask, as if it’s the latest gossip in a soap opera. I used to think I’d just brush it off with a laugh, but then it became a game of how many ways can I dodge that question. “Oh, you know, just dating myself and it’s going really well!” I’d say, while my relatives looked at me like I had three heads. Trust me, there’s nothing more entertaining than watching Aunt Edna squirm at the thought of me happily single, while she’s trying to set me up with her neighbor’s grandson who once wore socks with sandals.

But let’s be honest, being “one” doesn’t have to be a sad story. It’s a chance to discover yourself and explore the world on your own terms. I started picking up hobbies that I never thought I’d enjoy—like painting. Now, if you saw my artwork, you might think Picasso had a very unfortunate day. But it’s therapeutic! I’d slap some paint on a canvas, and suddenly I’m channeling my inner Van Gogh, even if the end result looks like a toddler’s finger painting after an ice cream binge.

And let’s not forget about traveling solo! I decided to take a weekend trip to a nearby city. I packed my bags, hopped on a train, and felt like a modern-day explorer. I visited museums, ate at cute cafés, and even had a full conversation with the barista about the best pastries. It was empowering! Sure, I had to take selfies like a true millennial, holding my phone out at arm’s length with a slightly awkward smile, but it was worth it. I realized I didn’t need a plus one to have a good time; I could be my own adventure buddy.

So, dear readers, the next time you find yourself feeling like “one is the loneliest number,” remember that being alone can be a beautiful thing. It’s a chance to learn, grow, and discover what makes you tick. Whether you’re jamming out at a concert, awkwardly dodging questions at family gatherings, or finding joy in your own company, embrace it. Because sometimes, being “one” leads you to experiences you never knew you needed—and who knows? You might just find another “one” along the way.

Until next time, keep smiling, keep exploring, and remember that your solo journey is uniquely yours. And hey, if you ever need a companion, just know I’m always down for nachos!

-Tina