One Is Enough

I don’t know when it started, but somewhere between my friends swiping right on dating apps and my colleagues discussing “options” like shopping lists, I began to feel oddly out of place.

“Bro, you won’t know what you want unless you try,” someone once told me. They said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world—like selecting between flavors of ice cream. I nodded, smiled, even laughed a little. But inside, I was just… blank. I didn’t relate.

See, I’ve never believed in trial and error when it comes to people. For me, it’s never been about how many. It’s always been about who. That one person. The right one. The one who makes time stop for a second, who silences all noise in your head. And no, that doesn’t mean they’ll be perfect. It just means they’ll feel right—without effort, without doubt.

It happened to me once.

She wasn’t the loudest in the room. She didn’t flirt with everyone or try to be seen. In fact, she hardly tried at all. She just… was. And the way she looked at things, the way she didn’t try to impress, was what pulled me in. It was in the way she asked questions—not out of formality, but out of curiosity. Genuine. Rare.

We didn’t talk much in the beginning. Just casual exchanges—borrowed pens, shared elevator rides. But it felt enough. Like I was slowly reading a book where every page mattered. No need to rush. No need to flip ahead to the ending.

Then came the conversations. Real ones. About life, pain, family, late-night thoughts. She didn’t wear a mask. Neither did I. And even in her silence, I felt understood.

That’s when I knew: I didn’t need five more people. Or ten. I didn’t want to weigh personalities and compare voices. I didn’t want to play the game. I had met someone who made all that feel irrelevant.

But the world around me didn’t agree.

“You should explore,” they said. “You’re too young to settle.”

“Everyone’s doing it.”

“You can’t be sure with just one.”

Maybe they’re right by their standards. Maybe the world has changed. Maybe love now has rules, categories, stages. But I’ve always felt love isn’t something you practice. You either feel it, or you don’t. And when you do—it’s loud. Loud enough to drown out all the other advice.

What I hate the most these days is how interaction is rarely about connection. It’s about the next thing. Being physical before being emotional. Touch before trust. Lust before loyalty. And I’ve never fit into that version. I can’t.

I’m not here to try 20 people to find one I can “tolerate.” I’m here for that one person who feels like home even when they’re quiet. And if you ask me, that one person is enough. Always has been.

So no, I won’t talk to a dozen people just to be sure. I’ll wait for the one who makes me certain. Because in a world full of maybes, I still believe in the one.