I'm too Lazy to Date

but I don't want to be single so lets change this

There’s a strange comfort in being alone. I think we all know it. You start out feeling a little lonely, a bit lost, unsure of how to fill the silence, the empty corners of your life that are supposed to be brimming with connection, affection, and all the things they promise in rom-coms. But over time, something shifts. You get used to the quiet. The silence isn’t deafening anymore; it’s just yours.

I didn’t mean to get this comfortable, to be honest. It sort of crept up on me like a slow, inevitable tide. First, it was just an evening in one night of Netflix and Chinese takeaway (the one with too many chicken balls). Then, it became a weekend, just me, my books, and a cup of tea I could drink in peace. Pretty soon, I was booking solo dates to the cinema, I bought myself flowers, took myself on dates, and stopped dressing for the male gaze. I was single and I was, dare I say it, thriving.

But somewhere in the middle of this solo renaissance, something happened. I got lazy.

I am fully in my Phoebe Era and I am so okay with that

I used to have this urgency inside me. The one that said, "You’re going to meet someone, you’re going to find the one. You’re going to fall in love, make a life, build something together." That excitement about meeting new people, about possibly having a whirlwind romance, about falling in love under the most unpredictable, cinematic of circumstances those thoughts used to be my daily fuel. Now, they’re buried somewhere beneath a pile of blankets, untouched by the outside world.

I still dream of falling in love. I still want the late-night conversations that turn into sunrise breakfasts, the arms around me that feel like home, the quiet mornings with someone who makes me laugh and keeps me warm on cold days. I want the one. I want someone who shows up at the right time, when I’m ready, with all the right timing and chemistry and fate, just like they tell you in the movies.

But in reality, I’ve become so used to my own space, my own rhythms, my own comfort, that even though I crave connection, I’m just… too lazy to go out and find it. I can’t remember the last time I swiped on a dating app and I don’t have a long list of friends who can set me up on a blind date, no good looking co-worker to flirt with while we wait for the meeting room to be free (sorry to anyone from work reading this).

So now that my frontal lobe has finally fully developed (thanks, brain), it’s become glaringly obvious that I need to stop reading about romance and actually start living it. I want that electric feeling of first kisses, the flutter in your stomach when you realise you can’t stop thinking about someone. I’ve got a good life. A great one, even fantastic friends, amazing opportunities, and the occasional spontaneous weekend trip to keep things interesting. But the thing is, I’m starting to think that all of this could be even better with someone to share it with. I need someone who’ll add to my life, not just be a footnote to it.

But… I’m also terrified. Terrified of the effort. Terrified of rejection. Terrified of putting myself out there and not having it work out, which would mean breaking my own peace, disturbing my sanctuary, my rhythm. It’s easier to just let the fantasy live in my head. It’s safer to dream about love than to actually pursue it, because what if I’m just too comfortable with myself to make room for someone else?

Lets hope I find my Mike (or just start dating Paul Rudd)

Alright, here’s the plan: in two months, I’m going to look back at this blog post and write part 2. I’ll have forced myself onto a date. I’m downloading the apps (no more procrastination), I’m going to start listening to Call Her Daddy like a woman on a mission, and I’ll be picking the very best photos that make me look like I’m casually glowing from the inside out. I’m going to get myself into a romantic mood I’ll take walks on Sundays with a coffee in hand, pretending I’m the type of person who’s got it all together. I’ll get dressed up for a pub drink, fully embracing the "I just came from the office" energy, and making everyone believe that, yes, I always look this effortlessly glamorous. I’m going to have fun. I’m going to enjoy dating at 25 even if I have to trick myself into believing I’m ready. Because, honestly, I am. Sort of.

About Twenty Five Reset

Hi, I’m Niamh, and everyone was right—25 really is a turning point. I finally know who I am, what I want, and my purpose… but it’s nothing like I expected.

I work in TV, but it doesn’t define me. This space is my reset—embracing the mess, reflecting, and creating again. You can expect:

• Personal Diary Entries

• Talks of the timeline (Most Wednesdays)

• Pop Culture and a lot of chats about 2000 - 2020 TV Shows

• Monthly Reports

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