I’m single. And 32. The fear of this predicament didn’t surface until around age 31. Since then it’s made up for the late mental alert by steadily simmering until it recently reached boil-point status. My story isn’t unique. Not to any of the other single females in their thirties lolling around today wondering how they ended up wanting a boyfriend but not having one at a pivotal life juncture.

I spent the second half of my twenties blissfully happy in my single state and unintentionally nonchalant about males hitting on me, asking me out on dates or trying to be my boyfriend. Sunday mornings were usually spent with girlfriends, debriefing the previous nights’ events and men. Scenarios ranged from losing the number of a hot boy, a random party kiss or looking through photos to discover yourself with a handsome man you couldn’t remember. The moral of the story: we lamented good opportunities missed, but generally didn’t carry it further than midday. I wasn’t on the search for a boyfriend and I was in my twenties! Even at 29, just a year or so off impending fear-scape, the thought of entering my thirties without a partner was a total non event.

Then came the shift in my generational landscape. This was a product of most people I found myself in the company of completing the orderly steps of marriage and children, right on schedule. Comparisons in the face of this are tough to ignore, let alone shake. I also, quite remarkably, had suddenly acquired a new-found and incessant skill of tuning into every pop culture reference that honed in on the loveless individual. When coupled people listen to Sigma’s ‘Nobody To Love’, it’s likely and entirely acceptable they hear a glorious pop-techno celebration. But when I hear it, it’s like Sigma has put the gig on specifically for me, is shining lasers and strobe lights directly into my retinas and is forcing me to dance – but not for too long because I better go find a husband, quick.

All of this can be quite pressing on a girl’s mind. After several nights (over several months) of deep mind analysis, into-the-past voyages, sibling phone workshops and drinking more than recommended, I did a successful job of getting rid of the (ridiculous and unnecessary) comparisons I was making between myself and the wedded-with-kids. Where did I find myself after the full-circle brain battering-turn-enlightenment? In the exact same place I was before fear-scape: in the middle of living my life. My life, which, bar a few hiccups along the way ranging from mild to life-threatening, has and continues to be pretty fucking amazing. Do I still want a husband and kids? Of course I do. It’s in my female make-up. But I’m learning not to waste my current situation of ultimate freedom worrying about a schedule paradigm that I am apparently experiencing differently to some other people.

I spent last weekend hanging out with a friend I haven’t sat down with properly for a long time. She’s single too. We talked for hours on the subject of finding our men and everything in between and it was comforting and inspiring. But the truth is, that’s all we can do – talk about it. What we’re dealing with here is the great unknown and no matter how many times you want to ask the question, the answer doesn’t exist. This brings me to today. The 30s Search is on. For a good man yes, but really, for life. Feel the fear, then lean straight into it.