Keratoconus x Dating: The Sequel

“The course of true love never did run smooth.”

There’s a little island called Bequia (“Beck-way”) just off the shores of St. Vincent, where I grew up, nestled within its beauty; one can find little hidden treasures throughout the island. There’s a spot in particular that I adore; where pieces of broken glass are embedded into the ground, in the shape of a heart. I often wonder, what inspired someone to do this. Perhaps, it was a reflection of their life - shattered but still holding shape. Or maybe just thought that it was a beautiful art piece?

That’s the thing about art: it is an expression of life; capturing emotions, experiences, and perspectives, reflecting the beauty, struggles, and complexities of human existence.

The first time I saw it, something in me shifted. I used to think that to be loved, you had to be perfect - whole… unbroken. But staring at that heart made from fragmented glass, I realized something: even broken things can be pieced back together. A heart, no matter how shattered, can still form something beautiful. And that restoration can happen alone or with the help of others.

This leads me to today’s topic.

When I wrote Dating with KC, I was in my twenties. At the time, I never thought there would be a need for a sequel because I thought I said everything I needed to say, and honestly dating in your twenties and dating in your thirties should be the same, right?

Wrong.

No one told me that being single in your twenties is just... being single. But when you're still unmarried in your thirties, suddenly, people act like you have a ticking expiration date.

The judgmental stares, the unsolicited comments - it's as if the world decided that by now, I should have checked off all the boxes: health, career, financial stability, marriage, kids.

And if I haven’t? Well, then clearly, something must be wrong with me.

The interrogation is relentless.

I have no idea who has selected these people to wait at that 30-year-old mark for you with these loaded guns of question, just ready for your big toe to step on the age line to just hit you with:

“You don’t have kids yet? But you’re in your thirties!”

“Why aren’t you married yet?”

“Oh, so you don’t want kids then?”

“Is there something wrong with your uterus?”

“You know the older you get, the harder it is to have kids, right?”

“Maybe that’s why you’re not married. Something must be wrong with you.”

“Are you even into men?”

“You shouldn’t drink that much coffee because when it’s time to have kids because you’re old you’re going to have problems”

“You should take what you get because you’re running out of time“

And if you somehow survive that gauntlet, you’ve still got your OBGYN ready to remind you about your fertility risks, your hormone levels, and the biological clock that’s supposedly *ticking* working against you.

At a point, I thought I actually heard my biological clock ticking, it was only a matter of time until my vagina was going to dry up and my eggs turn into dust *poof*

It’s exhausting.

I don’t know if men experience this same pressure, but as a woman, it hits you from every angle. Some women brush off the comments, unfazed like it’s a pesky little lint they find on their jacket. Others become desperate, turning dating into a frantic manhunt, a race to get that one eligible single guy with great qualities and God forbid you’re in that race with someone as fast as Julien Alfred and Shacarri Richardson or worse someone who is as competitive as Mike Tyson and will bite you ear off to get the guy  - yikes.

Then, there are women like me - stuck somewhere in between. Feeling the pressure, but fighting to stay grounded.

And then you find yourself standing in front of that mirror, staring at the wall of your thoughts, wondering if those judgmental voices were right. Was I foolish to focus on my career? Did my eyes take up tooo much of my time? Should I have gone out without my lenses? Should I have settled for that relationship I left behind? Did I wait too long?

The longer I stood in that space, the heavier it felt. The version of me in my twenties was so sure of herself - a driven woman, chasing her goals as best as she could with everything she had handed to her. But somewhere along the way, something changed. Marriage and motherhood started creeping into my thoughts. And suddenly, the things people said started to affect me.

Then, just as panic was about to take over, I took a deep breath.

And I realized something: I was psyching myself out over things beyond my control. I can't rewrite the past and I don’t regret it either because I was figuring out myself, and I sure as hell don’t know what the future holds. It’s not like I have a lineup of men waiting in my closet, just waiting to be picked and have my eggs fertilized.

Marriage isn’t a race, and love isn’t something you force. It happens when it happens. Whether it takes months, years, or a lifetime, I refuse to rush into something just because of external pressure. I refuse to settle for a relationship that lacks joy, laughter, and passion. I refuse to be with someone who doesn’t choose me wholeheartedly. I refuse to be in a relationship where we don’t communicate, where we don’t feel safe being our true selves. Because what’s the point of love if it’s not real?

I have been in love before—the kind of love that makes you believe in fairytales. And while it didn’t last, it taught me something valuable: love isn't about perfect timing or societal expectations. Love is about two people who are willing to fight for each other. Who communicate even when they’re angry. Who love each other as deeply as they are loved in return. Who never stop trying.

So if that love finds me, I’ll be ready, and if it doesn’t? I’ll still be whole.

It’s frightening not knowing what’s ahead but it’s scarier lying next to someone you have to question if they love you wholeheartedly. I want a fun marriage, yeah it’ll be tough but I want someone I could laugh and have fun with and someone who has no problem being my eyes when lenses give out. I want a timeless love.

P.S. To all the singles out there: You are not an expired carton of milk. You are a fine wine, aging into your best self. So keep living, keep loving, and keep laughing - your story is still being written, and trust me, it’s going to be a bestseller.

Until next time Luvs!

xoxo