When a piece about me being a happily single, child-free woman was published online in The Telegraph last June, I wasn't prepared for the sheer volume of hate that followed. Within hours the comment section had exploded, and while not every response was negative, the vast majority were - not to put too fine a point on it - seething. Most of the vitriol came from men: angry, defensive and, in some cases, downright cruel.
I've since joked that the piece accidentally broke the internet - with almost 1,300 comments under the article and more than 6,000 on the accompanying Facebook post. But what it really broke was a long-held social script; one I had dared to challenge by simply saying, I'm single, I don't have children, and I'm happy.
I didn't read all the comments - as Andrew Lincoln's character says in Love Actually, 'It's a self-preservation thing' - but I read enough. Enough to know that the very idea of a woman living joyfully without a man or children was not only unfathomable for many but also infuriating. Several accused me of kidding myself or being deluded. Others talked about my 'pointless existence'. There were plenty of cat references - 'mad cat woman', 'I see a household of cats in her future', and one who imagined the 'strong odour of cat' in my later life. (Thanks, but I already have one.) A few predicted I'd die 'unmissed' in a care home with no visitors.
What struck me wasn't just the personal nature of the attacks but the sheer volume, all because I'd dared to describe a life that didn't revolve around romantic love or motherhood; a life that, by traditional standards, isn't supposed to feel full. The 'problem' therefore, is that mine does.
That fullness didn't arrive overnight. Like most people, I grew up assuming I'd meet someone, settle down, have kids and build a life around family. I never questioned it. It was just the default - what everyone did.
I'm 49, and my last significant relationship was almost eight years ago. There were moments in my 20s and 30s when that life could have materialised. Relationships that looked right on paper, boyfriends who were lovely. But intuitively I knew: this isn't it. And I could never stay just to tick the box marked 'married with kids.'
Swimming against the tide isn't easy, and there were times when I felt I was failing - especially when friends started walking down aisles and having babies. On more than one occasion that whispering societal voice crept in: 'You're doing life wrong. You're a loser.' But somehow I didn't cave, knowing - even if only vaguely - that a more expansive life was calling.
I remember dinner parties where I was the only single person at the table, listening to conversations about school applications and catchment areas, wondering when - or if - I'd ever 'catch up'. I also remember the quiet realisation, as I approached 40, that having children was becoming increasingly unlikely. For a while I silently grieved the baby I'd probably never have, and the life I thought I was supposed to want.
But something stronger began to grow: freedom. Possibility. Peace. I started to ask myself a new question. Not 'what's wrong with me?' but: 'Is it just me, or is being single and childfree actually... kind of awesome?'
That question led me to start my podcast, Thrive Solo, then a membership community, and eventually, my book Shiny Happy Singles, a celebration of solo life and the many underrated benefits of being single and child-free. I wanted to challenge the assumption that women like me are secretly miserable or desperate; that our lives are somehow incomplete. I wanted to say no, actually. I haven't missed out. I'm just living a different version of happy - one that is entirely, gloriously on my own terms.
I believe that the most important relationship we'll ever have is the one with ourselves. Being alone is not the same as being lonely, and I've been lonely both in and out of relationships. Apparently, this was a controversial opinion.
What fascinates me is how threatening that idea seems to be - particularly to men. Not all - I've had thoughtful messages from individuals who appreciated what I wrote. But the overwhelming pattern I saw was this: female happiness without male involvement = male discomfort. Or worse, male rage.
So what's going on? According to relationship psychotherapist Lisa Bruton, part of the issue is, 'Men tend to get most of their relational needs met through one person - their partner - which can result in them being vulnerable.' She adds, 'They assume it's an attack or rejection of them and/or coupledom rather than a positive life choice.'
I've experienced this kind of hostility in real life too - subtle but sharp. The raised eyebrows when I say I'm single. The patronising 'Oh, you'll meet someone eventually'. The not-so-subtle male neighbour who told me after one too many drinks why I started my podcast: 'You've got a chip on your shoulder about being single.' The assumption being that I must want a relationship and children - and if I say otherwise I'm, well, lying.
Bruton explains that some men may feel 'wrong-footed' when women don't play expected roles. 'Some of the typical ways that men relate to women include the plea to flirt or to be mothered,' she says. 'And if you're closing down both of those avenues, some men can feel destabilised.'
Let's not forget the history either. For centuries single women have been viewed with suspicion, pity or outright hostility. In medieval times we were burnt as witches. In Victorian England we were labelled 'spinsters' and treated as burdens. The idea of a woman choosing autonomy has always been quietly subversive. In some ways we've evolved. In other ways not so much.
'Some of these men are equating singledom with loneliness,' Bruton points out,'and interestingly,I see a lot of low-level loneliness in the married men that I work with.'That struck me.Because it raises the question:what if the real unhappiness isn't where society assumes it is?
I don't need to compromise my peace for anyone else's idea of success because I've created a life that truly fits me,and I feel freer than ever before.I get to work for myself and plan my days exactly as I wish.I'm constantly inspired by the incredible conversations I have on my podcast with amazing single women from all over the world.
Last month I went to Greece with two of my best girlfriends,and in January I will host a trip to Iceland with Explore Worldwide,where we'll be hoping to catch a glimpse of the Northern Lights.Walks in nature—in the woods or by the sea—bring me deep joy.This sense of expansion is one that I've intentionally created for myself.And it feels amazing.
What would I do if I met someone?
That's the other question people ask.My answer is simple:never say never.But I'm not looking.I've already built a joyful,fulfilling,purpose-driven life.And I won't compromise my peace to meet anyone else's idea of success.
Ultimately,this isn't a story about rejecting men,romance or motherhood.It’s a story about rewriting your own script.Choosing a path that fits—not one you've been told to follow—and showing the world that being single and child-free is wonderful too.
If that upsets a few people?So be it.
Shiny Happy Singles: Celebrating The Joy Of Independent, Childfree Lives by Lucy Meggeson is published by Bloomsbury, £18.99