As I near my thirtieth birthday, I find myself facing a barrage of inquiries from friends, family, and acquaintances.
“Are you searching for a boyfriend?”
“Why are you not in a relationship?”
Most of those posing these questions are themselves in committed partnerships, operating under the assumption that my single status indicates a desire for a companion or a sense of incompleteness.
Additionally, I often hear, “When do you plan to have children?”
This question serves as a reminder of the societal expectation that women should feel a pressing need to become mothers.
It is presumed that, as a woman, I possess an innate drive to nurture and raise children.
Society tends to present these life milestones as straightforward achievements.
When my younger sister welcomed her first child two years ago, I thought this development might satisfy my family’s curiosity about my own plans.
However, the inquiry merely shifted to, “When will you give your niece a cousin?”
While my sister’s choice to start a family was met with admiration, I wish to receive the same level of respect for my choices.
As a writer, I have the freedom to craft my ideal partner on the page, combining attributes from beloved literary characters, celebrities, and real-life acquaintances into one perfect figure.
In reality, however, the process is far more complex.
With numerous dating applications available, the search for a compatible partner can be overwhelming, and identifying my “type” remains a challenge.
Though I am fortunate to have supportive friends and family who appreciate me as I am, my shorter stature has led some individuals to think it is acceptable to mock me.
I feel apprehensive about meeting new people through online dating platforms, as it can be difficult to gauge who will accept me and who will make me feel less than.
I would prefer to encounter a partner in a more natural, organic setting, which feels safer.
I also have faith in the concept of serendipity; if someone enters my life through shared interests or activities, that person is already part of my world.
Whenever I am questioned about my relationship status, I often feel as though I am under scrutiny.
I grow weary of having to justify my single and child-free lifestyle.
Embracing my life
I have created a fulfilling life for myself, filled with various communities that help stave off loneliness.
This year, I am excited about several upcoming para powerlifting competitions throughout Australia, where I will enhance my lifting skills and reconnect with friends.
Additionally, I look forward to my writing sessions, where I connect with individuals who share similar passions.
Being single and without children grants me considerable flexibility and freedom in my choices.
I can engage in writing workshops without having to arrange childcare or other commitments.
My single status also allows me greater independence; I can decide on financial matters, my living situation, and how to spend my time without needing to make compromises.
As an introvert who values personal space, I can choose when to socialize and when to recharge.
In a partnership, these decisions would likely involve collaboration.
The main drawback of being single is the frequent need to defend my choices.
The traditional narrative surrounding marriage and motherhood is one I grew up observing.
It was the path taken by my parents, relatives, and friends’ families, leading me to believe I would follow suit.
However, after starting a part-time job that I enjoy, I have established a satisfying routine.
Surprisingly, I’ve discovered that I have ample space in my life.
If a relationship were to come my way, it would merely enhance the rich life and community I have already built.
Though my journey may differ from others, I can still experience love and connection without the necessity of becoming a mother or a partner.
I am not living a life that feels incomplete; rather, I am intentionally crafting my own narrative.
I am writing my story on my terms.
Julie Dickson is a freelance writer based in Melbourne/Naarm and is currently pursuing a graduate certificate in politics and policy at Deakin University.

















