How Did I Get Here? On Dating Myself (and Writing it all Down)

By Abby Rosmarin

I didn’t know it at the time, but the initial groundwork for the year of dating myself began with me in my bathtub, choking back tears, and asking myself, “How did I get here?”

I was attempting some form of self-care via a bubble bath after seeing my now-ex for the first time since breaking up with him—and failing miserably at it. That night was the first time that I’d really taken a look at myself in the aftermath of yet another bad relationship ending. If once is an event, twice is a coincidence, and three times is a pattern, then what was it saying that my most recent breakup was my fifth time repeating this pattern?

I had no choice but to come face-to-face with an ugly truth: while no one ever deserves to be mistreated, I’d been consistently engaging in behaviors that would inevitably set me up for pain and suffering. I would attach myself to the first guy to even vaguely resemble my Prince Charming, ignore red flags, ignore my boundaries, and cling to potential over reality. I would then mold myself to whatever the guy wanted, never communicate my own needs, and eventually wear myself down until I’d hit a dead end. And, once I’d hit that dead end, I would swear off dating in superbly dramatic fashion… only to start the cycle back up again before the month was out.

I didn’t know what to do with this revelation at first. Was I supposed to swear off dating again, only this time for real? What would that even look like? What would prevent me from repeating that pattern, yet again?

The answer came a few months later, in the form of a promotional email from my favorite band on New Year’s Eve. My favorite band was set to play in my area in the coming new year. I went to buy tickets, only to learn that the concert was nearly sold out. There was a solo seat here and there, but everything else was unavailable. I almost exited out of the ticket purchase page when I thought to myself, “When was the last time I went to a concert by myself?”

The answer was never. I’d never been to a concert by myself. I’d never been to anything by myself. With that bit of knowledge in the back of my mind, I went ahead and bought a solo seat. I could feel a surge of empowerment, just from buying the ticket.

I had a lightbulb moment with that surge, and I started listing out everything that I wanted to try doing on my own. I realized that what I needed to do next was not dramatically swear off dating, but to refocus those dating efforts to a person I’d been chronically neglecting: myself. I decided that the coming new year was going to be the year I dated myself.

I wrote the first draft of The Year of Dating Myself as the year was happening. It served as both a way to stay motivated to finish out the year and an avenue to journal my feelings—and I’d learn during that year that both were needed.

After the first several months, the novelty of dating myself had worn off. The honeymoon phase was over and now the real work was going to begin. It would’ve been easy to shrug my shoulders, say, “well, good enough,” and call it after three or four months. It took the knowledge that I was writing about the year of dating myself, not the several months of dating myself, to keep pushing forward.

I needed that entire year. Some of my most valuable lessons and experiences happened in the last half of the year. It was vital that I demonstrated to myself that I was worth investing in, even when the initial shine has worn off.

I also needed to write out each experience as a way to process my feelings. I remember how, in the fall, I was trying to make sense of multiple complicated and contradicting emotions. It was through that writing that I was able to not only navigate through these feelings, but start connecting dots where, previously, I hadn’t seen any real connection.

In terms of writing the book, the real challenge came when I had finished the year (as well as the initial writing) and it was time to edit down an absolutely clunky behemoth of a first draft. It was daunting enough, turning what had effectively been a journal into a cohesive story. I also quickly learned that editing the book meant reliving the year—and that meant reliving every difficult experience.

I soon found that reliving the year through editing the book became like therapy for me. There was an element of exposure therapy, where, with each read-through, I felt less activated by the events. But it was more than that: each time I completed a read-through, I was reminded about what I had overcome. Editing the book might’ve felt like reliving the year, but finishing each round of edits felt like validating that I had, in fact, finished that year. There were a lot of difficult elements that I never could’ve predicted nor have prepared for, but I still made it to the other side.

Devoting a year to dating myself was one of the most difficult—but also one of the most rewarding—things I’ve ever done. I still have plenty of things to learn and plenty of ways to grow, but the year helped me build a solid foundation for those future lessons and moments of growth.

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Abby Rosmarin has spent the last nine years as a professional writer. Her work has been featured on HuffPost, Bustle, Thought Catalog, Elite Daily, The Bangalore Review, Chaleur Magazine, Hello Giggles, Elephant Journal, Literally Darling, and more. A former model and current grad student, Abby has navigated through the highs and lows of trauma recovery, self-discovery, and becoming comfortable with one’s own company. She is the author of The Ballerina’s Guide to Boxing, Venom, and other independently-published works. Her new book is The Year of Dating Myself: How My Solo Tour Healed More Than Just My Heartbreak (July 8, 2025). Learn more at abbyrosmarin-author.com.

The Year of Dating Myself: How My Solo Tour Healed More Than Just My Heartbreak

Fans of Eat, Pray, Love and Wild will love this heartwarming memoir in which the main character is her own hero.

Abby knew her pattern all too well: get her heart broken, swear off dating, find a man “worth” breaking that vow for . . . Rinse. Repeat. However, after leaving a particularly traumatic relationship, Abby realized that something had to change if she wanted to kick the pattern. One night while purchasing a solo concert ticket, an epiphany was born: she needed a year in which she was her own dating interest. One full year to give herself the care and consideration that she once gave to romantic partners. A year to treat herself the way she wished a partner would. A year where she stepped outside of her comfort zone and broke free from codependency.

The Year of Dating Myself: How My Solo Tour Healed More Than Just My Heartbreak is a testament to the resiliency of the human spirit and the capacity to heal after heartbreak. What started out as a way to refocus her priorities quickly developed into something far bigger than she could’ve ever predicted. The year became a chance to reconnect with her ailing mother, get answers to her biggest genetic fear, remember the power of friendship, and realize all the inner strength that she had all along.

She once spent years waiting for her fairytale prince to come and save her. In this story, the princess saves herself.

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