What he said: On navigating love and faith

The other day, I caught up with a friend who had just started a new relationship after ending a five-year one. As we tucked into a spread of Balinese cuisine with her new partner, she casually asked, “So, are you seeing anyone?” It’s a question I’ve heard a thousand times, and one that often leads to a brief moment of hesitation.

Conversations with my family aren’t much different either. My aunties and uncles have their own version: “When’s your turn?” I’ll never forget the time one of my aunts raised both hands in prayer, asking God to send me a partner because apparently, my love life was some kind of divine emergency.

Of course, the question is not malicious – it’s just their way of catching up and making conversation. But let’s be real: It often feels like a question off a check list. I sometimes wonder why I don’t feel the same urgency. Am I missing something?

At 35, I’ve had my share of relationships, each varying from somewhat fulfilling to fleeting. The common thread? They were all messy. I spent my late teens and 20s chasing love in all the wrong places, bending over backwards to make people happy, thinking it would fill a void I barely understood. But love wasn’t my only challenge – I was also grappling with the realities of adulthood: career, finances, and everything in between.

Answering the call of faith

Amid these challenges, I found myself gradually leaning into my Islamic faith. It wasn’t a sudden epiphany, but more like a quiet pull, drawing me back to something that had always been there, waiting. One of the two-fold meanings of the word “Islam” is “salam”, a word commonly used in the exchange of greetings among Muslims, meaning “peace”. Hence, it’s not just a salutation – it’s a way of life.

As I deepened my understanding of my religion, I began to reflect on more practical aspects of life – relationships, dating and marriage. In Islam, marriage carries a significant responsibility: The man must provide for his family. It’s not merely about finding the right partner; it’s also about being able to create a stable, secure foundation for a future family. This responsibility is fundamental to the faith.

There is no rush in rebuilding

And that’s when reality set in: I was still rebuilding my life – emotionally and financially – especially after two painful years of unemployment. The more I accepted this, the pressure to get married and to meet everyone’s expectations started to feel a lot less relevant. I realised I couldn’t pursue a relationship in good conscience until I was on firmer financial, emotional and spiritual ground.

Furthermore, “paying back” wasn’t just about repaying my loans to my parents. It also meant being there for them in ways I hadn’t before, especially now that they are older and growing more frail. Caring for them, in ways both big and small, became more fulfilling than chasing the idea of a romantic relationship.

You can’t hurry love

Looking back, I realise the urgency I once felt to meet society’s expectations of love and marriage was misplaced. There’s no checklist to follow, and no timeline that defines when it’s “your turn”. Life is messy, unpredictable, and often not what we imagined. But I’ve come to see that peace isn’t about conforming to external pressures – it’s about embracing where you are, finding contentment in the present, and nurturing what truly matters.

And right now, that means focusing on my family and my faith, while cherishing my job and the company of close friends.

If there’s one thing I’ve learnt through this journey, it’s that sometimes, the most fulfilling thing you can do is take a step back, breathe, and allow yourself the space to simply be. Everything else can wait