A Life Without Romantic Love
By: Mona Kirschner
A few weeks ago, I was heating up my frozen chicken tikka masala in the teacher’s lounge at the high school where I teach in The Bronx, and I overheard my colleague, Nadia, say something about aromanticism, that she identifies that way. I once heard of aromantisim in a film, years ago. Transparently, I thought it was a manner of naming those who ended up single, by choice or otherwise.
Unlike an aromantic person, my desire for love and romance has run my life. I’ve moved countries (twice), gotten engaged to a man who tattooed my name across his chest but ‘loved me too much’ to fuck me, and cried far too many times at that Rachel McAdams movie where the British guy goes back in time to keep meeting his future wife. Hearing about a life where romance, and not necessarily sex, is absent, sounded to me not like a loss, but freedom.
So I looked it up. An aromantic person experiences little or no romantic attraction to others. It is a romantic orientation, not a choice. Aromantics can still feel deep love for friends and family, but they do not feel the urge to fall in love romantically. It’s also not the same as asexual; aromantics means no romantic attraction, they can either be sexual, or asexual.
Nadia is a history teacher, a great one. She is exceptionally progressive and well educated, and through her teaching is miraculously able to instill a sense of ownership in a group of indifferent teens over their country, their past and their precarious futures. I asked if she would talk to me, to give perspective and share her experience of what it is like to live as an aromantic person, shed light on an identity not often talked about, and she was willing and open.
My first thought when I was thinking about what to ask her was - what in the world does this woman do with all that time? The time spent thinking about finding a relationship, thinking about whether to end a relationship, stewing over a fight, obsessing over a great date, hoping for love, recovering from heartbreak, managing the feelings and needs of what was once a complete stranger and is now a person dependant on you and completely intertwined with your life. A union of refrigerator magnets and t-shirts in a dresser drawer, of values and sex drives, of family dramas and incompatible ways of driving.
We all know the statistics - bleak. We know the typical challenges - difficult. We dream of the ideal - eternally hopeful. We scroll celebrity weddings on our phones, envious. And whatever our level of commitment or involvement in romantic relationships, it drives our culture, the structure of our days, our lives, our music, our films. It is acutely, exceedingly present in our conversations, especially for women. If you walk the streets of New York City and listen to aleatory conversations of strangers, it's the most common theme. That guy who didn't text, the paper with a list of desirable traits she burned in manifestation. It can cost thousands of dollars in therapy, yoga retreats, lil sweet treats, plastic surgery, weddings, the security deposit on that post divorce apartment, that crock pot neither of you use, that fee you pay to give a rose to someone on Hinge, standing out as a more worthy candidate in the dark ether of the dating apps. What would opening up that much space do to your life? To your wiring? Would you feel some form loss? What would your family say? Do you still have sex? Are you lonely? Are you happier? Than me? Than us? Than them?
What follows are some of those questions, revealing a fascinating perspective, causing me to stumble into a powerful realization of my own approach to love.
Nadia on Love, Sex, and Freedom
MK: How do you describe aromanticism to people who've never heard of it, in your own words?
NA: To me it's a wiring of the brain - the way I think about my life and my goals doesn't include a vision of another person. Particularly in that typical romantic, share your life sense. I don't identify as asexual, but when it comes to intimacy in romance, sharing a space, I don't envision or desire it and never have. My sister married her high school sweetheart, my parents are still married, so I have a clear concept of it, but I've never considered it - having to ask someone else before making decisions sounds bananas to me.
MK: When did you know you were aromantic? Was it after being in a romantic situation, if you have been, or before?
NA: Like most queer experiences, you have a sense of the thing long before you have the name or language for it. I remember feeling something was different when I was in high school, I didn't have crushes like my friends. To be fair, I was looking at it very heteronormatively. Potentially, what made my understanding take longer was growing up in affluent, white spaces as a person of color, so I thought I simply wasn't connecting to that demographic because it didn't represent me. I finally learned about asexuality in a biology class, but knew that wasn't quite how I identified. It took until adulthood to first hear the term aromantic and I thought - Ah, of course.
MK: Have you been open with your family about being aromantic? If so, what was that like?
NA: I have - I feel very fortunate, my sister's partner is non-binary, so we have a lot of queerness in our little pocket of family. I haven't sat them down and done an official announcement or coming out, but my parents are progressive. At this point my sister and I talk about it openly around them, I would venture a guess that they've done some Google research on their own. Before there was a label, I think they knew since I had no interest in dating, but my mom would always say the when you find the right person thing. The fact that neither myself or my sister don't want children was like an easing into it. My parents intend on leaving what they have to me when they pass, since I won't ever have dual income. My dad tries to connect with me in that way, in terms of my financial decisions as a single income person for the rest of my life. A very dad thing to do, but I appreciate his efforts.
MK: What is it like to be aromantic in a world where women identify so strongly in their roles as a wife, partner, girlfriend?
NA: I feel very fortunate having been raised by a feminist, so I was already rejecting the identity that was based on or founded in traditional female roles, especially the ones that elevate maternal or wifely goals. My mom very intentionally did that, having grown up herself in a latin household rampant with those pressures. She made very intentional moves in our childhood, everything from TV shows to books, and more powerfully, not raising us around our religious extended family. My queerness had room to grow. She worked hard for us to not have that traditional experience.
MK: Do you feel like your headspace and your life has more room as an aromantic person, and if so how do you fill it, what advantages do you have?
NA: I do feel like it's an advantage. I feel fortunate to bypass the pressures and many different challenges that can overlap with the desire for children or romantic love. Things like disordered eating - it can be founded by needing to be attractive to the male gaze, there are so many things that affect women that I am not wired to be invested in. I do however have to be good at holding myself accountable, because I don't have someone right there in the trenches of life with me. I am starting to get better at finding ways to push myself and hold myself in line in some aspects. I am not gonna do the thing I don't want to do even if it's good for me. There's no one there to judge me or call me out on it, even things like chores around the house, or self care.
MK: Have you been in a romantic relationship in the past? What was that like?
NA: No. Once I came close, in middle school, I remember having a mutual crush, and as soon as he wanted to progress to holding hands, I freaked out. I didn't want any of that, any of that escalation. That was the end of it, and I never want to be the person who cares less in a relationship.
MK: Do you navigate sexual relationships while being aromantic, and if so, what is that like?
NA: I do - I have fewer opportunities to do so, at least in the way that I'm doing it. I have the double edged sword of being aromantic and being a little anti-social. So I have, but I also have very long stretches of not being intimate with anyone, which doesn't bother me much. Finding the balance of being honest with someone so they don't get invested, wanting to be casual but not disrespectful is a fine line.
MK: How do you navigate a world that is so obsessed with romantic love as the ultimate goal?
NA: I find other people's stories very endearing and very cute. I root for them, even within pop culture and films, music, I still absolutely enjoy those things. I'll happily watch a rom-com, and I'm grateful not to be turned off by a feeling so popular. I do have to advocate for myself on some things - like wanting my own bedroom on a family vacation. I can afford my part, and there's no reason I should sleep on a pull-out because of my sexuality.
MK: What's the most extreme example you've seen of someone losing themselves in a romantic pursuit?
NA: I'm lucky that my friends, at least more recently, have found people that are good for them. When I see people in toxic situations I have learned to silence my judgement because it can force a wedge in our relationship, but because of how my brain is wired, yes I find staying in those situations completely insane. But although I don't feel empathy, I do have plenty of sympathy, and have learned to not judge but to support. I feel very protective, I feel frustration, sometimes I want to shake them, but I know that's sometimes not where they are at, and more often than not it will cause them to pull back. I think I can offer perspective on appreciating yourself and on the experience of a single person, and hopefully that feels supportive.
MK: Do you ever feel lonely?
NA: Since I've never had the opposite, I don't know if I can identify real loneliness, I don't know if I know how to check if I'm lonely. I think as an aromantic person it's far less likely to feel lonely. I also just prefer to be alone, which helps. My baseline is to want to spend time with people for short periods of time.
MK: Is there anything about romantic love that you observe from the outside and envy, or does it feel more like watching something foreign?
NA: Mostly I just feel - that's so cool for them. The parts where it overlaps is when asexuality doesn't relate to my aromanticism and I want physical connection, but even then, I don't actually want someone there for more than five minutes.
MK: Do you feel like you know yourself more clearly because your sense of self was never filtered through how a romantic partner sees you?
NA: I think there are layers and compartments of people that are better defined through collaboration. For example, I don't think I read people very well. There are some aspects that are almost underdeveloped for me. There is also the battle of trying not to be super selfish. I don't share space and it's very easy for me to lay down strict boundaries, so it can be a challenge to make space for the connections and relationships I do have, because it's so easy to burn a bridge and not think about it.
MK: If you could take a pill that made you experience romantic attraction, would you? Why or why not?
NA: Yes - just out of curiosity. I wouldn't do it if it lasted forever though, I love my life the way it is and feel fortunate. However, I'm wired to stay in control, which is something I want to more consciously try to check myself on. I have full control of anything a person could possibly control, I make all the decisions - which my understanding is that that is exactly the opposite experience for romantic people, and I think learning to relinquish control is a beautiful thing.
A Different Kind of Acceptance
What stood out to me most about Nadia’s experience is how accepting she is of where she landed on the complex spectrum of sexuality. As a (overly?) romantic person myself, I am so inspired by her surrender. By her lack of desire to push and twist and fight against where she’s at. I rarely find myself able to relax into my romantic life - whether it's to immediately, desperately try to end the pain of a breakup; not allowing the process to run its course, whether it's catastrophizing when not feeling utter magic every day with a long term partner, or obsessing over finding romantic love when, for a minute of singledom, it's not there. I've struggled to ride the waves of a romantic life without suffering and endless efforts to try and control it. I find it difficult not to compare my life with my sister's, my friend's, with strangers kissing on a street corner in Paris. I haven't had much practice in patience, or much faith to stay still where I'm at. Even the initial envy I felt for Nadia’s freedom from the complexities of romantic love shows a lack of acceptance of my own makeup and experience. Her story urges me to take in the good, to relish in the perks, to embrace the uniqueness. And as for the challenges, to see them as a worthwhile part of love - whether for someone else, or for yourself.
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