A reflection on becoming whole before becoming one…
I’m 26.
And if you grew up hearing what I did, and that you are in Asia, you know what that means:
Married by 27.
Kids by 30.
Happily ever after by… right about now.
The clock, it seems, has already started ticking. Louder with every family gathering, louder every time a friend sends a wedding invite, louder every time someone casually asks, “Are you seeing someone” and “So when it’s your turn?”
And if I’m honest, some days it gets to me. It feels like there’s a train pulling out of the station, and I’m standing on the platform, wondering if I’ve somehow missed it. Wondering if waiting is wise – or just foolish.
But then, in the quieter moments, I realize something:
Love isn’t a train you catch. It’s a place you arrive – after you’ve spent the time becoming the person you’re meant to be.
The truth is, I don’t want to marry just anyone.
I don’t want to choose out of fear, or loneliness, or the pressure of someone else’s timeline.
I want to build a life with someone who isn’t just looking for a wife – but someone who’s ready to be a husband, a partner, a co-pilot in all the beautiful, messy, adventurous, ordinary days ahead.
There’s a difference.
A man who wants a wedding looks for a date.
A man who wants a marriage builds a life.
And maybe…just maybe…that kind of love doesn’t happen when you’re racing the clock.
Maybe it happens when you finally slow down enough to listen to yourself. To understand who you are and what you need.
To build your dreams.
To heal the parts no one sees.
To create a life so full and vibrant that love doesn’t complete you – it joins you.
I used to think not looking for a husband at this age meant I was behind.
Now I’m starting to believe it just means I’m preparing.
Growing.
Becoming someone who won’t settle for being chosen out of convenience – but who will be met, soul to soul, when the time is right.
Looking back, I’m grateful for the almost-loves that didn’t last.
For the nights I went home alone and learned how to comfort myself.
For the seasons when the only hand I could hold was my own.
Because every quiet moment was shaping me into someone stronger, kinder, deeper.
Someone who doesn’t need love to be whole – but will welcome it with open arms when it’s true.
“You can’t love someone until you love yourself.”
“How can anyone love you if you don’t love yourself first?”
Maybe you’ve heard them too.
And maybe, like me, you paused and thought: That’s not quite fair.
Because self-love isn’t a switch you flip.
It’s not a checklist you complete before you’re allowed to be loved, or to love others.
It’s a journey. A slow, patient, sometimes silent one.
I didn’t grow up in a broken home – but like every family, ours had its own cracks and lessons.
And even though my childhood wasn’t wrapped in drama, there were still days I wondered if I was “too much” or “not enough” all at once.
But that doesn’t mean I’m broken.
It doesn’t mean I stopped believing in love.
If anything, it taught me that love is something you nurture quietly, day after day, with kindness, patience, and small, beautiful things.
I don’t believe you have to love every part of yourself before you are worthy of being loved.
I think the people who love you – your family, your friends, the ones who truly see you – they teach you how to be gentler with yourself, simply by staying.
By reminding you, without big speeches, that even in the moments you doubt your own worth, it doesn’t disappear.
It’s still there.
You are still there.
Self-love, I’m learning, is not about being perfect.
It’s about being kind.
To yourself.
Especially on the days when kindness feels like the hardest thing to offer.
Some days, you’ll believe in yourself fiercely.
Some days, you’ll need someone to remind you of the light you carry.
And both are okay.
Both are part of the quiet, unfolding story of learning to love who you are.
So if you’re standing at the edge of 25, or 28, or 31, wondering if you’re late – Please know: you’re not.
You are not late. You are right on time.
And the love that’s meant for you – both the love you give yourself and the love you find in someone else.
It’s not in a hurry.
It’s patient.
It’s steady.
It’s waiting for the person you are becoming.
Because when love finally knocks,
it won’t be to rescue you,
it’ll be to walk beside you,
right where you’re meant to be.
🌷 And may we all find the love that makes us believe in love.
