We need community and meaningful social relationships to feel a sense of wellbeing. But romantic relationships are not the be all and end all, Aparici says. “[Friendships] can, in fact, be a lot more fulfilling than romantic relationships over long periods of time. It’s not about filling a romantic gap, it’s about living life and enjoying the human experience.

“Ultimately, it’s a person’s choice,” he continues. “You might be a lot happier deciding that you’re single and you can have a hugely successful, fulfilling life that way.”

So, how do we do that – without feeling inferior or that we are somehow losing at life, when surrounded by pressures trying to convince us otherwise? Learning how to really be on our own – and celebrating it – is the solution.

The first step to finding contentment in our own company is to acknowledge that our aloneness is, actually, a universal human experience. “We should take comfort in that,” Aparici says. “That no one will ever properly understand us because we don’t even properly understand ourselves. And language, as much as it is beautiful, cannot fully articulate what it’s like to be me, or inside me, so I’m always going to feel slightly misunderstood. You’re not alone in your aloneness.”

After that comes self-compassion, to learn how to give ourselves what we expect others to give us. “When you’re a kid, hopefully you’ll have a parent who’ll say, ‘Hey, don’t worry. Things will be OK, we still love you,’” Aparici says. “When you’re older, where do you get that soothing from? It’s not easy, but it’s part of the process.”

Sometimes, I’ll go to the cinema by myself. It’s a gratifying experience, but not without its share of unease – sitting there in the dark, it’s hard to shake the feeling that you are, in fact, a social pariah: another sign that the embarrassment we feel when we’re alone is deeply ingrained into our collective thinking.

The taboo of seeing a film or eating in a restaurant by ourselves is a frustrating one for Aparici. In fact, they are “essential”, he says. A time to wholly dedicate ourselves to something that brings us joy and fulfilment. And the benefits go further.

“How can I be my best self if I don’t even know who I am?” Aparici asks. “And how can I enjoy my time with other people if I don’t know how to enjoy my own time? Once you can learn to be on your own, you’re better company by the end of it.”

To really be on our own, we need to know intimately how loneliness manifests for us, both physically and mentally. Is time alone nurturing you, or is it making you anxious? If it’s the latter, the work has to be done. As well as the aforementioned steps, figuring out exactly what it is that brings us joy is invaluable. What does self-care mean for us, and how can we, as Aparici puts it, “rejoice in our solitude”?

There is a distinction to be made between loneliness and solitude: the latter is a choice. When it’s not a choice, that’s when it’s painful. But if we’re privileged enough to be able to choose solitude – a luxury many don’t have – it can be one of the most nourishing things in life. These are times in which we can most enter a state of flow, and give deep attention to the things we love – and perhaps discover new ones, too.

“Being alone feels more or less bearable in relation to how ‘normal’ the condition feels to us at any given point,” writes Alain de Botton, capturing the relativity of loneliness and how we experience it. “It can either be a break from an honourably busy life, or sure evidence that we are an unwanted, wretched, disgusted and emotionally diseased being.”

Ultimately, it suggests, with hope, that if we can work on what being alone can give to us then we will be happier and more fulfilled in our own company – and in the company of others, too. So, if confronted with the unhelpful question “why are you single?”, we can give any manner of reply, satisfied that being single is not akin to being lonely, and that there is much contentment to be found in being alone.