Love on the Brain

Ah singleness, at times, it feels like a blessing. Other times, it’s a downright emotional rollercoaster. One week, I’m reveling in my independence—enjoying nights spent binging my favorite shows without interruption. The next, I’m scanning every room for potential partners, sizing up every man like a coach scouting fresh talent. It’s dizzying, to say the least.

This week takes me on one of those wild rides—full of ups, downs, deep reflections, and a clearer sense of what I truly want. Here’s how I navigate the emotional chaos and come out a little more self-aware.

The Initial Bliss of Freedom

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There’s something glorious about realizing I can do whatever I want, whenever I want. Spontaneous beach trip? Go. Last-minute concert? Absolutely. For a while, singleness feels like an adventure—unpredictable, exciting, and entirely mine. I love making decisions based purely on my whims.

But as days turn into weeks—and worse, months into years—the thrill starts to wear thin. I begin to feel the ache of wanting physical and emotional companionship. I start asking, “Is this it?” The spontaneity that once thrills me slowly gives way to a craving for something—or someone—more grounded.

From Craving to Seeking

I used to be firm in my decision not to get married. But once the desire for companionship creeps in, it doesn’t tiptoe—it crashes in. Suddenly, every outing feels like a potential rom-com moment. I catch myself scanning crowds and wondering, “Could he be the one?” about complete strangers in coffee shops or grocery store aisles.

I laugh at myself… but then again, what if he really could be? The craving for connection intensifies. One day at the gym, I catch myself daydreaming about the guy working out next to me. Could he be a match? Then comes the spiral: What if he’s a dud? Or worse—what if I’m not what he’s looking for?

This desire soon turns into action. I find myself practically begging friends: “Do you know anyone? Set me up!” We laugh, but I’m not entirely joking. I even ask coworkers and baristas if they know any single men. With each setup or Bumble match, the pressure builds. “What if this is my chance?” I wonder, only to be met with awkward conversations or flat-out disinterest.

And here’s where the real tension kicks in—my confidence starts to unravel. I second-guess everything: my outfit, my smile, and worry how I look at every angle. “Am I good enough?” becomes a persistent whisper in the back of my mind. Conversations that begin with hope often end in silence, and I replay each moment, wondering what I could’ve done differently. It becomes a tug-of-war between craving connection and fearing rejection. The pursuit of love starts to feel like a mirror reflecting all my insecurities.

The Shadow of Change

One fear that quietly shapes my view of relationships is rooted in my past—specifically, the changes I witnessed in my dad after his traumatic brain injury from a car accident. The man my mom describes before the accident is nothing like the one I grow up knowing.

That experience shakes my idea of what love and stability look like. I used to be terrified that anyone I fall for could one day become someone entirely different which is why I did not want to marry. The fear of unpredictable transformation lingers like a shadow over every “what if.”

Rethinking What I Want

Somewhere along the way, the pursuit of love starts to wear me out. Every coffee shop interaction, every quick glance in a crowded room begins to feel like a quiet interrogation: Is he the one? Could he be lifetime partner material? The constant analyzing becomes exhausting.

Cheonggyecheon crowded with people at night

So I pause.

Instead of continuing the mental checklist—funny, tall, ambitious—I begin asking deeper, more intentional questions: Does he love Jesus? Is he walking in faith? Would he lead me closer to God, or further away?

I used to think compatibility was about shared hobbies and chemistry. But now, I realize I want something more solid—someone who’s rooted in faith, who values prayer, worship, and discipleship. I’m not just looking for romance; I’m hoping for spiritual partnership. A man who not only says he believes but lives it. One who sharpens me, who challenges me to grow in my belief and in my submission to God’s will.

That kind of connection doesn’t come from surface-level screening. It comes from quiet discernment, from being in tune with the Spirit. So I remind myself: I don’t need to chase. I need to stay close to God—and trust that He will reveal what’s meant for me in His timing.

Maybe the better question isn’t “Is he the one?”Maybe it’s “Is this aligned with what God wants for me?”

Embracing the Waves

Despite the emotional whirlwind, there’s something unexpectedly beautiful about this season. I’m beginning to see singleness not as a holding pattern, but as a journey full of purpose. Sure, there are days clouded by self-doubt and longing, but there are also moments of deep clarity, quiet joy, and spiritual growth.

Destiny looking out over the Yellow Sea in Ganghwado

I’m learning that it’s okay to want companionship and love the independence I currently have. These desires don’t cancel each other out—they coexist, sometimes uncomfortably, but always honestly. The longing doesn’t weaken my identity; it deepens it.

As I sit with the emotions from this week, I realize the road of singleness isn’t linear. It comes in waves—some gentle, some crashing—but all capable of shaping me. I’m learning to ride those waves instead of resisting them. To trust that even in the moments of confusion, I’m being refined.

So while I continue to pray for a partner who walks faithfully with God, I’m also learning to appreciate where I am. For now, I’ll keep embracing the waves—learning, growing, and keeping my heart open.