Why I Think I’m Still Single
Perfection left me lonely.
I’ve built a life most people would call perfect.
A life of freedom, design, and control. I live in Lisbon, I run a successful company that empowers women to learn how to code, I’m fit, healthy, and constantly improving myself. I have a beautiful home, I travel often, and I’m surrounded by art, music, and creativity.
But I’m still single.
And recently, I decided to ask myself the question I’ve avoided for years: why?
The uncomfortable truth
The truth hit me harder than I expected – not because it was dramatic, but because it was simple.
I’ve built my world so perfectly that there’s no space left for someone else to enter it.
Everything in my life has been designed to work exactly the way I want it to. My home, my schedule, my goals, even my skincare routine – all optimized. That kind of control feels good. It creates peace. But love doesn’t grow in perfect order; it grows in chaos. It needs space, unpredictability, and surrender.
And that’s where I struggle.
The armor of excellence
For most of my life, I thought that being a better man – more disciplined, successful, confident – would make me more lovable. But excellence can become a kind of armor.
When you’re used to achieving everything through control, you start believing love works the same way – that if you “get it right,” the right person will appear. But love isn’t earned through mastery; it’s received through openness.
That’s the part I’ve resisted. Vulnerability. Letting someone see me – not just the version I’ve built, but the man underneath: the one who doubts, who misses connection, who gets lonely sometimes.
What I’ve learned
The more I reflect, the more I realize that staying single hasn’t been an accident. It’s been a form of self-protection.
I’ve created a life that’s so self-sufficient that I never have to depend on anyone. That’s safe – but it’s also isolating. Because deep down, I don’t just want someone to admire my life. I want someone to share it. To build something together that’s messy, unpredictable, and human.
And that means doing something uncomfortable: letting go of control.
The shift
Here’s what I’m learning now:
Leave room for surprise. Not everything needs to be scheduled or optimized. Spontaneity is the oxygen of love.
Lead with feeling, not perfection. Vulnerability isn’t weakness; it’s truth without armor.
Be present, not impressive. Women don’t fall in love with your résumé – they fall in love with how they feel around you.
Create emotional space. Not just physical room in your life, but mental and emotional openness.
What I want next
I’m not chasing “the one.” I’m learning to recognize her when she appears – the woman with whom I can feel peace in the silence, laughter in the chaos, and warmth without effort.
I don’t want someone to complete me. I want someone to co-create with me – a partner, not a guest.
And maybe the reason it took me so many years to learn this is because I needed to build everything else first. So that when I finally meet her, I’ll know what truly matters isn’t perfection – it’s presence.
– Matt Delac