I’d be a liar if I told you that people come up to me and ask about my relationship status. Luckily, it’s not a common topic of conversation anymore.

Although I might have escaped the era of constantly getting pestered by the question, “Who are you seeing?” I’m still stuck dealing with many invasive assumptions people make about my personal life because I don’t constantly talk about sex and men. 

The question, “What are you?” referring to my sexuality, is my “favorite” question to be asked. I get asked this question by my LGBTQ+ friends in my hometown who have seen me go through high school and now, partially through college without any romantic interests. I also get this question from straight friends and those who haven’t known me long enough to understand that my lack of interest in romantic love is a recurring theme. 

I understand these questions innocently stem from curiosity, but it’s tiring. While I love participating in romance through reading a good romance novel or celebrating Valentine’s Day, I don’t relate to romance in any real, tangible way. I don’t think I’ve truly felt what it means to be “in love” romantically. It just seems so far away, I can’t even imagine it. 

Yet, when I admit this publicly, it’s usually met with distrust. I’ve heard theories from friends, family and even mere acquaintances about my own feelings. I hear excuses for my lack of romantic feelings, such as, “Are you sure you haven’t just found the right person yet?” or “Are you sure you aren’t gay?” People just don’t seem to believe that I am firm in my decision not to want a relationship. 

It seems people don’t believe in a world where someone can live contentedly without a significant other. I’ve been branded as bitter, prudish and even confused before anyone has taken the time to understand that I’ve never felt romantically inclined toward someone. I’ve lived 20 years on this earth, and I don’t think it’s going to happen. Honestly, I don’t want it to happen. 

I am often confused by people who grow uncomfortable when hearing me say this. It’s like they physically recoil at the idea that I’m fine with being romantically alone. I’ve always wondered why this is, and I think it’s because people, upon hearing I don’t believe in romantic love for myself, believe that I don’t believe in love at all. They think I want to die lonely, and this is just not true. 

I want to live my life surrounded by the familial love of my extended family and the platonic love of my friends. As I’ve grown older, I’ve come to appreciate everything that sits on this earth, and that is love. Love is all around me, and that’s why, in some sort of semblance, I can appreciate romantic love, although I think it’s toxic to believe you can’t live a good life without it. 

Having a one-track mind and believing that romance is the only way to experience “true love” can lead to some nasty effects. I’ve seen it myself, with my friends prioritizing their two-month relationship over their college degree, sleeping over at their partner’s place and not getting up for their 9 a.m., skipping group projects and cuddling through study sessions. 

I think it’s fine to have conflicting priorities in life, but to shrink your entire world down to one person cannot be a healthy choice. I’ve seen many people with this exact view of the world get burned, and have to pick up the pieces on their own. Their education, their friends and even their family were completely taken over by one person who ended up kicking them to the curb. 

While having romantic relationships be a central part of your life isn’t the enemy, it’s important to remember that people like me live differently from you, and that’s okay. The way that romantic relationships have always been a topic of peer pressure is toxic. Instead of encouraging others to live the way you think they should, reflect on your own habits first.