I’ve been single for so long now, and honestly, it’s starting to weigh on me. My family isn’t the gathering type, so holidays are just like any other day—no big meals, no celebrations, nothing special. Most of the time, it’s just me, and as an only child, I’ve learned to do pretty well on my own. In fact, I genuinely enjoy my alone time. After a day of work or hanging out, I love to recharge by chilling out and playing games. But these months—these holiday months—make me feel sad.

I wish I could be like other families, the ones who spend time together, laugh, and cook big meals. It’s something I’ve started to think about even more when it comes to dating. I haven’t been in a relationship for a while, but the last person I liked made me realize something: I want someone who actually likes their family—someone who grew up with cookouts, family gatherings, and that warm sense of togetherness. But at the same time, it made me aware of how different I am. I wouldn’t even know how to interact in that kind of setting.

The thought of dating someone with a close, loving family almost scares me. I’d be embarrassed knowing I couldn’t invite him to any of my family’s nonexistent gatherings. And what if his family realized how imperfect mine is, even though it looks fine from the outside? I’m terrified of the moment I’m sitting in his parents’ living room, sipping hot chocolate, and it hits me like a truck—watching them laugh together and realizing I’m an outsider. That he grew up in a warm, loving home, while I didn’t.

It’s not just that, though. I want his mom to love me like her own. I want to feel like I belong. But it sucks to admit that I can’t even share things with my own mom without being judged or dismissed. I know I have issues. I’ve been working on them for a while, and at my age, I know it’s long overdue. I struggle to communicate my wants and feelings because they’ve always been ignored—my pain, my problems, everything. I know it’s exhausting to deal with, and if I ever find someone, I hope he knows I’m sorry for not being better. But I’d love him for his patience with me.

Even though I’m pretty sure I don’t want kids, if I ever decide to adopt, I hope we could create the warm, loving family I’ve always wanted. A family where our child—our daughter (I’ve always wanted a girl)—would never feel sad on holidays. I want her to grow up with turkey dinners and Christmas presents under the tree. I don’t want her to have to pretend she doesn’t care about the things I missed out on. I want to give her the happiness and love I’ve always dreamed of.