The Year I Forgot to Date
One accidental boysober year in NYC, zero dates, and a surprising amount of clarity.
I didn’t set out to stop dating. There was no grand declaration, no heartbreak-induced vow. But a few months ago, I realized something surprising: I hadn’t gone on a date in nearly a year. I hadn’t flirted, kissed, or gone home with anyone. Without meaning to, I had gone boysober in New York City, and I felt better than I had in a long time.
Whenever I caught up with friends or family, they’d ask, “Any dating updates?” My answer was always the same: “Not much happening, but I’m not worried. New York is big.” And I believed that. I wasn’t anxious, just... occupied.
But eventually, I noticed how long that answer had been true. Almost a year of turning inward. A year of skipping the apps, the awkward first dates, the disappointing one-night stands. A year of reclaiming my time and energy. Of protecting my peace.
It’s not that I don’t miss aspects of dating. I do. I miss the spark, tenderness, and excitement of genuinely liking someone. I’ve even wondered if I could detach enough for a casual fling. But then I check in with myself: Do I like how I feel afterward? Am I doing this because I want to, or because it’s what I think I’m supposed to settle for?
Truthfully, casual has never fit me. I’m a Pisces. I gravitate toward love stories in books, in film, in the way I dress and express myself. I’m the “write about you in my diary, romanticize your laugh, remember your coffee order” kind of person. And yet, for a long time, I continued to accept connections that didn’t reflect that.
Recently, a friend sent me a podcast about a woman who intentionally went boysober for a year. Her reasons were different, but it made me pause. I began reflecting on my own relationship history, not just who I dated, but how I showed up, what patterns I repeated, and what dynamics I kept recreating.
In my last serious relationship, I was in the middle of untangling a deeply codependent relationship with my mother. I felt abandoned, and I entered the relationship from that place of longing and pain. I wanted to be rescued. And unsurprisingly, I ended up being treated like someone who needed saving. That dynamic turned toxic, fast, and I didn’t fully understand how my behavior contributed to the situation until much later.
When I stopped dating, I stopped outsourcing validation. I was able to focus on what I wanted and who I wanted to be. It allowed me to sort through past situationships and relationships, picking out the things I liked and figuring out what didn’t work for me. When I continued dating without taking the time to seriously reflect on the type of person I want in my life and the kind of life I actually wanted, it kept me in a cycle that made me miserable.
This kind of reflection isn’t exclusive to a dating detox. But stepping back gave me the clarity I needed to do it honestly. It wasn’t about becoming bitter or avoidant; it was about choosing intention over impulse.
Dating in New York can feel like a performance. A game. A numbers race. But pressing pause showed me how much of myself I had been bending to meet other people’s expectations, and how powerful it felt to opt out of that cycle.
I don’t know when I’ll start dating again. But I do know that when I do, I’ll be arriving as someone who knows herself better. And that’s the kind of love I want to make space for.
If your situationship history reads like a Craigslist listing—unclear, emotionally unavailable, and somehow still costs you way too much—go ahead and subscribe.