Why I've Always Kind of Felt Single, Even in Serious Relationships

I told one of my girlfriends the other day that despite being in serious relationships, I've always kind of felt single. The words came out before I'd ever consciously thought them. And then she said, me too.

Our relationship histories couldn't be more different. She had a serious relationship in her early twenties, dated short-term here and there, and then met the man she's now married to and has children with. I've had four significant relationships since college, including a marriage and an affair with a married man. Two completely different paths. Same feeling underneath all of it.

So I'm sitting with the question now: what does it actually mean to have always felt single inside relationships you wanted to be in?

What feeling single in a relationship actually means

I'm not talking about single in the woo-woo way. Not single like I want to hit the town and meet someone. I mean single in the way that I've never fully felt like a man chose me. I didn't always feel like he had my back. I didn't feel like I could exhale all the way. I didn't feel like I could trust enough to be taken care of.

Some of you are going to hear that and want to ask whether having my back means I want a yes-man. It doesn't. In private, I want radical honesty. If I'm being out of line, I want to hear it. But out in the world, I want to feel like that person is in my corner. That's what was missing across every defining relationship I've had. Not love. Not chemistry. That specific feeling of having someone fully on my side.

Why this isn't about my marriage or the affair

The easy take here is to say of course I felt single in the affair. He had a whole family. Of course I wasn't getting the full thing. And yes, that's true. He had a wife. He had a life. There was a hard ceiling on what was available, even when I felt loved and valued and cherished inside of it.

But the feeling didn't start there. The feeling has been there in every defining relationship since college. So this isn't a story about one particular man, or marriage, or infidelity. It's about a pattern that's been quietly running underneath all of it.

Falling in love with potential

Here's the question I've never asked myself before, and the one that came out of me while I was recording this episode: have I been falling in love with potential instead of who's actually sitting in front of me? Have I been signing up for what I thought a relationship could become, instead of what it was?

If that's true, then the singleness I've felt makes a lot of sense. You can't be fully met by potential. You can only be met by what's actually there. And if what was actually there wasn't enough, of course I went to bed at night still feeling like I was on my own.

I'm sitting with that one. I don't have a clean answer. I just know it's the most honest question I've asked myself about my relationship history, and I'm not done with it.

The difference between feeling lonely and feeling alone

Lonely is fleeting. You're home on a weekend, you don't have plans, you wish you did. That feeling can come and go. Alone is heavier. Alone is the sense that you don't have anyone who would actually show up for you. That's the harder one. And the worst version of it is feeling alone inside a relationship that's supposed to be the place you're not alone.

That's the part that doesn't get talked about enough.

Why "partner" doesn't fit me

I'm going to say something a little contrarian here. I don't love that partner has become the default word for boyfriend, girlfriend, husband, wife. I get why people use it. I'm not coming for anyone who does. But for me, when I'm describing the kind of relationship I want, partner sounds flat. Boyfriend, husband, ride or die, best friend — those words have something in them. Partner sounds like we co-own a small business.

That's a personal thing. But it's also part of why I'm being so specific in this episode. The language around relationships has gotten so neutral that we've lost the ability to describe what we actually want.

What I actually want now

A friend of mine made a distinction recently between companionship and best friendship. She said her husband is her ride or die, her companion, her person — but he's not always her first call when something hard happens, because she has best friends for that. And she's clear that she didn't need him to be that. She needed him for everything else.

I sat with that for a while. And what I realized is that's not what I want. I want the man to be the best friend. I want him to be the first call. I want the ride or die and the friendship in the same person. That doesn't mean my friend's version is wrong. It just means we want different things, and being honest about that is part of how you stop feeling single in a relationship that doesn't actually fit you.

Grieving the relationship you didn't get

There's a kind of grief that doesn't get named enough. It's not just the grief of a relationship ending. It's the grief of realizing you weren't getting what you needed inside of it, and then wondering whether you'll ever get it. Whether the thing you've been picturing is going to arrive. Whether you've been daydreaming for years and it was always going to stay a dream.

I'm an optimist. I do believe it's coming. But I'd be lying if I said I don't have moments of wondering.

If you're somewhere in this — partnered and quietly feeling single, single and grieving the relationship you wanted, somewhere in between — you're not the only one. My friend and I had completely different relationship histories and landed in the same feeling. That tells me there's a lot more of us than anyone's saying out loud.

Frequently Asked Questions

What does it mean to feel single in a relationship? Feeling single in a relationship usually means you're partnered but you don't feel fully met, supported, or seen. It's the sense that you're still doing life on your own emotionally, even though you're technically with someone. It's not about wanting to be single — it's about not feeling like a man has actually chosen you.

Why do I feel alone in my marriage? Feeling alone in a marriage often comes from emotional disconnection rather than time apart. You can be married to someone who loves you and still feel alone if you don't feel deeply known, supported, or in their corner. It's especially common when one or both people have grown or changed and the relationship hasn't kept up.

What's the difference between feeling lonely and feeling alone? Feeling lonely is usually situational and fleeting — like a quiet weekend without plans. Feeling alone runs deeper. It's the sense that you don't have someone who would truly show up for you. You can feel alone even when surrounded by people, especially if the key person in your life isn't filling that role.

Is it normal to feel single in a relationship? It's more common than people admit. A lot of women in serious relationships and marriages quietly feel single, especially when they don't feel fully supported or chosen by their partner. It doesn't automatically mean the relationship is wrong, but it's worth paying attention to instead of dismissing.

How do I stop feeling single in a relationship? Start by getting honest about what you actually need versus what you're getting. A lot of women have been falling in love with potential — what a relationship could become — instead of what's actually there. Naming the gap between the two is usually the first step.

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