This is part 1 of the ‘Lover Girl’ series

No matter how full of joy and love my life is, I still want a romantic relationship. 

I’m not miserable without one, but there’s still a space that nothing else quite fills the same way. 

I’ve spent a lot of time reflecting on why that is. When I softened my edges to win someone over. When I made myself smaller to keep a relationship. And even when I am happily single. 

I think… I finally have the answer.

The story we’ve been told

Part of the answer, I think, is evolutionary, biological, and societal. We are wired, and have been conditioned, to desire romantic love. Survival. Companionship. Family. Somewhere along the way, we’ve also been taught that finding a partner is one of life’s greatest achievements. 

I’ve seen this play out over and over again. 

With my mum, who keeps telling me, “Don’t worry, you’ll find someone” (with not a very subtle hint of concern), despite me insisting that I’m not in a rush – that I’m genuinely living my best life.  

With high school friends whose first, and sometimes only, questions whenever we met were, “Are you in a relationship now?” and “Did you gain weight?”  

Or with a dance acquaintance. We were once chatting about how our day had gone and why. I said, “I’m feeling proud of myself because I did something brave.” 

His immediate response? 

“What? You got attached ah?” 

I remember just staring at him for a second, bewildered, before asking, incredulously, 

“Huh? Why would getting attached be something I’d feel proud of?” 

I think, on some level, our collective obsession with romantic relationships is a way of coping with uncertainty. 

With friends, for example, there’s nothing formally tying you together. They have their own lives and priorities. There’s no guarantee they’ll always be there when you need them. There are also, of course, some needs that friendships simply aren’t designed to fulfil, like romantic intimacy. 

With a spouse, however, the expectation is different. You’re committing yourselves to one another, often legally. The promise is that you’ll always have someone beside you. That you won’t grow old or die alone. 

It offers a sense of permanence in a world where so much else feels fleeting. 

But I think, at least for me, it’s important to realise that this still isn’t the whole picture. 

Because if I blindly subscribe to the idea of a relationship as the key to survival and happy-ever-after, I run the risk of abandoning myself just to attain what has been framed as the ultimate trophy. Or worse, making decisions simply to avoid the look of pity from those who believe that’s the only way to live. 

I think this approach is, like many things in life, an illusion of control. 

Even with a marriage certificate, there’s nothing stopping either party from becoming emotionally absent, being unfaithful, or eventually leaving. It might make leaving harder. But it’s still no guarantee. 

So, I dug deeper, and found that there’s another layer to this desire. 

My nature

Recently, I’ve realised – or perhaps simply come to terms with – the fact that I’m a lover girl, like Laufey said. 

As much as I sometimes wish otherwise, I am probably the furthest thing from “nonchalant” or “cool”. Not just romantically; it’s simply how I move through life. 

I’m drawn to connection, to understanding how people become who they are. I love conversations that somehow end up becoming about childhoods, fears, hopes, and dreams. I remember little details, whether your favourite colour is mint or yellow. I ask endless questions and share too much.

Affection seems to grow easily and in abundance in the garden that is my heart. I don’t usually even have to try. Whether it’s new friends whose energy I vibe with, the stranger in a queue whose outfit I compliment, or Max Verstappen. 

And when I care for you, I make sure you know. I’ll pick up your call at 2 AM and give random “just because” presents. I don’t hold back from leaving ‘likes’ all over your Instagram Stories; not because I think social media engagement matters all that much, but because it’s one of the little ways I quietly say, “I saw this. I saw you.”

At the root of it all, I believe there are parts of ourselves that only come alive in the space between people. Parts that can only be discovered through curiosity, conversation, disagreement, forgiveness, laughter, love…

Art has been trying to tell us this forever. One of my favorite lines from Before Sunrise goes: 

“I believe if there’s any kind of God, it wouldn’t be in any of us, not you or me, but just this little space in between. If there’s any kind of magic in this world, it must be in the attempt of understanding someone sharing something.” 

Indeed, some of the richest parts of being human only exist because another person is there to co-create them: A conversation. A dance. An inside joke.

So, if I already have all these with friends and strangers alike, what more do I think a romantic relationship offers? 

An excerpt from this beautiful old movie suggests that it is about being witnessed:

But, again, can’t your friends be your witness? 

I already have deep, beautiful friendships. People who witness different chapters of my life. 

Have I unwittingly subscribed to the idea that a romantic relationship is inherently more meaningful than those friendships? 

I don’t think so. I think it’s because a partner offers something different. 

Not better. Different.

The possibility of building a life alongside someone. Of becoming part of each other’s everyday. Of not just witnessing chapters… but reading the whole damn book. Growing through seasons together.  

I think the world keeps trying to force-fit us into one of two boxes: that romantic love is the prize without which life lacks meaning, or that if you’re genuinely happy with your life, you shouldn’t yearn for a relationship. 

I refuse to be pigeon-holed. I would love to find a partner because I value connection, and because I want someone to build a life with. But if it isn’t written for me, I think I’ll be okay too. 

Knowing my ‘why’ has helped me build a more intentional relationship with… romantic relationships. (Cue dry laughs.)

I don’t pursue it out of desperation or get bent all out of shape when it doesn’t arrive on my timeline. 

I think… I’m doing all right so far. 

More to come on what’s changed and the upgrades I’ve installed on my operating system.