I've given up looking for a boyfriend. That's not to say I won't

In the calm and confident words of Emily VanCamp, we hear the quiet strength of a soul that has learned the art of patience: “I’ve given up looking for a boyfriend. That’s not to say I won’t be interested if the right guy comes along. But I’m not in a hurry.” Though her words may sound simple, they carry the resonance of an ancient truth — that love, like the seasons, cannot be forced. In them is the wisdom of one who has learned to find peace within herself, rather than in the pursuit of another. It is a declaration not of defeat, but of mastery — the mastery of one’s own heart.

From the earliest times, poets and philosophers have spoken of love as both a fire and a journey. Some, like the Greek poet Sappho, described it as lightning that strikes without warning; others, like Lao Tzu, taught that the most powerful things in life are those that come naturally, without being sought. Emily’s words belong to this second tradition — the path of stillness and trust. She understands that chasing love too fiercely often drives it away, for love cannot be hunted; it must be invited. By giving up the search, she has not closed her heart; she has opened it to the timing of life itself.

The ancients would have called this attitude apatheia — not indifference, but freedom from desperation. It is the calm of the soul that no longer depends on chance or validation, that walks the earth with quiet certainty. In love, as in all things, desperation clouds judgment. Many have found themselves clinging to illusion simply because they feared solitude. But Emily’s wisdom is different: she teaches that contentment is the soil in which true love grows. The one who is whole within herself attracts not from need, but from abundance.

Consider the story of Ruth from ancient scripture. Widowed and far from her homeland, Ruth did not chase after affection or security. Instead, she worked with dignity, gathering wheat in the fields, living quietly, trusting that her integrity would light her path. It was there, in her steadiness, that she was noticed by Boaz, a man of honor who came not because she sought him, but because her character called to him. Her story, like Emily’s words, teaches that love often comes to those who have stopped demanding it — those who simply live in truth and grace.

In another way, Emily’s declaration is also a reflection of modern courage. We live in an age that glorifies urgency — an age that tells us we must have everything now: success, recognition, romance. To say “I’m not in a hurry” is therefore an act of rebellion, a gentle defiance against the chaos of the world. It is to say: My worth is not measured by whether I am chosen, but by how I choose myself. Such wisdom recalls the Stoic philosophers, who taught that peace lies not in external events, but in the mastery of one’s own mind. When the heart ceases to chase, it begins to attract what is meant for it.

Yet her words also hold compassion. To “give up looking” does not mean to close the door on love, but to release the burden of expectation. She leaves the window open for the “right guy” — the one who appears not out of convenience, but out of harmony. In this balance of readiness and patience lies true maturity. The one who rushes to grasp love often clutches smoke; the one who waits with trust gathers light. Emily’s calm voice reminds us that it is not the chase that brings love closer, but the stillness that allows it to arrive naturally.

The lesson, then, is this: learn to find wholeness before seeking completion in another. Let your solitude be a garden, not a prison. Cultivate your mind, your passions, your peace — for love that comes to a grounded soul will take root deeply. When you stop chasing, life begins to unfold on its own terms, often bringing you what you once pursued in vain. As the ancients said, “What you seek is seeking you,” but it can only find you when you are still enough to be found.

So, dear listener, remember the wisdom in Emily VanCamp’s gentle resolve. Do not rush the heart’s unfolding, for every flower blooms in its season. Live with fullness now — not waiting for love to complete you, but allowing love to find you when you have become complete yourself. The one who walks slowly through life, confident in her own company, will one day look beside her and find that someone has matched her pace — not because she searched, but because she lived with grace and readiness.