Learning to Love Myself First.

Learning to Love Myself First.

By Ollie

I’ve been thinking a lot about love lately — what it means to me, the love I already possess, and the kind I’m searching for. Everyone has their own opinion, and I find it fascinating to talk about. If you listen to music, read books, or look at paintings, love is everywhere. It’s a kind of cosmic force connecting us all. Wars have been fought over it, lives lost and created because of it. Love is everywhere.

I think there’s a lot of pressure on young people to find love. As you get older, it feels like time is running out, like you’re slipping past your prime. You hear people say, “I wish I’d appreciated how I looked when I was younger” or “If I could only relive my 20s for a day.” Well, as someone in my 20s just getting on with life rather than “living it up,” you can see why that stresses me out.

Shows like Sex and the City and Girls only amplify the pressure — portraying hot, young single people who seem to live in a bubble of constant dates, parties, and flings. I’m no prude, but like many ordinary people I know, my life is far more routine. I don’t live in New York in the noughties.

Drinks are too expensive, clubs are packed, and the dating pool feels different now. The Mr Bigs and Aidans have been replaced with antisocial, emotionally immature Gen Zs who struggle to hold a decent conversation. It doesn’t exactly inspire hope. I often find myself yearning for a time when people could just talk, dance, and drink without worrying about the grind of tomorrow, the long trek home, or the risks that now hover over everything.

And it’s not just inflation or political correctness — the energy has shifted. Dating apps have made us a culture of supply and demand. You can order a hookup faster than a Deliveroo curry. With endless options at their fingertips, many guys don’t feel the need to impress or even be kind. If you’re not willing to bend over backwards (literally and figuratively), they’ll just swipe to the next. Nothing feels sacred.

But I promise I’m not a total pessimist. Here’s where the optimism comes in: while technology has tainted the way we date, I think self-love is on the rise. More and more people I know are rejecting these norms and focusing on themselves. Yes, it can feel isolating, especially when TikTok is full of people flaunting their “perfect” lives, but it’s also freeing. There are no limits to what you can do alone.

So many times I’ve seen a cute café or activity online and thought, “If only I had a boyfriend to take me there.” Then I just go by myself. Did I die? Did the world end? No. The shame I used to feel about solitude has melted away. You realise quickly that the world doesn’t revolve around you — and no one cares.

I’m not giving up on love, and I’m not putting walls around myself. But I am choosing self-love over half-hearted attempts. Meeting someone organically is harder now, but not impossible. I’d rather wait for the right guy to show up at his own pace than force something artificial through an app. There’s a reason friendship often last the longest — because they grow naturally, out of shared places, towns, or coincidences.

Self-love is undervalued in a society obsessed with quantity over quality. Yet it’s the most powerful form of love. When your passion comes from within, you don’t need to chase it in someone else, or in a job, or in some elusive sense of “meaning.” You can just exist as yourself, unapologetically. Everything else — relationships, opportunities, joy — is just a bonus.

I want readers to recognise that we all have the capacity to love ourselves. It’s not natural to constantly compare, critique, and chastise — those are learned behaviours. Think back to childhood, before you knew any of that. People are taught to dislike themselves, to apologise for who they are. But aren’t those same quirks and qualities the very things your loved ones adore? If so, then aren’t they also the things others could find attractive?

So, stop looking outward. Start looking in.

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