Let's talk about the hardest person to break up with: the version of you that needs a man to feel complete.

We’ve been talking about boundaries, grief, and financial honesty. Now, we’re pivoting to the most important relationship of all: the one you have with yourself.

This month, we’re diving into The Ghost of Boyfriends Past: Learning to Date Your Own Damn Self.

Let’s be real about the subtle, insidious messaging we receive. Society, movies, and even well-meaning family members subtly tell us that our life doesn't truly start until we find "The One." We are taught to wait for a partner to buy the house, plan the trip, or go to the fancy restaurant.

This creates a dangerous habit: we outsource our happiness and our life's adventures to a partner. We define ourselves by our relationship status, and when we're single, we feel incomplete, like we're in a holding pattern. We become addicted to being a "we."

The problem with this is that you end up living a half-life, constantly waiting for someone else to give you permission to be happy. You put your dreams on hold, you stop cultivating your own interests, and you forget how to enjoy your own company.

The truth is, you are the main character in your story, not the supporting cast in someone else's. The best preparation for a healthy relationship is a healthy relationship with yourself.

Bestie, I’ve always been the side dish, the sister, the thing to play with, the heart to toss back and forth. Now, don’t get me wrong, I have felt love and felt loved. I always wondered what created this problem for me. Then it hit me, I am the problem.

No. I mean, I am the dopest fucking woman any friend, family, or partner could ask for. But that’s the problem. I am dope or amazing, as they like to say, for them. I need to be this dope, beautiful, amazing, caring, kind, and trustworthy Meaghan, for me.

After my last serious relationship ended, I went through the motions of "moving on." I was busy, I was working, I was seeing friends. But every time a Friday night rolled around, a cold dread would settle in. I felt alone, even with all kinds of people surrounding me. I’d get invitations to happy hours, Sunday night football, movies, etc., but I’d always decline. I just didn’t feel like putting in the effort to be amazing for people. I was sad. I had been dumped. I was extremely heartbroken.

I realized I had outsourced all my fun, all my adventure, and even my self-worth to the idea of being in a couple. I didn't know how to go to a movie alone. I didn't know how to try a new restaurant without a plus-one. I was waiting for the next man to come along and fill the void, to give me permission to live the life I wanted.

But you know what, give me a damn break. Most of my life was me me me me me. I had never been a WE. So, when someone FINALLY dared to show some sense of exclusivity towards me, which now I realize may not even been true, I was thrilled. I was so happy to feel inclusive in love. It wasn’t a one-sided effort anymore.

The moment of clarity hit me hard. I had spent three hours scrolling through Instagram, watching couples or my married friends do cute things. I was filled with a toxic mix of envy and self-pity. I looked at my own calendar, and it was blank. It was taking forever for me to see any type of marriage beginnings, for me. Actually, not even marriage, but just dating. I decided I was going to start supporting the main character in my own life and not wait for the male lead to show up.

I decided right then that I was done waiting. I was going to “take myself on a date.” Not a casual, "I'm just running errands" kind of thing, but a full-on, intentional date. I decided that I was going to do the work to get the job I want. I decided I was going to get the best friend for me, even if it was a four-legged animal. I decided I was going to make the change, even if I later regretted it. I put on my best dress, did my hair and makeup, and showed up for myself.

Walking into this journey alone was terrifying. I felt every eye on me, convinced they were all thinking, "Poor thing, she got dumped." But I forced myself to sit down, open up my Bible, and put my phone away. I focused on the goals, the environment, and the quiet conversation in my own head (which actually can get very scary). I focused on the bigger picture and the goals needed.

I realize now I was great company. I didn't have to compromise on the side dish treatment. I didn't have to pretend to be interested in things that made someone else smile. I was fully present for myself. That night, I didn't just eat a great meal; I reclaimed my time, my taste, and my independence.

That first “self-date” was the moment I started falling in love with the main character of my life. It taught me that I don't need a man to validate my existence or to make an experience worthy of my best dress. The best relationship I'll ever have is the one I have with myself, and I am worth the effort. That's the kind of love that lasts forever.

I’m not perfect, but I can strive to be better than I was yesterday.

So, what’s the moral of the story, sis? You are the love of your own life.

The ultimate commitment you can make is to yourself. Here are the unwritten rules for cultivating a deep, intentional relationship with the most important person in your life:

The best relationship you'll ever have is the one you have with yourself. Make it a good one.

Now that we’ve had this heart-to-heart, I have a little piece of homework for you.

Plan a dedicated, intentional "date" with yourself this week. Make it special. Dress up. Go to a place you've always wanted to try. Leave your phone in your bag. Treat yourself like the incredible person you are.

Go be brave, bestie. Fall in love with the main character.