There comes a time in a person's life - usually somewhere between discovering they prefer Egyptian cotton sheets to a partner and finally understanding the appeal of early bedtime - when they realise something curious:
Social invitations have started… evaporating.
Not gradually. Not politely.
But in the same dramatic fashion socks disappear in the dryer: suddenly, inexplicably, and with absolutely no sign of return.
Recently, the mystery deepened when a group of lovely friends, couples, the sort who colour‑coordinate their luggage and own matching rash shirts, announced they were heading off to Bali for a long weekend.
Sunshine, mocktails, resorts, foot massages, and leisurely breakfasts. The whole “live, laugh, love” package.
And you know who wasn’t invited?
Me. The Single Woman.
Population: one.
Flight booking: zero.
Now, I’d like to believe it was an honest oversight. I’d like to believe they imagined my weekend was already filled with glamorous solo activities like alphabetising my spice rack or talking sternly to my pot plants.
But there’s a tiny part of me (just a smidge) wondering:
Do couples think single people come with some kind of… warning label?
Like I’m going to rock up to the resort, hair blowing in the tropical breeze, accidentally causing their partners to swoon mid‑Bintang?
Please.
At this stage in life, the only thing I’m seducing is a very comfortable hotel pillow and maybe a well‑priced buffet.
And yet, the pattern is there.
Dinner invitations?
Reduced.
Group getaways?
Removed.
Game nights?
But who will be the 7th player? Sorry!
It’s as though the moment you don’t come with a plus‑one, people assume you need to be quietly packaged away like the good silverware.
Meanwhile, being single on a trip is a superpower. I am the dream travel companion! I don’t snore, I won’t argue about where to eat, and I absolutely will not drag anyone to a shop to look at garden pots “just quickly” for 40 minutes.
But somehow, somewhere, society decided to give single people the same energy as forgotten side dishes: nice, but… optional.
Let it be known:
I am not a threat.
I am not a disruption.
I am not going to Bali with anyone’s partner.
Unless they're offering the upgrade to business class.
(Just kidding. Mostly.)
So, here’s my new philosophy:
If the invitations disappear, make your own.
Book the trip.
Take the weekend.
Order the cocktail with the extra pineapple slice - because you’re not sharing it with anyone, and that is the true luxury.
And when your coupled friends return, clutching their duty‑free moisturiser and stories of “how relaxing it was”, you can smile serenely… because you’ve already booked your next adventure.
Solo.
Glorious.
And absolutely included.
Kia ora, I’m Sandra. For the past four years, I’ve proudly been part of Inclusee, where I help make connection cool and diversity and inclusion a genuine way of life. I’m passionate about creating spaces where everyone feels seen, valued, and supported.
Family is everything to me, and I’m also mum to Dolly Parton, my 13-year-old Persian cat, who lives life as the Deputy CEO (Cat Executive Officer) of Inclusee — and of my world.
When I’m not championing connection and inclusion, you’ll find me embracing my love of home styling and creating warm, welcoming spaces. Acts of service are at the heart of who I am, which is why Inclusee isn’t just my work — it’s truly a passion.
