There’s a moment in your mid-20s when it starts to shift — and it feels especially loud right before Valentine’s Day. Group chats become quieter on Friday nights, plans need to be “run by” someone, and suddenly, you’re the last one ordering for one.

Being the single friend in the group isn’t always a big dramatic thing. Sometimes it’s just… subtle. Like sitting across from three couples at dinner and realizing you’re the seventh wheel. Or hearing about weekend plans that include boyfriends by default, even when no one meant to leave you out.

You’re genuinely happy for your friends — and I mean that. You’ve seen their relationships grow, you know how much love and effort they’ve poured in, and you wouldn’t want anything less for them. But at the same time, it can feel a little isolating. Especially around a holiday that seems designed to spotlight exactly what you don’t have. It can feel like you’re in a different season, watching theirs unfold from the outside.

There’s a weird tension that comes with it. You’re both grateful for your independence and tired of it. You love the freedom, but you also get tired of doing everything alone. You’re not desperate for a relationship, but you do crave connection — and it’s easy to feel like you’re falling behind when everyone else seems to be settling down.

There’s also this quiet thought that creeps in sometimes — that you don’t want to bother your friends. They’re busy. They’re building their lives with someone. They have plans, routines, new priorities. And even if they would drop everything for you, you start to convince yourself not to interrupt, not to be a bother, not to take up too much space. So you hold things in. You tell yourself you’ll wait until they’re free, until it’s more convenient, until you’re less emotional about whatever it is. But in doing that, there’s this small, uncomfortable feeling of being left behind. Like life is moving forward for everyone else in pairs, and you’re just trying to quietly keep up on your own.

Sometimes, you don’t want advice or reassurance. You don’t want to be told, “you’re just being picky” or “it’ll happen when you least expect it.” You just want someone to sit with you in it. To say, “Yeah, I get it. It’s hard sometimes.” Because it is.

But here’s the part I remind myself of often: being single doesn’t mean you’re lacking. It doesn’t make you less whole, less wise, or less worthy. If anything, it makes you more in tune with what you want, because you’ve taken the time to get to know yourself first.

So if you’re the single friend this Valentine’s Day, you’re not alone. You’re just in your own lane, and that lane is still going somewhere meaningful. It’s still love, just a different kind.

And maybe, just maybe, when love does come, you’ll greet it not as someone who was waiting to be chosen, but as someone who chose themselves first.

Love, Laura