A MERRY SINGLE CHRISTMAS

How the festive holiday unfolds in my home...

My Christmas tree stands proudly in the corner of my apartment—tall but slightly lopsided, and decorated with a mix of ornaments and emotional growth. There is no partner to untangle the lights with or to debate whether “Gremlins” counts as a Christmas movie. (It does. End of discussion. Lol.) Just me, a festive mug of hot chocolate, and the realisation that I enjoy spending the festive holiday solo. I always have...

When you’re single at Christmas, some people tend to treat you like you’ve come down with a mild case of the flu—lots of sympathy, a few awkward looks, and the occasional “You’ll find someone soon.” But here’s what they don’t realise: being single doesn’t mean being lonely. In fact, it is wonderfully peaceful and stress/pressure-free. No in-laws, no compulsory matching pyjamas, and no need to pretend to like your partner’s aunt’s raisin-infested fruitcake.

Instead, I set my own traditions. I watch whatever Christmas movies I want (sometimes all of them), might order a takeaway (or two) on Christmas Eve, and have fun opening presents. Mostly the ones to myself! There’s something deeply satisfying about buying yourself the gifts you actually want (well in advance so you have a chance to forget what you bought) and then being genuinely excited to open them.

Of course, there are moments when the absence of physical presence hits. When you scroll through endless couple/family photos (shared to Instagram) of them in matching sweaters and wonder if you’re missing something. But that’s when I remind myself: love isn’t seasonal; it isn’t limited to romance (and not everything we see online is an authentic representation of what is happening in real life). I’ve learned to pour that energy back into myself—long walks, spontaneous trips, solo dates, and cosy nights with no one to impress or 'perform' for. I maintain my standards and keep up appearances for myself not for anybody else.

This Christmas, I am reminded that independence can sparkle just as brightly as tinsel. Self-respect looks good under fairy lights and joy—real, grounded joy—comes from knowing that my happiness isn’t on layaway until someone else shows up. I choose to be happy daily (even on the heavy days).

So here’s to another Merry, Single Christmas. Not the kind filled with loneliness, but the kind filled with joy, special hot drinks, a little food indulgence, my favourite festive movies and the quiet confidence of a woman who has learned that she has always been enough.

Merry Christmas, and God bless.

Written by Charley - @charleyjaiuk

All details and information correct and up to date at the time of publishing.

LOVED BUT CHEATED ON

I was inspired to write this article since hearing countless stories — mostly from women — and devastating experiences of my own that I have long overcome.


Beautiful faces are everywhere; beautiful hearts are rare. You can love someone and still cheat, because lust and excitement often override loyalty. People will leave real love for something fleeting, only to be left with ashes.

I was 23 — independent, determined, quietly sad yet thriving in my job. He was 19 — ambitious, charming, affectionate, and family-oriented. We met at my then workplace and were instantly drawn to each other. After exchanging numbers, we became inseparable and quickly moved in together. Life felt effortless: shared chores, constant laughter, aligned values. I was truly happy and, for the first (and last) time in my life, I considered having children (which says everything!).

I’d previously sworn off men after an abusive relationship, but with Age 19 I felt safe again — until, one year in, things changed. He became distant, secretive, more influenced by his friends, and openly welcomed innapropriate behaviour from/with other girls. Eventually, he cheated with someone he had no intention of committing to — it was simply an easy escape from facing me to end our three year relationship respectfully, at which point I was 26 and he was 22.

There had been arguments, sure, but nothing that justified betrayal. The girl he cheated with pursued him purely because she could, and he followed the crowd instead of his conscience. Weakness is dangerous — in men, women, everyone. Strong people resist temptation; weak people crumble to it.

Despite everything, I handled his betrayal with more strength than I’d had in the past. I loved this boy deeply and his character gave no indication that he would ever do such a thing. I was beyond angry and conflicted between the hurt and love but, after much back and forth, arguments, etc., I said what I needed to say (albeit not pleasant to deliver, nor for him to hear/receive) and walked away. He wasn’t a bad person, just young, inexperienced and easily influenced; however he left me utterly broken! My health suffered, I withdrew from life, and rebuilding myself took some time.

Four years later, my next relationship lasted five years but lacked emotional depth. He had insecurities he refused to face which subsequently caused him to allow his ex to disrupt our relationship but for her own selfish reasons - he later learned that she didn't want him, she used him to make another man jealous. WILD! 

I had warned him, suspecting that she wasn't being genuine. Woman to woman, we always know; we can see/sense what men don't. But, he chose to follow the beat of his penis instead of the beat of his heart. How do you tell someone, "I love you but I think I want to be with someone else?". Someone you don't love! Lust is something else!! So too is plain foolishness! Ultimately, he did me a favour.

I forgave him and let it go with the end of the relationship. Forgiveness comes easily to me, but forgiving myself took longer. I began to realise that I had been ignoring my instincts because I didn’t know my worth — a wound left by the abusive ex. I held on to 'relationships' (including certain 'friendships') already in the bin because I wanted forever. 

Age 19 did love me, but love isn’t enough without maturity, effective communication, and honesty. Cheating destroys the foundation — once you take your body to the community, respect and trust are gone!! The devastated partner can get over the disrespect but trusting you again is unlikely.

Even now, after more disappointing experiences, that particular relationship stays with me. I haven’t loved anyone the same way since, and I haven’t felt as safe or desired as I did with/by him at the start. I’ve been single for many years now and, honestly, I feel done with men (romantically). Their mere existence can feel like a threat, and dating today is just disappointment after disappointment! Most men I've met in recent years have either been taken, confused, not truly happy with themselves so out in the streets causing mayhem and knowingly breaking hearts, or they are emotionally unavailable, or simply not grown enough to match/align with the life I’ve built.

If you haven't previously done so, once you hit age 30, you must take responsibility for who you are and what you bring into someone else’s life. Don’t destroy people because you refuse to sort out your insecurities. Don’t lie your way into comfort and call it love while also wearing a mask to hide your 'ugly' truth.

If you cannot sit confidently and have an honest conversation about who you truly are, you’re not ready for romance, SEX, or even true friendship. Stay single and celibate until you fix the broken parts of yourself. People deserve to know your truth before they give you their energy, heart and body!!!

No more games after 30. Hurt people hurt people, but healed people can heal. Stop dragging chaos into someone's life because you’re afraid to confront your issues. We all know what being loyal looks like; stop pretending you don’t! - FYI: It isn't limited to not having sex outside of your relationship. 

Work on yourself; learn self-love and responsibility so you can live authentically and take accountability for when your choices/behaviour impacts others. Without that, you’re only going to end up repeatedly hurting people.

I said what I said.

Written by Charley Jai - @charleyjaiuk

(Age 45 at the time this article was published)