It was a scorcher on Ecuador’s coast. Iguanas were sunbathing in the dusty, bougainvillea-lined road, and a street vendor selling produce pedaled past. My plan was to hit the beach, but first, I popped into the shop for a bottle of water and an ice-cold beer.
“Enjoy your beer and the sunshine,” the shopkeeper said in Spanish. “And your health, your life, and your time. We only have today. Life goes fast.”
I thanked her and headed toward the ocean. Without realizing it, she’d captured the reason I had decided to spend five weeks on the coast — and why I had decided to move to South America on my own.
At 33, I’ve been living in Ecuador for six and a half years after spending six months in Colombia. My curiosity about South America drove me here, and I stayed for the warm weather, culture, and ever-changing landscapes.
Earlier this year, I asked myself: What’s the best thing about being in my mid-30s, single, and child-free? The answer was clear: the freedom to explore, enjoy my time, and be creative. So, I rented a cabaña on Ecuador’s coast to write, read, and soak up the sun. If life changes, I’d regret not embracing this freedom.
I’ll admit that being single wasn’t the plan. In fact, for years, I saw my relationship status as a failure. A millennial, I grew up with princess-meets-prince fairy tales, which transitioned to Blockbuster rom-coms in my teens.
At first, serious relationships made sense
When I moved to Ecuador in 2018, I was transfixed. Not only did the country have endless verdant valleys and volcanoes that seemed to graze the sun, but it also had small things like avocado trees and tiny green hummingbirds.
So, I stayed and gladly embraced unpredictability. That has included navigating modern dating abroad and in my 30s — an experience which is equal parts wildly fun and frustratingly chaotic.
An outgoing and social person, I’ve been on a lot of dates. Many have been really cool guys. There was the soccer player who could cook and showed me how to make shredded chicken tacos as he told me about his time abroad. There was the guy who took me to swanky Quito bars. Then there was the one who always brought no less than three desserts.
I’ve been on motorcycle rides — something less common back home in Canada — gone dancing, and dined at underrated local restaurants.
Still, when an initial spark never fully ignited or a monthslong relationship ended, I felt disappointed.
My friends back home are married or in long-term relationships. I assumed I would be too. Yet here I was swiping, navigating cultural differences, and dodging red flags while trying to keep an open mind. Some experiences were fantastic; others had me rolling my eyes until they almost fell out of my head.
Mainstream messaging isn’t always kind to single women. Oftentimes, my internal dialogue wasn’t either. Unknowingly and unintentionally, I subscribed to societal pressures that don’t actually align with me.
Sinead Mulhern
Benefits of being single
But I see it differently now. There are perks to not being in a relationship that I hadn’t given enough credit to. Much of my life revolves around travel. From an overnight escape to Panama’s pearly-white San Blas islands, to a pre-Christmas getaway at a mountain lodge alone, to the more recent coastal stay, I’ve had great adventures.
If I have the funds and time, I go. I have no one else’s preferences or schedule to consider; I only have my own.
On the coast, I read in a hammock for hours, and thought, “Hey, this trip wasn’t a bad idea.” The surface-level perks were mornings with coffee in far-flung places, afternoons plunging under salty waves, and a choose-your-own-adventure life in Ecuador.
But underneath it all, there’s a growing sense of self-sufficiency — not just in handling the challenges of living abroad, but in the day-to-day realities of doing many things on my own.
Being single has made me more capable. I handle conversations on my own, whether for logistics or social situations, and because of that, my Spanish has improved in ways it probably wouldn’t have otherwise.
On adventures — like my sun-drenched one along the coast— I find myself in conversations with locals that likely wouldn’t happen if I were part of a couple. In this sense, being single is an opportunity, not a loss.”
Sinead Mulhern
I call the shots
Then there’s something deeper: I’m single at 33 because I can be. With advantages like a university education — my generation of women is the first in my family to have that on both sides — I’m able to support myself.
I have no desire to have kids, and I’m living life on my own terms. A relationship, under these circumstances, would be entirely elective. That’s not a failure — it’s a privilege many women still don’t have.
The rest of my time at the beach unfolded easily. I was invited to a birthday party and danced until the early hours. I walked along the shore, stopped to swim beneath the sun. On a balmy night, I learned about Argentine food from some guys from Buenos Aires who made the most delicious pizzas and empanadas.
I’m inclined to believe the shopkeeper on that arid street by the ocean was right. If time really is limited, as she said, then it’s best not to spend it dwelling on hypotheticals.
I’m looking forward to future adventures. If someone’s there to share them, awesome — if not, I’m totally good on my own.
