Romance, in simplex verum

Nine years ago my husband and I visited the United States. For me, it was the very first time traveling by airplane and visiting the U.S. Our first stop was New York City where we naturally watched plenty of musicals as I told in My suite life. What I didn't share in that post is that my husband and I made a life-changing decision: we decided to get married. I'm not exaggerating when I say that the way my husband proposed to me was the most romantic thing to ever happen to me. A rose gold ring with small brilliant cut diamonds across the full band by Tiffany & Co. still adorns my left ring finger reminding me of that moment every time I look at it. I still swoon over how my husband told me that he picked a ring with multiple diamonds because he wants our life together to be filled with many beautiful moments instead of just one. I think it's very obvious that my husband and I are quite the shameful romantics. We relish in making each other feel special by crafting something for the other or surprising them with a gift the. Our relationship is pretty weird to some since we're married but don't want children (we say: "Pets are children!"). I feel like a lot of people think that those are mutually exclusive or you must have some kind of "special relationship."

My husband and me in Disneyland Paris (2022)

Last month I wrote an article for a magazine on how I deal with love and autism. This got me reflecting a lot on my marriage and how I experience love. It was difficult for me to have to come to terms with the fact that because of the situation a grew up in, I never got to experience pure unconditional love before my adult life. It was always such a struggle for my father to show any emotion besides anger, disappointment and aggression. There was zero room for positivity. When I met my husband, I also came to meet the end of my weird relation with love: until then I thought there was no such thing as true love in real life and that it was reserved for storybooks. I still remember how my father said "Don't you start thinking all of this is real," while we were watching Disney's Enchanted (yes, it happened after I was singing along to That's How You Know). Looking back on it now, I think he feels that way because his own marriage wasn’t one born from love. My parents' union was arranged and they went through the "regular steps": meet each other, get married, move in together and have children. Experiencing firsthand that this only led to sadness and hurt, I'd decided at a young age that I was never going to get married. This aversion quickly disappeared when I met my husband: he showed me that love and romance are actually real.

Now, if I were to imagine all of this happening in the current age, I'm pretty sure people would've labeled me as an aromantic which is kind of scary to me. Over the past years I've seen people go down the LGBTQIA+ rabbit hole in a very unhealthy way. It's one thing to explore your own (sexual/romantic) identity, but it shouldn't become your whole personality. In the end I simply needed to allow myself to heal from my trauma. Luckily I had the perfect partner to tackle this journey with. My husband and I met each other through mutual friends, that aren't friends of ours anymore, funnily enough. According to some, my husband and I should feel blessed as we got together right before the boom of dating apps and the hookup culture it sprouted. I've never used a dating app and none of my friends or people that I interact with either share their experiences with me or they don't use it at all. However, when I watch documentaries on dating apps I feel very bad for those who need, or feel the need, to use them to find a life partner. It seems like they really aren't aware of the fact that these apps aren't trying to get you to meet the perfect partner. They actually want you to spend time and, most importantly, money on their in-app purchases to supposedly enhance the odds of you meeting the person of your dreams.

The person of my dreams is more than just my husband: he's also my very best friend. The relationship between us is one of pure love, dedication and friendship. We are exclusive because we don't want others; just us two is perfect. Unfortunately not all women get to experience this as a realistic option (don't forget some dreams can come true). On social media I've seen more and more women talking about how they've deleted all dating apps and have decided to go celibate for a while (or "boysober"). This is in reaction to modern singles seemingly being unwilling to let go of hookup culture. The women participating in this movement have admitted that they've had to deal with "situationships", open relationships and polyamorous relationships because they - misguidedly - felt this was part of female sexual liberation. On the other hand, some of them admitted that they were just happy they were at least able to date someone they matched with. However, getting ghosted was always a looming threat. This "boysobriety" is for most of them a period to take time off from e-dating and to recenter themselves as most of them have come to realize that just meeting up with someone online to do the devil's tango (commonly referred to as a "dick appointment") is actually pretty unhealthy for them mentally.

Thank you, and take care.