Trump is president of the US (again), 2024 is nearly over and I find myself swiping blindly through the empty galleries of Bumble and Tinder after watching Nobody Wants This and realising what nobody really wants is not actually dating a bumbling handsome Rabbi, but the heartache of another situationship ending and the slight but maddening fear of dying alone with nothing but an army of wolfhounds to mark my passing.

Okay, admittedly, owning an army of wolfhounds makes this bleak image a bit less morose, but still, there’s no despair quite like that of lying awake at night, wondering if all those “it’s not you, it’s me” speeches were actually just about me. I mean, after a while, you start to find the common denominator, and maybe—just maybe—despite your best efforts and intentions, you’re an unlovable nightmare with a largely shaped head.

The mind can be a terrible, snarling enemy when it wants to be and, if you let it, all vicious and leering in its vitriol when you’re feeling low. It makes a person want to give in to despair while reaching for a box of Salti-Crax and a jar of peanut butter at 2 a.m. Because if no one else will love you, you may as well love yourself.

I hadn’t put myself out into the dating realm for quite some time. To love is to be raw, and I felt my temperament needed more time to refine before navigating the tempestuous waters of dating. After my last relationship, I resolved to spend time working on myself, maturing. Days became weeks, weeks became months, and months became years before I finally felt ready for something more than wine-sated hook-ups and one-night stands. Each encounter only strengthened my desire for real connection rather than just allure.

Because, let’s face it: we live on a gas sphere revolving around a giant ball of fire while, 10,000 years down the line, we still fight over religious intolerance and basic human rights all the while creating an economic system that encourages disparity and control of the lower and middle class. I may as well skip the concern and watch all available seasons (and spinoff derivatives) of 90 Day Fiancé while doom-scrolling and killing time.

Why worry about a partner when really, it’s dubious to think we are pushing 2050 yet even more so to think I can dodge the hurdles of modern dating expectations, juggle insecurities permeated through social media, keep my mental, emotional and physical wealth, not break my daily login challenges, maintain personal relationships while still find time to squeeze in a couple hours of work.

To put yourself out there is to be vulnerable. Open to the joy and the happiness, but also the anxiety and worry. Am I good enough? What do I say? Does she like me? Dark rabbit holes of self destructive thought pop up like land mines, hungrily sucking you up at the moment of weakness to choke on the dirt and depression. If you let it.

But – and it’s a big one because like Sir Mix A Lot, I like big butts – it’s so important to drop the doom and realise that we are more than we think we are. We fundamentally deserve better than we think we do. We are all deserving of love and happiness. Even when we make mistakes. Especially when we make mistakes. It’s so hard to forgive ourselves, yet so easy to self-sabotage and ruin the process, even if the process brings about happiness.

So there I found myself; a lonely satellite that had begun to drift into the stronger pulls of emotional gravity and had begun to fall. It’s the small things that you begin to adore. The curve of her lips or the way she laughs. Little jagged moments of happiness you remember after you’re not talking anymore and the lonely journey of orbit begins again. And that’s okay.

This journey of dating, much like deep space exploration, IS scary. It’s full of suffocating moments of blackness and lack of oxygen. But it’s also full of bright stars and exquisite supernova’s and isn’t that worth it?

All things happen in due time but don’t hold back just because you’re waiting for something better or the “right” moment. Who knows how long we have or what’s ahead? If you can find happiness in this relentless and turbulent existence; nurture it, and encourage it to grow. I’m reminded of a parable about a man caught in a storm, waiting for God to rescue him. He declines three offers of help, believing God will intervene. Eventually, he drowns and, upon reaching heaven, asks God, “Why didn’t you save me?” God replies, “But my son, I tried three times to send help—you just didn’t save yourself