Last week, I flew to Europe to spend a month as the author-in-residence at an art school in Germany.  But I have a thing for collecting stamps in my passport, so instead of flying straight to Germany, I flew into Amsterdam, spent a few days exploring, and then took the overnight train to meet the couple I’m staying with. When I told people in the U.S. about my travel plans, several people asked, “Who are you traveling with?”

“No one,” I said. “I’m going by myself.”

I’ve traveled, gone out to eat, explored the Everglades and taken boat tours by myself.  When people ask me why I’m going alone, or raise their eyebrows, I say, “What’s the alternative? To sit home alone until some wealthy man proposes to me and takes me on a whirlwind world tour?”

No sir.

Trust me, I try to recruit friends to go with me, and sometimes they do.  But if I can’t find someone to join me, I have no qualms about having adventures by myself.

I don’t want to use my singleness as an excuse to be lazy, and I also don’t want singleness to feel like solitary confinement.  Because, guess what? It isn’t.

If anything, I want to use this season of singleness (and who knows how long it will last?)  to travel to new places and have as many adventures as possible.

The world is a big place and life is a beautiful gift, and I’m not going to wait for a partner or a million dollars or a personalized invitation to start living.