First things first, this isn’t a rant about my boyfriend. Actually, it’s the opposite. I adore him. Seriously. Being around him is like my nervous system exhaling a deep, soothing breath. He’s funny, supportive, kind, and actually makes me feel safe. We have that kind of connection where time just disappears when we’re together. But as much as I like spending time with him, failing to meet him on weekdays has proved to be one of the best and most crucial choices for my mental and emotional health.
Let Me Elaborate
I am 25 years old and staying alone in Mumbai. And if you’ve ever stayed alone in a large city, particularly as a working woman, you’d know it’s not all about paying rent and being independent. It’s the in between. I control every aspect of my life, my food, my washing, my health, my journey to work, my social life, my professional development, and even my emotional stability, alone. There’s no flatmate to split things with. No family member to assist with the small but ongoing chores. It’s me. All of it. Every single day.
And It’s Not Straightforward
My weekdays are packed full. I wake up early, commute for nearly 90 minutes to reach work, work a full day at the office, and then endure the crowded ride back home. That’s already around 11–12 hours lost. When I reach home, I don’t feel like being around people. I want to have something light to eat, sit quietly, perhaps watch something I enjoy, and sleep at a reasonable hour. That’s what helps me reset. That’s what gives me the energy to do it all over again the next day.
So when I attempt to fit in time to see my boyfriend during the week, this rhythm is disrupted. My travels are longer. My meals are pushed back. My rest is delayed. And before I can even think about it, my entire week begins to spiral. I’m exhausted, cranky, and on empty. And for what? A conversation that could have been postponed until the weekend, when I am really relaxed and available.
Initially, I felt guilty. Shouldn’t I be seeing him all the time? Shouldn’t I be trying harder? But then I remembered, loving someone doesn’t involve letting go of your own desires. It doesn’t mean forfeiting rest, routine, and mental tranquillity just to fit an ideal of what a good partner is.
Fortunately, he got it. We had a candid discussion about how I was doing, and we agreed to keep our weekends for ourselves. Fridays through Sundays are our time. We have long dates, stay-ins, watch movies, experiment with new restaurants, or do nothing at all together. And it’s better. There’s no rush, no pressure, no fatigue hanging over our heads. I’m more present, more emotionally engaged, and in all honesty, more enjoyable to be around. So is he. What I’ve been surprised by most, though, is how much this space has added to our relationship. We don’t take time together for granted. We connect better. We anticipate our weekends rather than filling moments into a day already jam-packed. And on weekdays, I’m able to reconnect with myself.
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The truth is, not everyone talks about this side of adult relationships. That it’s okay to need space. That not meeting every day doesn’t mean you’re growing apart. It can actually mean you’re building something healthier, more sustainable. Something that works for both of you.
So yes, not meeting my boyfriend all the time has been a major lifesaver. It’s helped me breathe, find balance, and still hold space for love, just in a way that makes sense for me. And that, I’ve realised, is more than enough.
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