The main reason cited by almost all my respondents from different countries: freedom.
Not "freedom from loneliness," but freedom through solitude.
Freedom from Compromise
Any close relationship requires compromises. This is normal and healthy—when compromises are mutual and don't destroy your identity.
But for some people, the price of compromise is too high.
Carlos's Story: Architect, 45, Buenos Aires
Carlos was married for 12 years. Divorced at 40.
"It wasn't a bad relationship," he explains. "We didn't fight constantly. My wife was a good person. But every day was a compromise."
He loves classical music—she hated it. He got up at 5 AM to draw—she slept until noon. He wanted to live in the countryside—she insisted on central Buenos Aires.
"We found solutions. But that meant: I sacrificed what I loved for the sake of keeping the peace."
After the divorce, he moved to a small house in the suburbs.
"Now I listen to Bach at 6 AM, loudly. I draw plans until 2 AM if I want to. I eat when I want, sleep when I want. It sounds selfish, but you know what? For the first time in years, I feel like myself."
Carlos isn't against relationships in principle. But he's no longer willing to give up himself for them.
"If I ever meet someone with whom compromises feel natural rather than painful—great. But I will no longer seek relationships out of fear of being alone. Because being alone isn't scary."
Freedom of Time
In relationships, your time stops belonging only to you.
You need to coordinate plans. Consider others' desires. Account for your movements (not in a toxic sense, but in a practical one—"I'll be late from work," "Where did you disappear to?").
For some, this is a warm feeling of care. For others, a suffocating cage.
Amina's Story: Writer, 37, Marrakech
Amina has lived alone in a small apartment in the Marrakech medina for ten years—a rare choice for an unmarried Moroccan woman.
"I live by my own schedule," she says. "Sometimes I write all night and sleep until noon. Sometimes I don't write at all for a week, just walk through the bazaars, drink mint tea, watch people. I can spontaneously go to Essaouira for the weekend. I can stay home for three days without leaving."
In her last relationship (five years ago), her partner constantly asked: "Why didn't you warn me?" "Where did you disappear?" "We agreed on today!"
"He wasn't controlling. He just wanted a shared life. And I wanted my own life, which sometimes intersects with someone else's."
Amina tried a compromise—dating but living separately. It didn't work.
"For him, it was a temporary measure before living together. For me, it was the ideal arrangement. We wanted different things."
Now she writes when inspiration comes. Travels when she wants. Sees friends when she's in the mood.
"In Morocco, this is perceived as scandalous. An unmarried woman, living alone, doing what she wants. My family still hopes I'll 'come to my senses.' But this isn't selfishness. It's simply recognizing that I need control over my time to be happy."
Freedom from Emotional Labor
Relationships require not only time, but emotional energy.
You need to listen, support, comfort, resolve conflicts, manage others' expectations.
For many, this is a natural part of love. For others, exhausting work.
Especially for introverts and highly sensitive people who absorb others' emotions like a sponge.
Luis's Story: Psychologist, 42, São Paulo
Paradoxically: Luis works as a psychologist, listens to people all day—and in the evening wants silence.
"I spend eight hours immersed in others' emotions," he explains. "It's my job, and I love it. But by the end of the day, I'm emotionally drained."
When he lived with a partner, evenings were a battleground.
"She wanted to talk, share her day, discuss plans. That's normal. But I didn't have the energy. I just wanted to sit in silence, watch São Paulo's lights from the balcony."
She felt ignored. He felt forced.
"We were both good people. Just emotionally incompatible."
Now Luis lives alone. After work, he comes home, turns off his phone, sits on the balcony and meditates.
"No conversations. No demands. Just silence. That's my reset."
He's not antisocial. He has friends. But friendship doesn't require daily emotional presence.
"I can go a week without talking to a friend, then call—and everything's fine. In romantic relationships, this is perceived as coldness."