Single On Purpose

Single On Purpose Plot Summary

Introduction

The phone buzzed again with another "How's it going?" text from a well-meaning friend. I stared at it, feeling that familiar pang—not quite loneliness, but something adjacent. It had been six months since my last relationship ended, and everyone seemed more concerned about my single status than I was. Or at least, that's what I told myself. The truth was, I didn't know how to be alone. I'd jumped from relationship to relationship since college, defining myself through the eyes of whoever loved me at the moment. Now, faced with only my reflection, I hardly recognized the person staring back. This journey of reconnecting with oneself is at the heart of what it means to be "single on purpose." It's not about swearing off relationships or adopting a defensive posture against love. Rather, it's about making the conscious choice to build a relationship with yourself first—to understand your needs, desires, and worth independent of anyone else's validation. Through stories of personal transformation and practical guidance, this exploration reveals how our greatest growth often happens in the spaces between relationships. By reconnecting with our bodies, minds, and souls, we can transform being alone from a state of lack into a powerful opportunity for self-discovery and growth. When we finally learn to be complete within ourselves, we bring that wholeness to every relationship we enter.

Chapter 1: The Journey Back to Self: Reconnecting Through Body and Soul

I remember the day vividly—sitting in that bathroom stall at the Russian "treatment center" where I worked, hiding from my responsibilities, tears streaming silently down my face as I stared blankly at the wall. My marriage was crumbling, my screenwriting dreams had faded, and I was stuck in a job that drained my soul. "John Kim, you are needed," came the voice over the PA system. In that moment, I whispered a desperate prayer: "If I get up, please help me." But God seemed silent, and I felt more alone than ever. The truth was, I had been drifting away from myself for years. As a child, I'd break-danced with abandon, spinning on my head after school, losing myself in the movement and flow. I'd ridden my little Honda Spree scooter up and down the block, feeling the closest thing to flying I'd ever experienced. But somewhere along the way to adulthood, I'd buried those joyful parts of myself. I spent my days hunched in coffee shops, typing screenplays I no longer felt passionate about, chasing success rather than fulfillment, completely disconnected from my body and spirit. My divorce became the first domino in my journey back to myself. Suddenly alone, I met Sam, another therapist going through a divorce. We moved into "Heartbreak Hotel," a run-down condo in Koreatown, and began rebuilding our lives. We discovered CrossFit together, and something unexpected happened—as I learned muscle-ups and handstand push-ups, I reconnected with that eleven-year-old break-dancer I'd locked away. The physical challenges brought back the joy of movement I'd forgotten. We rewarded ourselves with doughnuts after workouts, not from a place of emotional eating, but from a place of celebration and earned pleasure. Then came the motorcycle—a Ducati Monster 620 Dark. My ex-wife had always thought motorcycles were too dangerous, but now I was free to rediscover the feeling of my childhood scooter rides. Every time I straddled that bike, feeling the engine rumble beneath me and the wind in my face, I reconnected with my spirit—that adventurous, fearless part of myself I'd suppressed in the name of "growing up." I rode through Malibu canyons, to the beach, to coffee shops for client sessions. I felt like Batman, open to the world in a way I hadn't been for decades. Writing became my next avenue of reconnection. After "failing" as a screenwriter, I'd sworn off writing entirely. But in my darkness, I started a blog—The Angry Therapist—with no expectations, just as a way to express myself. Writing without the pressure to sell or succeed felt pure again. It became a conduit to my soul, a way to discover my voice and purpose. Through thousands of blog posts, I found meaning in vulnerability and authenticity rather than commercial success. The journey back to yourself doesn't necessarily require motorcycles or CrossFit—it's about reconnecting with whatever made you feel alive before life's pressures and expectations disconnected you. It's about asking when you felt most vital and identifying the activities that produced that feeling. Whether through movement, creative expression, or spiritual practice, the path back to yourself begins with remembering who you were before you learned to hide, and giving that authentic self permission to reemerge and thrive in your present life.

Chapter 2: Beyond Loneliness: Creating Space for Self-Discovery

Loneliness is real when you're single. That's why I'm starting there—because most of us experience it. I get it. I've been there. Many times. Forget the empowering anthem "I don't need anyone else but myself right now." Although that is true, it requires a journey to get there. Saying the words without taking that journey doesn't bring you automatic empowerment—just an empty pledge to a fake flag. What you get from an intimate partner is something you can't get from anyone else. Those conversations after work and those waffles on Saturday morning help the world make sense. Spooning puts you to sleep like a little baby. Looking into someone's eyes for longer than three seconds reminds you that we're not meant to do life alone. Being emotionally naked makes you feel alive. You feel lonely because you want these things and you haven't found someone to experience them with. And that's okay. But there's a difference between the feeling of loneliness and "I am lonely." One is an experience, a feeling that comes and goes. The other is an identity, tightly tied to your sense of worth. Instead of just being aware of the feeling, you have attached added meaning to it. You are lonely. Because you feel lonely, you believe there is something wrong with you. You're too old or too fat or whatever. But it's not your fault. That knot has been tied by society. Whether you know it or not, you have been programmed. Think about it: How many shows or movies have you seen where the protagonist doesn't find love and is still happy? To turn the lights on and get rid of this heavy shadow, you must face your beliefs head-on. How? Accept them. Fully. Radical acceptance is the practice of accepting life on life's terms and not resisting what you cannot change. In this case, singlehood. This doesn't mean giving up on love or denying your wants. It means saying yes to life, just as it is. Before you can do this, you must be okay with the possibility of never finding your one. Again, that doesn't mean you won't. Acceptance just means that, if you don't find the one, your world will not end. Look, no one wants to be alone. Not you. Not me. We all want to share our life with someone else. Ten years ago, the question "What if I never find a partner?" would have sunk my soul. But ten years ago, I didn't have much of a life. And that's the difference between me then and me now. I'm not any less of a hopeless romantic. I don't want love any less. I just have a richer and more complete life now. A life that doesn't hang on being with someone. This is what gave me my power back. Asking myself "Where am I going?" before asking myself "Who is going with me?" Love and relationships are only one part of your life, not your entire life. There are so many other aspects of your life that are meaningful and fulfilling. Your art. Your career. Your friendships. Your family. Your passions and hobbies. Your curiosity leading you to explore, learn, grow, and expand. When you actually build your own life, a life that is honest to you and stands on its own, the fear of being alone starts to fade.

Chapter 3: Breaking Toxic Patterns: Clearing Relationship Residue

Jessica had a large Instagram following. She lifted weights, rode motorcycles, and documented a lot of badassery. This meant "moving on" was only a few DMs away. She was going through her sixth expired relationship when she contacted me. Jessica usually got over someone in about three months. And then under someone else in about the same amount of time. But this time was different. It had been seven months, and she couldn't manage to "get over" her ex and had no desire to be with anyone else. "It's like my pussy died. Or it's trying to protect me or tell me something. Maybe it knows things," she joked. As we worked together, I learned that Jessica grew up with a single mom and a false belief that men always leave. Dad was in the picture for a split second before he split. She'd had no communication with him since. Her early imprints of love were boyfriends who either cheated or left. As she grew up, she started to lose herself in men. She would do anything to keep them from leaving. This meant repressing her feelings, ignoring red flags, and always putting their needs before her own. And of course, most of them did leave. This hardened her heart and cemented her false belief. By the time she was in her late twenties, her relationships were lasting only about six months and her partners weren't the ones leaving. She was. Like a stripper uses the stage to get her power back, Jessica used Instagram as a way to feel wanted and desired on her terms. The more she grew her following, the more suitors she had. She would date many of them, then leave them before they left her. I asked her if she had ever been in love, and she admitted that she had. Twice. Before she was "Instafamous." As we processed both relationships, I realized that this was the first time she had actually talked about them and acknowledged them as losses. She had never grieved those relationships. Instead, she flipped a switch and decided to "move on." When a relationship is over, there is loss. So many of us don't see that. Or we don't want to see that because of our pain, fear, and anger. We don't accept the good parts. We don't allow ourselves to miss them, afraid that will mean that the one we lost, or the relationship, still has power over us. But it's not about power. It's about two people who shared their hearts and did the best they could. And a relationship is no less real for being unhealthy. There are real memories there. No matter how bad something was, there were still moments of magic and connection and laughter, and now you've lost that. Jon was another client, sent to me by his wife who thought I could give him some "relationship tricks." One day, I discovered the real issue: Jon wasn't over his previous relationship with "Sally from the Valley." It was that sticky codependent young love that has you losing yourself in each other. But since Jon had never gone to therapy, he didn't know it wasn't healthy love. He just remembered how intense it was and how much Sally loved him. As we continued to process his relationship with Sally, Jon started to realize how much she had hurt him when she broke up with him. He realized he never really grieved that loss. He never accepted or moved through it. As we followed that string down, we discovered more old wounds from growing up with an alcoholic mother who changed men like socks, toxic men who bullied Jon and gave him a warped definition of a man. He realized how unhealthy his relationship with Sally actually was. This made him question if it had really been love. He finally watched the whole documentary instead of just playing the romance movie trailer over and over again. These realizations gave him fresh lenses and a newfound appreciation for his wife and what they were building. The residue from past relationships can cling to us long after the relationship has ended, coloring our present experiences and undermining new connections. By facing our losses honestly, grieving what we've lost, and examining the unhealthy patterns that have shaped our relationships, we create space for genuine growth and healing. Only when we've cleared away the residue of the past can we build something new and healthy, whether with ourselves or with someone new who truly deserves us.

Chapter 4: Self-Care as Foundation: Your First Date with Yourself

"Self-care" has become one of those generic words that we see everywhere. All over social media, in books, on blogs, and in memes. People are wearing the SELF-CARE T-shirt but not actually practicing it. It's rarely on the top of their to-do list. Especially for men. We don't need that shit. It's at the bottom of the list with pedicures and massages. Too many men believe self-care is an extra, that men don't need self-care, that any man who practices self-care is weak. That's a false belief. First, instead of theorizing about self-care, let's reexamine what it actually looks like in everyday life. Understand that self-care is different from self-love. If you're nowhere near a place of love for yourself, self-care can be a conduit to self-love. So stop telling yourself to love yourself. That's a loaded demand. There's pressure behind it. And it makes you feel defective if you struggle with it. The truth is, we all struggle with self-love because we don't know how to love ourselves. It's not something we practice. Yes, we're good at loving others. But rarely do we even prioritize loving ourselves, much less practice it. So start small. Plan the first date with yourself and see where it goes. Look, it doesn't have to be dinner and a movie. Or at the other extreme, a trip to Bali. That's self-help talk. A first date with yourself can be a walk. Or a workout. Or a cup of coffee sitting on a brick wall on a Saturday afternoon. It's not about the activity. It's about the connection. Are you connecting with yourself? Leaning into the discomfort of sitting with yourself? Or are you on your phone and in your head the entire time, running a to-do list or ruminating on why you haven't met someone? I was working in a nonprofit residential setting, counseling teenagers recovering from addiction. It was rewarding work but came with long hours and very little pay. One day after my shift I drove to the beach. Doing that was a bit left field for me. My life was about rebuilding now. It revolved around structure, daily routines, and getting shit done. But not that day. Something hijacked me. I sat there alone on the sand on a random Tuesday staring at the sinking sun. Then the voices came. "What the fuck are you doing, you idiot! You're such a half-ass. You never finish anything." Suddenly I got up, smashed my towel into my backpack, and started running. Running. I ran down the shore, clenching the straps of my backpack as "Semi-Charmed Life" played on my iPod. I kept running and running. I kept waiting to get tired. But I didn't. I passed a little girl chasing a seagull. We smiled when we made eye contact. When the waves washed up close to me, I didn't swerve around the water. Instead, I plowed through the waves like a soldier. People stared. I didn't give a fuck. I stayed at the beach all day. Then I bought myself an expensive meal on the pier. I thought about what I liked, what I didn't like, and all the different parts of myself I wanted to explore. I laughed at myself for running on the beach and patted myself on the back for leaving work. I guess you can say it was my first true date. With myself. Self-care doesn't mean bubble baths and fancy brunches. It really means taking care of yourself daily like you would for someone you love. It means breaking the pattern of putting yourself last. It means not taking on everything. Not overextending yourself. It means blowing out the candle when it's burning at both ends. It means saying no to things. It means considering your own needs, not over others' needs but with them, and meeting your needs. Self-care is where a better you is born. It's your own soil for growth. It's not just for people who have extra time. Because the word "self-care" has been dipped in sugar and slapped on memes, it can make us cringe a bit. So for now, forget about the words "self-care" and "loving yourself." Instead, think of it as connecting to yourself or disconnecting from yourself. If you start building a better relationship with yourself by giving yourself what you need and treating yourself better, in your actions, words, thoughts, and intentional practice of self-care, you are connecting to yourself. If you're not, you are disconnecting from yourself. When you connect, your potential grows. When you disconnect, your potential shrinks. It's that simple. Self-care is connecting to self. No self-care is disconnecting from self.

Chapter 5: Creating New Blueprints: Redefining Love and Worth

Barbara was a miserable fuck. Well, she didn't know it until she saw my book I Used to Be a Miserable F*ck at the airport. But she didn't buy it. The bold words on the cover caught her eye, and she saw that the book was written by a therapist. I think that's why she didn't buy it. She was also a therapist. Maybe she felt that if someone saw her picking it up, they would think her life wasn't perfect, that she was in no place to help others with theirs. Barbara had a full practice, a solid marriage, beautiful kids, and a gorgeous craftsman home straight out of the pages of Architectural Digest. Literally. Her house was featured in the magazine. It's one of her "greatest" accomplishments. During our session, Barbara admitted that she was not happy and hadn't been for a long time. But she didn't realize it until she read my book, which she eventually ordered on Amazon so it would arrive discreetly, like a sex toy. She kept saying, "I should be happy. I have everything! A gorgeous home, a loving, caring, and supportive husband, and a thriving practice that took me over a decade to build. I don't know why I'm not happy." Yes, she did have everything. Except for a life. Here's what she did every day. She got up at 7:00 a.m. Connected with her husband. Meditated. Had a quick breakfast. Then started taking sessions at 8:00 a.m. while her husband dropped the kids off at school. She worked from her home office until 8:00 p.m.! Then she would have dinner with her family, catch up with her kids, make love to her husband (three nights a week), do some reading, go to bed, and start the process all over again the next day. She had basically created her own prison. As a therapist who had a full practice at one time, I know it can get very lonely. You can go on autopilot pretty quickly. She didn't have joy, engagement, or meaning in her life. We talked about what it would look like to inject her life with some joy, engagement, and meaning—what my life had been missing when I didn't really have one. Barbara discovered joy in doing therapy videos for social media. She admired what I was doing and secretly wanted to do the same but was afraid to. Once I challenged her definition of what a therapist looks like, she started using social media to create a dialogue. And she was really good at it. She had so much wisdom from her practice. She also started seeing a few of her clients on walks. This took her out of her house and into the world. The final piece was the most difficult for her: engagement. Barbara had created a life that required little engagement with the outside world. Her home was her safe tree, and she rarely left it. After processing what engagement would look like for her, she started to step out. She made more of an effort to spend time with friends, which she'd stopped doing after having children. She started saying yes to social invites that she would have made an excuse to skip in the past. It wasn't just about activities. I reminded Barbara that engagement is a mindset. Instead of watching the world, it was time for her to really live in it. To feel it with every fiber of her being, being fully present, and showing up as authentically herself. Whether you are aware of it or not, the blueprints stamped in our heads are where we pull from. Our lives follow our tracings of these blueprints. The greater the contrast between your blueprint and your actual life, the more anxious and unhappy you are. Many of us live with definitions that were given to us by parents, friends, society, advertising, and old versions of ourselves that are not honest to us anymore. By following these definitions, we start to live dishonest lives. Or we live someone else's life. It's time to rip up our old blueprints and create new ones that align with who we truly are, what brings us genuine joy, and what gives our lives meaning beyond the picket fence and the image of perfection.

Chapter 6: Building Community: Making Friends as an Adult

The older we get, the harder it is to make friends. One major reason is the disappearance of plug-and-play social structures after we leave school. When we were younger, friends were delivered to us. They came in the form of field trips, sports teams, social clubs, detention, fraternities, sororities, school dances, and parties. We were one courageous extraverted decision away from entering any one of the micro communities available to us. Now, as adults, the automatic delivery has stopped. There are no more Postmates for friends. Our communities have shrunk. We have work, the biggest slice of our life pie, the place where we spend most of our time. But many of us don't want to shit where we eat, so we keep our work friends at a distance. Or we've tried to be friends with co-workers and it got weird. Then we have what I call our "residue" friends, the friends from our past. High school or college buddies, friends you've made through your exes, co-workers from previous jobs. But these friends are peripheral. Either you've outgrown them or they were only close friends during a previous period of your life. I had been disconnecting from myself for so long that I'd become a castaway. I was Tom Hanks talking to a volleyball. It's no wonder I was so unhappy. I didn't think friends were important. I wanted to put all my time and energy into my career because "success" would make me happy. It wasn't until after my divorce that I finally started to put effort into making my own friends. First Sam, then others. And for the first time in my life, the friendships I built were real. Because I was connecting to me while connecting to others. Allowing people to see the real John Kim. Not the approval-seeking, insecure John Kim who spun on his head for the wrong reasons. We need friends. They are not an extra, a luxury, a privilege. Or something we should invest in when we have more time. We are hardwired for human connection. It's ingrained in our biology. When you're hungry, your body is telling you that you need food. When you're crying, your body is telling you that you're hurting and grieving and need to release. When you're tired, your body is telling you that you need sleep. When you're feeling lonely or shitty about yourself, your body is telling you that you need human connection. We forget that human connection comes in many forms besides romance. With fewer spaces and opportunities to find friends as adults, we have to put more effort into finding and investing in friendships. As adults, we also have more responsibilities and less free time, so finding and investing in friendships usually takes a backseat to all the adulting we're trying to do. Suddenly we have no friends. Now all our happy chips are on our relationship, our children, our family. This of course puts more pressure on our relationship, our children, and our family to make us happy. And that's not fair to them. To build meaningful adult friendships, first set the intention to make new friends. Put the energy out there. Make the announcement to yourself. Then, participate in communities aligned with your passions or interests. Kill two birds with one stone by finding activities you enjoy and meeting people who share those interests. Finally, don't say no to anything social. Get out there and engage with the world. You're not going to make friends by ordering in and watching Netflix every weekend. Stop being so picky about what you like to do and don't like to do. Sometimes the best times happen when we least expect them. Sometimes we meet the coolest people doing the dumbest shit. When we connect with others who truly see and accept us, we discover new dimensions of ourselves. The friends who encourage our growth and champion our authentic selves help us connect more deeply with who we are. In this way, building community isn't just about avoiding loneliness—it's an essential part of building a relationship with yourself.

Chapter 7: Beyond Time Machines: Living in the Present Moment

One of the most common things my clients struggle with is constantly being in their head, either dwelling on the past or obsessing about the future. I call this living in a time machine. It's something I struggle with as well. Here's how it works. Let me know if you can relate. I have a thought about something that happened in the past. Maybe I play back a meaningful moment I had with an ex-girlfriend. That thought produces a feeling. That feeling makes me miss her. Now it's off to the races I go. Did I make a mistake by leaving? Should we be back together again? Should I call her? I wonder what she's doing. Am I with the wrong person now? At this point, I am officially spinning. I have left the here and now and I am living in the past. Also, none of this is based on truth. It's based on a thought that produced a feeling. Sound familiar? This is just one simple example. Imagine all the thoughts we have in a day and how many of them pull us out of the here and now and into a time machine. Thoughts not just about our past relationships but also about our work, friendships, drama in our family. Think about all the things you obsess about that haven't even happened yet. What if you don't make the sale? Get the raise? Pass the test? What if you never find "the one"? Thoughts like these produce feelings of anxiety. Suddenly, we are drowning in what-ifs instead of living in what is. We have left our lives because our heads have taken us hostage. We couldn't get into Joshua Tree. It was completely full. So we ended up setting up our two one-man tents, even though there were three of us, in a random desert junkyard on the outskirts. This was going to be my first time taking mushrooms, and it was already shady as fuck. I never did drugs growing up. I almost tried acid once, but the tab fell off my finger and I lost it in the grass. Anyway, when my friends found out I'd never done mushrooms, they convinced me to come with them to Joshua Tree to experience "real life magic." I was curious. So I went. And here we were, sitting in a strange junkyard on lawn chairs in the middle of the night, staring out at a sea of ripped tires and broken trees. We had taken the shrooms a while before, but nothing was happening. I was frustrated. I kept yelling, "Nothing's happening! Nothing's happening! This is stupid!" And they kept yelling, "Calm the fuck down. Relax! Relax!" I hate when people tell me to relax. I was a high-strung kid, and when I was growing up everyone always told me to relax. It's a trigger for me. But I decided to shut up, sit there, and just wait. Then I glanced over at Jeff. He was wearing a strange fishing hat. I said, "Why are you wearing a hat at night?" and just as I finished that sentence, I exploded in laughter. Which continued nonstop for the next two and a half hours. We all laughed uncontrollably. I laughed so hard my stomach started hurting. Eventually the laughter faded and we just sat there in the gutter of Joshua Tree, listening to music and watching the stars dance. It was probably the most present I've ever been in my life. Yes, it took drugs to get me out of my head, but I had a revelation that night: I realized the power of not living in time machines. To break free from time machines, first notice how often you play back the past or imagine the future. Be aware of how you feel in your body when you do. What are the feelings produced by playing this movie? And where do those feelings lead you? Then, break the pattern. Don't allow your thoughts to hook you. See them. Notice them. But even as you keep an eye on them, create distance so they cannot take you hostage. Your thoughts are not you. They are just thoughts, produced by judgment and distortion. Next, create new thoughts and feelings. Think about things that make you feel hopeful. Add new thoughts to your mental conveyer belt. Choose what you want to think about. Finally, repeat these steps. Forever. It's time to stop living in time machines and start living in the present moment. When we dwell on the past or obsess about the future, we miss the only moment we can actually live in—now. By practicing mindfulness and learning to observe our thoughts without being consumed by them, we create space for genuine joy, connection, and growth. The present moment is where life actually happens, and it's where our true relationship with ourselves can flourish.

Summary

The journey of being single on purpose isn't about avoiding relationships or embracing solitude as an end in itself. It's about making the conscious choice to build a meaningful relationship with yourself first—reconnecting with your body, mind, and soul in ways that make you feel whole and alive. Through stories of personal transformation, from riding motorcycles and finding joy in movement to making real friends and learning to live in the present moment, we've seen how disconnection from self lies at the root of so much unhappiness, while reconnection opens the door to authentic living. Perhaps the most powerful revelation is that your worth is not something you simply believe in—it's something you build through daily practice and new experiences. By giving yourself permission to explore what truly brings you joy, engagement, and meaning, you create a life that stands firmly on its own, whether or not you have a romantic partner. When you clear away the relationship residue of the past, rip up old blueprints that no longer serve you, and learn to live beyond time machines, you discover that being single isn't a waiting period or a consolation prize—it's a rich opportunity for growth and self-discovery. And ironically, it's in this space of wholeness and self-connection that you become most capable of building healthy, sustainable relationships with others. Not because you need someone to complete you, but because you're ready to share your complete self with someone equally whole.

About Author

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John Kim

John Kim LMFT (The Angry Therapist) pioneered the online life coaching movement seven years ago, after going through a divorce which led to his total re-birth. He quickly built a devoted following of fans who loved the frank and authentic insights that he freely shared on social media. He pulled the curtain back and showed himself by practicing transparency and sharing his story something therapists are taught not to do. Kim became known as an unconventional therapist who worked out of the box by seeing clients at coffee shops, on hikes, in a CrossFit box. He built a coaching team of his own and launched a sister company called JRNI, creating a new way to help people help people and change the way we change. He lives in Los Angeles.

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