I’m A Lucinda: The Summer I Decentered Men From My Life

This article is written by a student writer from the Her Campus at JMU chapter and does not reflect the views of Her Campus.

Most people choose to label themselves as a ‘Carrie,’ or a ‘Samantha,’ or maybe even a ‘Charlotte,’ but me? I’m a Lucinda. Now, before you go and rewatch every Sex And The City episode, desperately trying to find out who TF Lucinda is, don’t bother. I’m not talking about SATC, but I’m talking about everyone’s favorite show: The Summer I Turned Pretty.

As I’ve watched this most recent season, it’s been easy to recognize how Lucinda, Taylor’s mom, revolves her entire life around men. It’s subtly prevalent in practically every scene she’s in: debating going back to Scott, her toxic ex who f*cked her over, because she’s lonely; wanting to reach out to Scott to help with her money problems despite him being the one to cause them; calling Steven in hopes it’ll get him and Taylor back together; repeatedly telling Taylor to go back to Steven, even after he firmly tells her that he wants to stay friends; gifting Belly lingerie at her bridal shower — a gift moreso for Jeremiah than for the bride herself — and being the only person to do so; need I continue?

As much as I hate to say it, I honestly saw a lot of myself in Lucinda. I haven’t gone more than a few days without talking to a guy — and it’s been like this since my sophomore year of high school. Anytime I do manage to go a few days alone, it’s miserable. 

I’d constantly have friends tell me that all I talk about is guys, even to the point where one of my friends told me she was “really concerned” about me because I revolved my entire life around men. It damaged my friendships, led to an insane dependence on my situationships, and, truthfully, I felt like I couldn’t talk to any of my friends about my life. 

Honestly, I’ve never really noticed it. I mean, sure, I talk about guys from time to time, but who doesn’t? It wasn’t until I was watching TSITP and felt empathy for Lucinda that I started to recognize this behavior in myself. 

I recently found myself in a situationship (is anyone surprised?) and just had a gut feeling that I was meant to be alone — like it was finally my time to focus on myself and officially decenter men from my life for once. It was honestly a really weird feeling, and I felt like I was at a crossroads in a way. 

On the one hand, I truthfully felt lost without a guy in my life. It might sound dramatic, but I was scared to know what life would be like without constant male validation. But on the other hand, I wanted to figure out who I was at my core without a man involved. And I knew deep down that I couldn’t learn to love myself until I learned to love being alone.

Eventually, after my situationship and I stopped talking, I accepted the fact that it was time for me to finally be by myself — something I hadn’t experienced in years. And honestly, it took some getting used to. Even though I wasn’t consistently talking to anyone, that didn’t stop me from spending my nights on dating apps. I spent my days swiping mindlessly, not even invested in any conversations, but more so just bored and wanting something to entertain me as time passed. 

I soon began to wonder if my problem was that I didn’t have enough friends. Maybe I had too much free time, and that’s why I felt like I needed a boy to fill the boredom void. This led me to download Bumble BFF. Suddenly, I went from swiping left and right on guys to swiping left and (mostly) right on potential new friends. 

As I began talking to new girls, making friends, and setting plans, I felt my need to be on any dating apps suddenly just… disappear. I eventually deleted Hinge and Bumble, embracing the man-free life. And somehow, it felt like a weight was lifted off my shoulders. As I picked up a few jobs, my schedule filled almost instantly between work, class, homework, and friends, and I couldn’t even fathom having room in my schedule to even worry about a guy.

I’ve realized that I spent so much of my time and energy throughout my life worrying about a boy. I would cry weekly over something a guy did or said to me, and now, I genuinely can’t even remember the last time I shed more than just a few tears over something deeper than an Instagram Reel. 

Transparently, I used to go to bars with the intention of talking to guys— it would feel like a failed night if a guy didn’t offer to buy me a drink or ask for my number. And now, I’m at a point in my life where I (politely!) reject practically any guy that comes up to me because I’m sick of going out and spending my entire night talking to a man when I’d rather spend my night with my friends. 

Recently, I’ve found myself thinking back to the times when I prioritized a guy over everyone else in my life — including myself. From ditching my friends that drove hours to see me so I could go to a darty my situationship invited me to or skipping important classes and quizzes so I could spend more time with my boyfriend, I’ve found myself baffled at my past actions. I had allowed myself to become the person I’d always dreaded I’d become, and it’s taken months for me to rebuild who I once was. 

Sometimes, I’ll see friends with their partners and I’ll think, “Man, I really want a boyfriend,” and it doesn’t take more than a few seconds to realize how untrue that is. I’ve gained comfort and happiness in being alone, and honestly, I have felt some extreme secondhand embarrassment when I look back and remember how I’ve let a man completely destroy who I was. 

As somebody who was once a Lucinda, I’ve found that there’s so much comfort and peace that comes with being alone. Maybe I used to be a Lucinda, but now I’m a girl who loves watching the sunset, reading late at night, spending time with her friends, cuddling with her cat, online shopping, taking hours figuring out her outfits, making (and drinking) endless iced chai, writing articles, and exploring who she is. Sure, I was once a Lucinda, but now I’m a girl who finally knows who she is — with no man involved.