what is love? baby, don’t hurt me

is modern romance dead?

The very first time I thought of romance was at the ripe and respectable age of four. I had just watched Aladdin two nights ago, and as I laid my head on my kindergarten crush Raphael’s shoulder like Princess Jasmine had done to Aladdin in the movie, I felt the fireworks and the butterflies and thought: so this is love.

Love is a concept commodified and marketed to us mainly through media. As children, Disney sold us the pipe dream of fairytale love: a prince or princess that we fall in love with at first glance. The story only ends one way, with a monogamous marriage and a happily ever after (because being married is the only thing that makes us palatable to society!). Stepping into our teenage years, rom-coms come onto the scene: after tumultuous misunderstandings, familial obstruction, and love triangles, the intended couple comes together to dance to an upbeat pop song as the credits roll. Movies like these glamorise the chase rather than the love itself. (Did you hear? Rom-coms are making a comeback!)

In its newest form, love sells as romance novels, popularised by BookTok and Bookstagram. Copies of Colleen Hoover, Sarah J. Maas, stories about childhood friends, grumpy/sunshine couplings, and antagonistic co-workers falling in love fly off the shelves at an unprecedented rate–the publishing industry can hardly keep up as they scramble to find the next big thing. While the popularity of these books gives diverse communities a chance to share their experiences (books by LGBTQ+ authors like Casey McQuiston and minority characters like Natasha Kingsley and Daniel Bae are being spotlighted), romance writers’ focus on becoming the next BookTok sensation brings about an overemphasis on the use of tropes and smutty content which ultimately homogenises the market.

It is through these forms of media that consumers are given unrealistic expectations of love: that it falls from the sky, doesn’t require hard work, and most of all, is explosive and hot. Sex and love have nothing to do with intimacy, but rather everything to do with dopamine and control. With romance novels in particular, the idea of six-feet, Adonis-like men who live only to worship and ravish their women comes into vogue and consumers find reality severely lacking in contrast. Consumers then engage more frequently in these forms of media as an escape which further reinforces their inflated and ultimately false concept of love.

Apps like Tinder and Hinge are profiting off loneliness and sex. Youtuber Kidology lists the various problems of dating apps in her video The dismal state of modern dating: that constant swiping causes burnout and lowers self-esteem as it reduces people to statistics and pretty profiles. Social media also leads modern, love-lorn users to compare themselves. ‘Billionaire boyfriend’ trends and relationship flexing (he wrote me a book, what did your boyfriend do on Valentine’s Day?) lead to comparison which can cause dissatisfaction within existing relationships. Love is seen as a competition or a sort of service here, and a relationship is only good when both parties’ egos are boosted in a sweeping, big-declaration-of-love way that rakes in views. Posts that focus on ‘red flags’, ‘icks’, attachment styles and abusive behaviour, while helpful, may lead to hypercriticism within relationships where everything is put under a magnifying glass and labelled toxic.

To add to that, is the problem of an emotionally stunted generation. Growing up online and constantly having access to dopamine has constituted a generation that takes the easy way out and to an extent, lacks social skills. If a relationship is getting hard, we quit, not understanding that that too, is a part of loving someone. Keeping a relationship physical through sex is easier than being emotionally vulnerable in an indecipherable world. Everybody is in a situationship because commitment is difficult and nobody has the resilience for it. Coupled with media preaching its values on love, which are so distant from real-life relationships, being single often seems less complicated than accommodating a second or even third person.

Joni Mitchell sings in Both Sides Now, ‘I really don’t know love at all.’ Neither does this generation. Raised on unrealistic expectations, an overwhelming wealth of choices, an avoidance of vulnerability and a hypercritical attitude, it is no wonder that love dwindles and dies easily in this environment. But there is hope: post-Covid, we are re-learning the importance of love, third places, and connection, gradually trying on the kindness we owe to other people and to ourselves.

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Who wrote this?

Keiyi is a Hong Kong based reader who writes occasionally, publishing mostly frenzied poems and diary entries on her Substack page. She runs The Uncanny Poetry Club and contributes to her own publication, overthink it. Recent features include her poem “jyut6” in Paloma Magazine.