When people learn I was an only child, they typically ask: “Weren’t you lonely?” It’s a rather complex question for casual conversation. However, over time, I’ve learned to respond as they seem to expect: “No, I loved it!” The truth was more nuanced. I truly enjoyed having my parents’ undivided attention and not having to fight with a sibling over the TV remote. Still, I was a bookish child who always hovered on the fringes of school cliques. So, at times, I did wish I had someone around. Not because I couldn’t entertain myself. I had Lemony Snicket books and “Lizzie McGuire” for that. It was just that, deep down, I felt it wasn’t entirely normal to spend as much time alone as I did.
Scarlett Johansson in the movie “Lost in Translation”, 2003
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Now, I often ponder the distinction between loneliness and living alone. Nearly a year ago, I went through a difficult breakup with a partner I lived with. Since then, I’ve been living by myself. For about half the time, a small, grumpy maltipoo named Frank shares my studio apartment. But when he’s with his dad, it’s just me, my books, a collection of vintage martini glasses, and slowly burning incense sticks in the apartment.
I enjoy this life. When I’m lying in a bubble bath sipping orange wine, I can even say I love it. But there are moments when I’m not so sure. That’s when I question if I’m doing something wrong. Or if the common perception of an only child is coming true in my life, as I no longer share my home with a partner or roommates.
It’s during these times that I usually open TikTok and watch new videos from a small group of “loneliness influencers” I follow. Though I prefer to call them my LonelyGirls. The first creator I discovered was Lana Isa, known on TikTok and Instagram as @lanasololife. My friend Sarah, who also doesn’t have a partner, lives alone, and has a small white dog, showed me her page.
Lana calls herself a “friendless girl” and often films videos about ordinary daily activities. She makes waffle fries for dinner, drops off packages at the post office, or writes in her journal. All of it feels slightly less mundane due to the pride she takes in her complete independence. She is clearly comfortable in the quiet of her apartment where she lives alone. This quiet is already all too familiar to me.
What draws me in is the lack of pretense in Lana’s daily life. I’ve always tried to emulate Nora Ephron’s approach, which she wrote about in an essay from her collection “I Feel Bad About My Neck.” Even when dining alone, Ephron would prepare a full meal: chop ingredients, sauté them, and treat herself as if she were expecting company. I try to do the same, especially when I eat by myself.
However, I’ve started to wonder: perhaps Lana’s pre-made waffle fries, which only need to be put in the oven, are an even bolder way of living alone? Perhaps such a dinner more resolutely dismisses the notion that happiness in one’s own company necessitates elaborate cooking, table setting, and a special evening.
I’ve also begun to think there’s something subtly radical about women like Lana Isa, Devon, and Pauline Si. They cultivate a public persona by sharing details of their solitary, private lives. When I start to feel down about not having a partner and living alone, I recall how few women in my family ever had the opportunity to live without a man by their side. Sometimes I ask myself if I will ever meet someone I truly want to live under the same roof with again. But just as often, I feel a genuine joy in deciding for myself what my life will be. Yet, when you live alone or simply spend a lot of time by yourself, it’s hard to shake the feeling that you constantly need to justify your choices to others. Especially when friends and family are getting married, starting families, and building shared lives, while you’re busy Googling: “how to assemble IKEA shelf by yourself.”
What I love most about my LonelyGirls is that they don’t constantly try to smile or convince everyone around them that their lifestyle always brings them nothing but joy. The absence of friends doesn’t always suit them. Friday nights with no plans sometimes make them unhappy. And they are open about it. Because of them, I understand that I don’t have to be completely content with my life to value it and find pleasant moments within it.
Now, I have the kind of social circle I dreamed of in my unhappy mid-twenties. I am surrounded by friends here in Los Angeles and across the country. If I have no plans on a Friday night, it’s usually because I’ve decided that way. But that doesn’t make me any better than my LonelyGirls. Ultimately, we are all just women living alone, making ourselves dinner, returning packages, and trying either to fill the silence or learn to exist peacefully within it.
Based on an article from vogue.com