There’s been a noticeable rise of individualism lately, specifically to directly threaten the idea of partnerships, romantic and platonic. 

We’re living in an era of emotional fear, bred from a rather cyclical pattern: we fall in love, we’re rejected, we then turn to isolation so no one can hurt us again. And in our isolated states, we harden. We develop an impenetrable shield, one that essentially punishes those who even try to come close.

And where does that lead us?

Well, those that are barred by our emotional security systems feel the pain of that rejection. So, guess what? That cynical pattern continues, now in the form of a different host.

But then, something even more sinister takes place. 

Everyone is now in their own swivel of emotional destruction. With nothing else to do but sulk in their scorn, people are becoming just plain mean. The love playing field has a cutting edge. All around it are the outstretched blades of sardonicism that cut those who aren’t even playing the game. People, soured by the fear of rejection, begin rejecting people who aren’t even making advances, tearing down confidence and causing everyone to question their self-worth. It’s a complete frenzy. 

Where did this all start?

It’s not hard to find the origin of the debris that clutters the zeitgeist of the 2000s. All you have to do is look to the ever-crumbling pillar of social media. The one that’s constantly breaking apart, with pieces crushing entire lifestyles and belief systems. 

As a collective, we were never meant to be this accessible to each other. 

What makes love so profound is how special it is. The connection you have with one human being will always be unique, something that you’ll never find with anyone else or within anything else. Relationships are constantly losing their novelty. When bonds were formed in the real world, we felt like we really earned it. How amazing it used to be that we could run into someone at the park or at a restaurant or at the grocery store, and they’d become our best friend or maybe even our future spouse. Before one fateful day, you lived a life without someone, and the next, you can’t imagine living without them. You even wonder how you made it so far before they blessed your life with their presence!

Now, we all seemingly exist within the palms of each other’s hands–in the digital realm. Yeah, you might get along really well with your coworker, but who’s to say you can’t get along even better with someone from Tinder? You see someone attractive at the bar, but you’re not going to talk to them because that influencer you follow on Instagram is much cuter, and you could totally do better than some rando at a bar, right? 

We’re replacing humanity with digitalized potential. People aren’t people to us anymore. They’re options, and we’re always under the assumption that, regardless of who you may meet, there’s someone better out there, just waiting for us. So we keep closing doors, burning bridges, and locking ourselves away. 

And this begins the cycle of constant rejection. 

Because there may be someone better, we refuse to settle. You may have met the person of your dreams, but unfortunately, your dreams are constantly evolving. There are reminders everywhere that you shouldn’t settle for anything less than what you want, so now we’re striving for perfection always. So, you push them away. You hope for your perfect match. But your perfect match could’ve been right in front of you. 

Not too long ago, I met a man I was sure I was going to marry. He’s patient, loving, fun–an answered prayer. 

But I didn’t like some of his stupid jokes. And we were from such different backgrounds. And his parents were everything my parents weren’t, and I couldn’t always relate to him. And so I concluded that I would be happier with someone different. Someone to whom I could relate more, someone whose jokes landed with me every single time. And it ended. And guess what? I was, and am still, completely devastated.

I met the man I had always wanted, but I convinced myself that there was someone better. And now, I’m sitting at my desk, writing this article, single and heartbroken. Better never came. I realized, too little too late, that he was everything I wanted. Sure, there’s someone else out there. But I don’t want someone else. I want him. And now, he’s gone.

I’m beginning to project the anger I feel with myself onto others. I hate when other men talk to me. And they hate that I hate when they talk to me. And, eventually, when I am ready to date again, there will always be a piece of me that I withhold. As will be the case with my ex-boyfriend. And possibly my future one, as well.

We’re all hurting in some way. And everyone is afraid of each other. We’re all in emotional crisis mode, manifesting in the form of isolation. We’re grieving, we’re upset, or, maybe, we’re just holding out for better, which may never actually arrive.