Every year when autumn comes, I hear about the marriage news of people around me, and at work, someone is showing off their ring while a friend I only know through social media suddenly posts wedding photos on Facebook or Instagram.

If you are a woman working as a designer in a tech company in San Francisco, you might have thought at least once, "With so many men in the company... why is there not a single man I would like?"

When I arrive at work, there are male employees sitting in hoodies and jeans, buried in their monitors with headphones on. They are all nice, smart, and do their jobs well, but to be honest, their style is all very much 'typical nerd.' Of course, being a nerd itself is not bad, but the problem is that the one who might make my heart flutter is always... gay.

This feels so much like a San Francisco cliché that it's almost accurate. There is one guy in the office who dresses well, smells good, speaks softly, and has a good design sense? Just when I feel a little flutter, his boyfriend shows up during team lunch, and I am brought back to reality.

At this point, it's almost funny. Some days, I even find myself scanning the male team members in the meeting room and asking myself, "How many people here have any heterosexual appeal?" The atmosphere in the office is so serious, quiet, and filled with nerd energy that everyone talks only about coding, machine learning papers, and GPU prices, and when someone makes eye contact, instead of a friendly smile, the conversation is about something like, "Um... has the UI pattern issue been resolved?"

But what really frustrates me is something else. My mom calls me and says, "You should meet some guys," and "Aren't you tired of living alone by now?" The problem is that it sounds like I am lazy and not making any effort, as if I am just sitting back and doing nothing. It's as if she doesn't understand what it's like to hold on to life while working in America.

San Francisco itself drains all your energy. From the moment I leave for work, I am tense and moving quickly, and once I get to the office, I am bombarded with endless meetings, Slack notifications, deadlines, and performance pressures all day long, and by the time I leave, I am so exhausted that I don't even want to say a word.

On weekends, I catch up on household chores, do grocery shopping, and barely recharge my energy. But in the midst of all this, I really don't know when I am supposed to handle dating. I'm not some superwoman; I'm just a woman in my 30s, and my day isn't 40 hours long either.

Moreover, the dating culture in San Francisco is even more ridiculous. People you meet on matching apps can disappear at any time, and just keeping a conversation going drains your energy. I want to date. I don't dislike the idea of marriage. But my life is running so mechanically that there is really no space to accept someone.

My parents don't understand this reality and keep repeating, "If you don't meet someone at this age, when will you?" Even though I know whether that statement is out of love or nagging, I can't help but feel guilty and a bit angry. It's not that I can't meet someone because I don't have time; I don't understand why I am being pushed as if I am just lazy.

But honestly, I don't think my pace is wrong. I take pride in my career, I value my alone time, and I don't dislike this life. I just find it overwhelming, and I've decided to acknowledge that.

So I often tell myself, "I'm not late; I'm just preparing for the timing that suits me."

If I force myself to match the speed set by the world, I will only end up collapsing, and I have to live my life in a way that I can handle it.