Redefining Romance and Relationships

When we think of romance, what is the first thing that comes to mind?

Flowers? Chocolate? Dating? Your first kiss? Holding hands?

When we think of relationships, where does our mind take us?

Romantic partnerships? Falling in love? Getting married? Having babies?

Does any of this sound familiar? Yeah, it does for me too. This singular idea of what romance and relationships are “supposed” to look like has been carefully manufactured, wrapped in heteronormativity, and marketed to those who long for deep, nurturing connection—the kind that says, “I see you, and I love what I am seeing.”

Unfortunately, this is not a common occurrence in today’s society. We’ve all heard the horror stories of Tinder dates gone wrong, loveless marriages where people are “staying together for the kids,” and the deep emptiness of being “in a relationship” while feeling completely alone. Many of us have lived these moments long enough to tell the tale. I know I have.

I know what it’s like to go on a first date, afraid, making sure at least one friend knows where I am and what I’m doing. I know what it’s like to stay with someone to “save face” because everything looks good on paper. I know what it’s like to feel completely alone, with no one to talk to, yet someone is lying next to me in bed every night. 

This is not love. This is not romance. This is not a true relationship. This is the greatest act we have been prepared to play our whole lives. Does it fit the façade? Does it look good on paper? Is it something anyone would want if it meant we succeeded at settling? I got the ring; therefore, I won. I have kids, therefore it’s a happy family.

Time and time again, I hear, “Well, they’re my best friend.” Yet when asked whether or not they would want a best friend who behaves the way they describe—someone who doesn’t listen, doesn’t help with the kids, ignores pleas for support, and puts in little to no effort toward connection—the answer is usually no. Sometimes we go even further, defending these people by excusing their behavior or recalling moments when they did show up or do something kind. Why are we defending someone who isn’t showing up for us in ways we would expect from a best friend? Or are we defending a choice we once made that no longer aligns with who we are?

I’ve also heard—and said—“Well, we’ve been together for so long.” The misidentification of complacency for comfort makes staying appear easier because more steps need to be taken to build the life we truly want. However, it requires far more effort to remain in a life that no longer feels fulfilling. If we were truly comfortable, we wouldn’t feel so unhappy or continue to entertain the idea of leaving. Then there’s, “But what would (insert person of importance) think?” To that, I respond: If they love you, they will support you. How often are we clipping our own wings and mistaking gliding for flying?

So now you may be wondering, “Well then, how do we fly?” One thing that has helped me is redefining what I mean when I use the words romance and relationship based on my own lived experience. These concepts don’t need to be defined by societal expectations of what a romantic relationship is “supposed” to look like. They can be something different. Something new.

Before redefining romance and relationships, we must first examine how deeply these words are entangled with sex and consciously decouple them. One thing I’ve noticed is how overly sexualized everything has become, even sex itself. Instead of being honored as a meaningful act of connection and attunement, sex has been reduced to a commodity: something to do, something to consume, something to hurry through, and something to expect from others. Sex sells, and we are encouraged to chase the next climax, buy the wedding ring, objectify each other for the purposes of reproduction, and continue to purchase and consume. When we begin to desexualize our minds, we open ourselves to understanding romance and relationships in an entirely new way.

Through moments of solitude on this journey, I’ve learned that romance takes many forms. Romance looks like playing at the park with your child or engaging in a craft and watching their eyes light up as they view their creation. Romance sounds like laughter among a group of friends out dancing, having a cozy night in playing games with face masks on, or singing karaoke at the top of your lungs in a chorus of celebration. Romance feels like the sun kissing your skin through the leaves of a tree, the soft caress of the wind through your hair as you walk down the street, or the warmth of tea hugging you from the inside. Romance can be experienced in solitude, with another, or among a group of cherished souls. This is how I define romance for myself. 

Once I redefined romance, I was able to re-evaluate what relationships mean to me. They were no longer centered around having a romantic partner or seeking validation through sexual intimacy. Instead, relationships became about connection, attunement, and care. I began noticing moments of mutual presence or anticipating each other’s needs. The way my child seeks me for comfort when hurt. The moments I have held friends who are crying as they fall apart in my arms with a steady and loving embrace. Conversations that flow with ease and understanding. Playfulness, laughter, and shared joy. These experiences showed me what relationships are meant to look like and what they feel like. They feel like love.

When was the last time you experienced genuine love, where someone truly cared for you, was here for you, and accepted you as you are? Not lust. Not desire. Not, "I do need something from you". Not, "I’m here only on your good days". Not, "I did this, so now you owe me that". But love rooted in care, presence, and concern for your well-being without expectation of repayment. If we are willing to walk away from friendships that fail to meet this standard, why do we remain in romantic relationships that offer only the bare minimum?

This is not to devalue romantic partnerships or suggest they should be discarded. Quite the opposite. Reframing romance and relationships raises the standard for all connections, deepening intimacy and alignment across every relationship we hold, including romantic ones. The goal is to cultivate richer connections and shared attunement for everyone involved.

Some ways we can foster kinship and closeness with others are by weaving in whimsy, play, and curiosity into everyday life. Putting down our phones and fully engaging with our children by turning a household task into a game—picking up the most toys in the shortest amount of time, separating clothes by item, and counting how many items we have of each—creates a safe place for children to learn and have fun. 

With our loved ones, it might look like linking arms or holding hands on a walk. During our walk together, we can look for things that are a specific color and describe how those items of the chosen color make us feel in the moment. “That blue flower filled me with intrigue and awe.” Or we can focus on a feeling—today, we want to feel joy—and naming the moments that evoke it and why. Through shared presence, we learn one another more deeply.

Another activity that builds connection is cooking together. We can select a meal we want to prepare, decide who will bring which ingredients, and gather around the table, each taking on different duties—from cutting fresh produce to marinating the protein of choice. We can take turns checking on the food as it cooks and share tips and tricks on seasoning or knowing when the meal is ready. Taking time to set the ambiance with lighting, music, and décor can enhance the experience we are trying to create. Finally, we share our creation, filled with love, bonding over the labor it took to make it while feeling a sense of accomplishment and gratitude for one another. Here we continue to build intimacy through shared experience.

With trusted companions, we might create intentional experiences of care by exchanging massages. We can set the scene with tranquil music, light an incense and some candles, offer a selection of massage oils, and take turns helping each other’s bodies release and unwind. Checking in about comfort and preferences by asking, “Does that feel alright?” “How is the pressure?" "Do you need more? Less?”, and adding other elements like a warm towel over the eyes, an essential oil of choice, or an exfoliating scrub, inviting in deeper trust and a new level of care and nurturing.

We may also choose to share experiences like bathing together with platonic or romantic partners. Again, setting up the space to evoke whatever mood we are trying to create through the use of candles, incense, music, and other sensory elements. Choosing herbs, flowers, salts, and even bubbles to build upon our experience. During our bath, we can agree to clean each other. Sudsing each other’s hair, massaging the scalp, scrubbing each other’s bodies, and rinsing each other softly. Tending to one another with gentleness and respect—always grounded in consent.

All of this is possible in any relationship where mutual trust, respect, comfort, and consent exist. When we decouple romance and relationship from sex, we expand the ways connection, care, and love can emerge.

So, how do you want to redefine romance and relationships?

What do you want them to look like for you?

How do you want to feel?