It's a humid summer's night and I'm in Soho waiting for my best friend/major crush/sometime snog to turn up for drinks. Just like Emma in One Day's restaurant scene, I've made an effort to look nice. My hair is blow-dried, I'm wearing a Topshop floral tea dress and test-driving smudgy winged eyeliner. Watching the hit series on Netflix, I can almost feel the same lovestruck flush creep up into my cheeks that I felt 15 years ago.
It's 2024's Normal People, but bigger.
I met my Dexter equivalent at school. He was cocky and arrogant – I couldn't stand him. I can't remember what eventually threw us together but we ended up becoming best friends at college. I watched him date a succession of beautiful, confident private school girls with shampoo-ad worthy hair that they would flick flirtatiously over their shoulders or curl nonchalantly around their fingers when talking to him. I was awkward by comparison and waited in the wings for the inevitable break up when he needed a friend to talk to.
When we left college, we wrote letters rather than emails, filled with the usual banter and lyrics to songs that reflected our friendship. I still have them in a box somewhere in the loft, along with a diary where I laid bare my secret feelings for him. He was my first love.
But it wasn't until one night, a few weeks before we started university, that we kissed. If I was a cartoon character, my speech bubble would have been filled with hearts. It changed everything. And nothing. We stayed up until sunrise, at which point we took the very adult decision that we were going to universities at opposite ends of the country so it couldn't be any more than just one night.
Throughout my 20s, our paths often crossed. But timing was never our strong point. We were never single at the same time so we never properly got together like Dexter and Emma, although there was always this weird sexual tension between us and we would break away from the rest of the group to hang out together alone. We eventually ended up drifting apart.
Aside from the nostalgic soundtrack, watching One Day made me realise how much I miss speaking to that person who knows me better than anyone else. But mostly I'm surprised that a TV series has made me confront an unspoken, white-knuckle fear: I'm terrified of never finding love again.
From a throwback aftershave to the epic soundtrack.
My last serious relationship ended six years ago and in utter heartbreak. That time I really did think I'd found ‘The One’ and months of therapy and a trip to India to ‘find myself’ followed. When I eventually did get over him, I suppose I just assumed I'd meet someone else and fall madly in love. I've always set goals and worked hard to achieve them, so why should dating be any different?
But the hard fact is, finding love is one aspect of my life I can't control. “Dating is a mutual process where both individuals contribute, and success isn't guaranteed solely based on effort," psychotherapist and relationship coach Heather Garbutt tells me. "Expecting a prize for putting in the work in dating can lead to entitlement and disappointment. Relationships require compatibility, communication, and emotional connection, which can't always be earned through effort alone.
“We can’t control chemistry or how another person feels,” she continues. "Instead of expecting a reward, it's healthier to focus on building meaningful connections. Not every interaction will lead to a successful relationship, and setbacks are a natural part of the process of finding a compatible partner.”
So love may or may not happen. And as one friend rightly points out, I could be married with children if I wanted, but it has been my choice not to settle for anyone other than my soulmate. I'll always be hopeful that one day I'll meet him. But for now, confronting and owning my fear of being alone is proving to be a way of taking back some control.
“It can be a positive thing because it empowers you to take proactive steps to address your fears and work towards finding fulfilment and happiness in your life, whether or not you're in a romantic relationship," Heather adds. "When you're comfortable with your own company and self-sufficient, you're less likely to settle for unhealthy or unfulfilling relationships out of fear of being alone. It's natural to have fears and insecurities, and you're not alone in experiencing them.”
Besides, one behavioural scientist found that single women are more likely to be happier and live longer than their married peers, so perhaps it isn't all bad.
Of course, Valentine's Day can feel like rubbing salt in the wound for singletons everywhere. But missing out on a bouquet of red roses doesn't mean I'll be moping around today. Or re-watching One Day while mainlining chocolate digestives with only my cat for company (although that is tempting). A silver lining of confronting your fear of being alone is that it also allows you to “focus on building a strong sense of self-worth and self-love independent of external validation or relationships," says Heather. It also allows you to "explore your interests, pursue personal goals, and invest in self-discovery.”
Maybe I'll take the time to work out what is going to give my life purpose and use the freedom I have to pursue it. I could write the book I've always imagined I would write – heck, I could write a whole series. I could be the most kick-ass godmother. Because here's the thing: I'll never be without love. It may just be a different kind of love – the love of my family and the incredible female friendships my life is blessed with. And that's OK.
Anyway, I'm told that thanks to Taylor Swift and her viral Time Magazine cover, being a cat lady is cool these days.
For more from Fiona Embleton, GLAMOUR's Associate Beauty Director, follow her on @fiembleton.
