On becoming single, staying curious and deciding what to do with your Tuesday evenings.
I hadn’t expected to be writing about being single this autumn.
Having moved back to Ireland after five years in Dubai, I thought I had a reasonably clear idea of what the next chapter would look like. There would be adjustments, certainly. A different pace of life. Considerably more knitwear. Some discussion about whether the heating really needed to be on or if a hot water bottle would do the job.
A relationship ending wasn’t part of the plan.
Yet here I am, navigating a different future from the one I had imagined, with all the questions that come with it.
There are parts of that experience I’ll keep private. But being someone who writes about intentional living, I’ve found myself thinking quite seriously about what intentionality looks like when life changes without consulting you first. You can have the planner, the priorities and the beautifully considered goals. However, life can still require some revision, and as a teacher, I should be comfortable with that. We revise plans all the time. We respond to what’s in front of us, rather than insisting on following a lesson that no longer makes sense.
It turns out I’m rather better at doing this professionally than personally.
An unexpected area of study
Recently, I read a piece by Blithe Saxon about taking up new skills and subjects following romantic disappointment. She described it as a 'breakup curriculum'.
Naturally, the teacher in me was interested.
Here was a curriculum I hadn’t encountered during my master’s. No prescribed textbooks, no inspection framework and, mercifully, no requirement to submit a fortnightly plan.
The idea stayed with me: give some of the attention you’ve been spending on your romantic life to something you’re curious about; Learn a language. Try an instrument. Take a class. Become interested in a subject you’ve never explored. I liked how practical it was, because after a breakup, there can be an extraordinary amount to think about and very little new information to think about it with. You can revisit a conversation until you know the punctuation. Discuss a decision from every conceivable angle. Develop an impressive working knowledge of someone else’s behaviour while forgetting that you once had interests beyond interpreting it.
At some point, I began wondering what else I might like to know. There is a whole world available for study. Surely some of it deserves my attention?
The timetable has changed
One of the stranger adjustments to being single is discovering how much of your time had an assumed destination. An evening together. A weekend plan. A quick call. Even the background expectation that you’ll tell someone about your day. When those habits change, time can feel rather conspicuous.
There it is: Tuesday evening.
What now?
My instinct is usually to work. There is always something to do for the business, something to write, something to improve. I can fill a spare evening before it has even had a chance to introduce itself. But I know how easily being busy can become a way of avoiding a question... What would I actually enjoy? It’s a question I want to take seriously. Particularly now, when so much feels unsettled. I’d like to have things in my diary that I’m looking forward to simply because they sound interesting. I’d like to be a beginner at something. I’d like to come home with a story that begins, “You’ll never guess what I tried.” And so, with credit to Blithe for the inspiration, I’ve been considering my own breakup curriculum.
Languages
I’m working on my confidence with spoken Irish, giving myself more opportunities to use it without mentally proofreading every sentence first. I’ve also begun learning Spanish, which means I now have three languages in which to overthink what I’m about to say. There’s something lovely about learning purely because you want to. Recognising a phrase, remembering a word, finding yourself able to say a little more than you could last week. I like having somewhere new to put my concentration. And while I can’t confidently tell you what the next year holds, I’m hoping to be able to discuss it in Spanish, even if it is just to tell you I had a lovely glass of rosé last night...Anoche me tomé una copa de rosado buenísima!
Art
This subject requires a personal boundary. I am allowed to enjoy making something without immediately wondering whether I could launch it. Anyone who runs a small business will understand how quickly an innocent interest can acquire a cost price, a supplier and a proposed release date. For this particular class, I’d like to leave those things at the door. Pottery appeals to me. So does painting. Something I can do with my hands, where my attention is occupied by what’s in front of me. I would like to make an object whose only responsibility is to exist. It may be an uneven object. We’ll call that artistic judgement.
Physical Education
I want to find an activity I enjoy enough to attend regularly. A dance class, swimming, a walking group. Something with a time and a place, where I can arrive, participate and gradually become familiar with the people around me. There’s something appealing about meeting people through a shared activity. Having an ordinary conversation. Learning someone’s name. Establishing whether we’re all equally confused by the instructions. After a period of considerable change, a recurring plan sounds quite lovely. Wednesday, seven o’clock. I know where I’m going.
Geography
Having lived abroad for five years, I know I can find my way around an unfamiliar place. Now I’d like to bring some of that curiosity home. There are parts of Ireland I’ve never properly explored, and Rio and I have some research to do. Dog-friendly hotels, lovely walks and places where I can have an excellent coffee while he receives the attention he considers his due. I’m also warming to the idea of booking a hotel stay simply because I’d like to go. If there’s a €99 bargain available, I see no reason why I shouldn’t be the one checking in. There are trips further afield I’d like to take too. Solo travel feels like its own subject: choosing a destination, making the arrangements and discovering how you like to spend a day when every decision is yours. I suspect mine will involve extensive browsing and a lunch reservation made well before any cultural itinerary. Rio, meanwhile, will be assessing the hospitality.
Home Economics
It’s tempting, when life changes, to focus exclusively on the big decisions. Where to live. What comes next. How the future is going to work. Meanwhile, dinner still needs to happen. I’d like to give some attention to making ordinary days enjoyable. Learning a few meals I love. Having a friend over. Making an evening feel considered, even when there’s no particular occasion. A life is made up of a great many unremarkable Tuesdays. I’d like mine to have something going for them.
Independent Study
This is where the curriculum becomes especially personal. What would I like to learn if nobody needed me to learn it? No professional application. No content plan. No expectation of becoming exceptionally good. Perhaps a period of history. An author I’ve never read. An instrument. A subject I know almost nothing about. I spend a lot of time thinking about purpose, and I still believe in it. But I also think there should be room for an interest to develop before we ask it what it’s for. Sometimes you pick up a book because the first page makes you want to read the second. That seems like sufficient reason.
A manageable workload
Before this begins to resemble an ambitious prospectus, I should clarify that I’m choosing one thing to start with. I have no intention of becoming fluent in Spanish while mastering the cello and producing a coordinated range of ceramics by Christmas. I know how easily I can turn an idea into a project. The appeal here is having somewhere enjoyable to put my attention. Something I can return to, gradually improve at and occasionally laugh about. There will still be evenings when I feel sad. There will be days when my preferred extracurricular activity is a walk with Rio and going to bed early. I don’t think a curriculum needs to exclude those. In a classroom, we understand that people arrive with different levels of energy, confidence and readiness. We allow time. We adjust expectations. I’d like to apply a little of that understanding to myself.
The future is still welcome
Being single has made me think about what I want, and many of those things remain the same. I still want a loving relationship. I still want a family and a home. I want to share a life with someone who is consistent, kind and enthusiastic about sharing it with me. I also want to enjoy the life I’m living while those things are uncertain. There are friendships I treasure. Work I care about. Ideas I want to pursue. And, apparently, quite a few subjects in which I have yet to receive any formal instruction. I can make room for those now.
Perhaps that is what appeals to me most about this idea. It gives me something concrete to begin, at a time when I can’t settle every question.
I can enquire about a class.
I can choose a book.
I can make a plan for Saturday.
These are small decisions, but they are mine to make.
Your first assignment
If any of this feels familiar, think of something you’ve been meaning to try. Something you enjoyed years ago. Something you keep mentioning but never book. Something that interests you even though you have no idea whether you’ll be good at it. Find out what beginning would involve. You don’t need an elaborate plan. You don’t even need to keep doing it if you discover you dislike it. The first assignment is simply to give your curiosity an appointment. As for me, I’m still deciding which subject comes first.
For once, I’m quite happy to have an incomplete timetable.
Le Grá,
Nadine x
With thanks to Blithe Saxon, whose piece in The Diary of a Lover Girl introduced me to the idea of a breakup curriculum.
