PING! My phone goes off and I instantly start wondering—was it the guy I matched with on Hinge? Or maybe the one I messaged on Bumble?
To my delight (sarcasm), it was neither… just a courtesy email from Specsavers. I don’t even go to Specsavers anymore.

Ah, the disappointment.

There’s something about being in your twenties that makes love feel both impossibly close and impossibly far. I scroll through engagement announcements while eating my cereal, wondering if I’ve missed some secret train that everyone else managed to catch.

I’ve always been a lover girl. The kind who romanticises the way someone holds a coffee cup, or how a song lyric hits on a rainy Tuesday. But when the world keeps telling you to “stop looking,” “be chill,” or “focus on yourself,” it gets confusing.
How do you stay soft and hopeful when love doesn’t show up the way you hoped it would?

I love love.
The butterflies. The deep chats at 1 a.m. The kind of eye contact that feels like it knows your whole soul. Give me the chaos and the calm, the good morning texts and the forehead kisses—I want it all.

But here I am, nearly three years single, still dodging the occasional “So, are you seeing anyone?” like it’s an Olympic sport.
And honestly? Some days I feel empowered and content. Other days? I feel like I’m watching everyone else move forward while I’m still sitting at the platform with a suitcase full of good intentions and no train in sight.

This isn’t a cry for help. And it’s definitely not a “woe is me” post. It’s just the reality of being a romantic in a world that keeps telling you to be realistic.
It’s about what it’s like to still believe in soulmates when dating apps feel like a bad episode of Black Mirror.
It’s about holding space for longing—without shame.

I guess this is my love letter to… love.
And to everyone else who’s ever felt a little behind, a little bruised, or a little too soft for this world.

💗 The Lover Girl Identity

If you asked me what it means to be a “lover girl”?
I’d say it’s someone who feels deeply, craves connection, and romanticises everything (in the best and worst ways). I mean—I was raised on hardcore Bollywood, what do you expect?

That said, I’ve become more realistic over the past few years. I know love isn’t always a fairy tale, and honestly, I don’t need it to be. What I want now is a partner in life—someone to ride the rollercoaster with. Someone to grow with, and build a team together.

I’ve always imagined love showing up in the most organic, authentic way—and yes, maybe when I least expect it (because apparently the universe loves a surprise plot twist). And actually, I do believe that to an extent. Because when I look back, most of the situationships or relationships I’ve had did come out of nowhere. At first, I thought, “Okay, this feels exciting. Let’s see where it goes…”

But—and it’s a big but—therapy taught me to look deeper.

What I used to label as love was often just… transaction. It felt intoxicating to be the centre of someone’s attention. To be chosen.
But was I actually choosing them back?

I started to ask myself things I hadn’t before:

• Do our values actually align?
  
• How do I feel in this connection, beyond the butterflies?
  
• Am I obsessed with them, or am I just thrilled they’re obsessed with me?
  

Younger Ren didn’t know how to ask those questions. And that’s okay.
She was learning.

🌷 Soft in a Cynical World

There’s a lot of beauty—and heartbreak—in being someone who still believes in love in a world that often feels cynical.
To hold out hope for something real in a dating culture built on swipes, ghosting, and “situationships” feels almost rebellious.

I know what people might think: that I’m too soft. Too romantic. Too much.
But honestly? I’d rather be too much than emotionally unavailable.
I’d rather believe in slow Sundays and lingering hugs than pretend I don’t care.

It’s not easy, though.
Sometimes it hurts to keep that part of myself alive. Because when you still believe in love, every moment of waiting feels a little more tender.

But still—I believe.

And I’d rather hold out for the kind of love that feels like home than settle for anything less.

💫 The Twenties Love Maze

I had a really wholesome and honest conversation with a friend the other day. We both agreed that every decade brings its own turbulence – but your twenties? They feel like one giant question mark.
Who am I? What am I doing? Who are my people?

In your teens, the chaos was mostly hormones and exams. It was, “What’s next? Sixth form? Uni? Gap year?” But your twenties are something else. It’s like realising you’ve graduated into adult life…

When it comes to love in your twenties, it’s about putting yourself out there—which sounds empowering in theory, until it starts to feel like uploading your romantic CV to the internet.
Dating apps? They make me feel like I’m being assessed on how many languages I can speak, what my top Spotify artists are, and whether my 8km radius is emotionally available.

You’ve probably sensed it. I’m not a fan.
I know they’ve worked for loads of people (shoutout to the Hinge-to-marriage pipeline!) but my experience has been pure frustration. 

Let me give you a prime example.
(Don’t worry—I’m calling him ‘Guy’ for anonymity… and also because that’s about as deep as the conversation got.)

---

Guy:
Hey

Me:
Hello! How are you?

Guy:
Good thanks, you?

At this point I already felt like giving up lol 

Me:
I’m good thank you. You’ve got some cool hobbies on your profile!

Guy:
Yeah

Can I just give up now? This is dire .. but after a minute later 

Guy:
Where do you live?

Me:
Corby 🙂 What about you?

Guy:
Ah cool I know where that is. Want to meet up?

Me:
Yeah that would be nice! What do you fancy? We could go to a bar?

Guy:
Can do

If anyone knows me, you’ll know I HATE the phrase “can do.”
I don’t know why, it just gives “bare minimum energy.”

Me:
If you had something else in mind, I’d be happy to hear it?

Guy:
I dunno. Probably just chill in the car?

Me:
Probably not.

Immediately unmatched.
Deleted the app.
Told my friends.
Re-evaluated everything.

And that, dear reader, is why dating apps feel so off to me.

---

The contrast between where I am and where some of my friends are feels… weird.
I’ve got friends getting engaged, friends planning weddings, friends calling me to say “Will you be my bridesmaid?” And don’t get me wrong – when my close friend asked me, I got emotional. What an honour. But it’s also surreal to realise we’re now at the stage where her priority is centrepieces and wedding favours… and mine is making sure I’ve had two litres of water. It’s not jealousy. It’s not bitterness. It’s just… this strange, quiet difference in pace. And some days, that difference stings a little more than others.

To all my friends walking down the aisle – I love you deeply. I’m just over here, waiting for someone who doesn’t say ‘can do’.

❤️‍🔥 What Love Looks Like Right Now

It’s a little ironic, really—because even though I don’t have relationship love right now, I have love in abundance. Friendship, family, travel, tiny moments with strangers that catch you off guard and linger. Love shows up in unexpected places—and lately, I’ve started noticing it everywhere.

💕 Friendship, My Chosen Family

As someone without siblings, my friends are my family. I hold them close, and they hold me just as tight.
To my besties, this one’s for you!
Thank you for carrying me through breakdowns, hyping me through my highs, and sticking through every weird, wild, and winding chapter. You’ve called out my bullshit when I’ve needed it and picked up the pieces when it all went to pot.

Girlies… if and when we become mums, let’s still call each other on a Tuesday night just to cry about sleep schedules and share baby food hacks. Let’s not lose this.

👨‍👩‍👧 Family: Our Little Trio

I feel incredibly blessed to have the relationship I do with my parents.
It hasn’t always been easy—especially as I’ve gotten older and started craving my own space—but something shifted after I came back from travelling.
I’ve become so close to my mum. She’s my right leg, and I’m… well, her arm, nostril, ear lobe—you name it. (Sometimes she relies on me for a lot—but don’t worry Anita, I’ll always be there for you like you are for me.)

It’s been almost six months since I’ve been back, and we haven’t clashed—touch wood. We’re stronger than ever, and I honestly can’t imagine my life without her now.

And my dad, he turns 80 next year.
It’s strange, witnessing your parents get older. He’s not very mobile, so there are things we don’t get to do together like other people might with their dads. But I’ve stopped comparing. I’ve started just being present with what I have.
We’re a little family, but it’s enough. It’s us. And I’m grateful.

✈️ Travel Love: A Chapter of Becoming

Travel was one of the most romantic chapters of my life—and I’m not talking about falling in love with someone else, or the amazing travel friends I made.
I fell in love with myself.

It wasn’t always smooth (if you’ve read my other posts, you’ll know). But it cracked something open in me. I made friends out of strangers. I gave out my number without fear. I approached people with warmth and curiosity—and never once felt rejected.

I also realised how much I love the sun, nature, and the water. I’m deeply drawn to being near the ocean or waterfalls—they ground me in a way nothing else does.
And hiking! It’s only in the past few years I’ve discovered that part of me.

One day, I’d love to live near the coast. Write from there. Wake up to the sound of water. Let that version of love find me, too.

💗 Learning to Love Myself Through Loneliness

Now comes the kind of love I’m still learning—the hardest one, but maybe the most important:
Learning to love myself through loneliness.

There’s a quiet kind of strength that comes from being alone—not by choice necessarily, but by circumstance.
When the noise fades and the distractions are gone, you’re left with yourself. And slowly—softly—you realise that your own company isn’t something to escape.
It’s something to return to.

I’ve had to become my own cheerleader on days where it felt like no one saw me. I’ve taken myself out for coffee, journaled through the sadness, made solo playlists that sound like love letters to the woman I’m becoming.

It hasn’t always been graceful.
Sometimes self-love looks like a face mask and a rom-com. Other times, it looks like crying on the kitchen floor and then cleaning it up because no one else will.
But through it all—I’ve been with myself.
And that has to mean something.

🏡 The Kind of Love I Won’t Settle For

I used to think love was about someone picking me.
Now I know—it’s about how I feel when I’m with them.

I won’t settle for love that only texts when it’s convenient.
I won’t settle for attention dressed up as care.
I won’t settle for almosts, maybes, or “can do.”

I want someone who meets me with the same softness I offer the world.
Someone who isn’t afraid to show up fully—mess and all.
Someone who sees my tenderness not as a weakness, but as a reason to stay.

I’m not asking for perfect.
I’m asking for honest.
I’m asking for present.
I’m asking for safe.

The kind of love I’m waiting for doesn’t make me question my worth.
It makes me feel like home.

✨ The Hopeful Close

The kind of relationship I dream of is rooted in ease.
Someone to ramble with, share food with, get lost in cities with, laugh uncontrollably with. Someone who sees me—really sees me—and hears me, too.

When I look at my girls and their partners, I genuinely think: Wow, they’ve found some utter gems. So maybe—just maybe—that could be me one day too.
And if I’m honest, seventh-wheeling through a few ups and downs has taught me a lot about the kind of relationship I’d actually like. Sometimes watching from the outside gives you the clearest view.

I even have the Evans wedding coming up in France in a few weeks—and what a beautiful thing it will be, to celebrate love in full bloom. I’ll be there with a full heart, a full glass of wine, cheering on a love story while still holding space for my own.

Being single has also made me a full person—even if it’s still bloody hard sometimes.

So maybe I don’t have the big love story just yet.
Maybe I’m still learning how to hold my own hand first.
But I’m not empty.

My life is full of laughter, quiet joy, late-night voice notes, long walks, healing chats, and dreams that are still unfolding.
I still believe in love—not just the romantic kind, but the everyday kind.
The kind that lives in friendship, in family, in sunlight on your face, and in strangers who somehow feel like soulmates.

Maybe I’m not behind.
Maybe I’m just building the kind of life that love will one day be lucky to join.

Right now, I’m imagining my life like Friends—and I’m only in Season Two.  I shouldn’t worry about the storyline just yet. The best chapters are still being written (metaphorically and literally).

And one day, I hope the kind of love I’ve been holding space for does show up.
But until then, I’ll be right here—choosing myself, loving gently, and believing it’s still coming.
Because the story isn’t over yet.
Not even close.