Ahh, the Love Holiday — marked every year by celebrations both romantic and nonconformist alike. Creativity abounds in non-romantic festivities the likes of Galentine’s, Palentine’s, Palpatine’s, AntiValentine’s, and Single’s Awareness Day (and, for what it’s worth in matters of the heart, World Congenital Heart Defect Awareness Day). Upon the day’s observance, there is a sentiment that we should be celebrating love in all its forms throughout the year. Transparently, I’m in agreement… But what specifically distinguishes non-romantic love from the mushy stuff? And do we celebrate the two differently from one another? On an initial scroll through my preferred short-form video content platform, there was no shortage of suggestions. Though, perhaps to no surprise, much of the advice only further complicated the question. “Do you do romantic activities with a person, like going on dates? Do you feel ‘that spark’ when you’re with them?” offered one relationship counselor.
That — the spark — was raised more than once when I surveyed friends and family for their thoughts on the matter. This brought me no closer to a conclusion, because some suggested they’ve felt a similar spark of excitement when meeting people who became close friends (and I can relate!). Likewise, those framing the spark as a romantic connection couldn’t quite describe what sets it apart from the excitement of potential friendship.
Other than physical attraction, of course. But this, too, can’t give us no satisfaction. It’s not uncommon to share a physical or sexual connection to someone with whom we have no plans to build a life. Asexuality also demonstrates that, as far as defining differences between romantic and non-romantic love go, sex isn’t the only thing. Being asexual doesn’t stop people from having romantic relationships and loving, lifelong partnerships.
What about this “building a life” idea, too? Personally, I’m about to move to a new city for love: three of my closest friends have gathered in that same city, and I want to build my life alongside them. Even still, there is a distinction between them and someone I’d consider a romantic partner, or would enter into a binding commitment with. Do we demarcate romantic love with on-paper agreements? If anything, it seems that shared legal, financial, residential, and familial obligations are likely to set romantic relationships apart from friendships. And yet, not only is this bleak, it is wholly untrue. People can and do share these responsibilities with friends, siblings, and other non-lovers in their lives.
One friend identified a fallacious fissure in my investigation, suggesting that romantic and non–romantic love are perhaps not an either/ or experience, but a both/and one. The love we feel for our closest friends can also be felt toward romantic partners. It certainly rings true in the “marry your best friend” adage, and romantic partners falling “out of love” but remaining friends does happen.
In Gabrielle Zevin’s 2022 novel Tomorrow and Tomorrow and Tomorrow two characters’ lives are deeply intertwined, first by childhood happenstance and later by collaborative passionturned-business projects. Nonspecific-butspoiler-y-if-you’re-nitpicky info ahead: when one character asks another why they never got together — meaning, as lovers — the other replies that they were together. The most intimate parts of that character — fears, hopes, frustrations, ideas — belonged to the other more than anyone else, she says. In a similar unveiling of vulnerability, boygenius’ “We’re In Love” sounds like romance is written all over it. Death of the author be damned, Lucy Dacus — primary lyricist on the track — weaves inside jokes and allusions to memories made with her bandmates. So the lore goes, Dacus tearfully delivered the song a cappella to her bandmates, crafting a tender message: Our friends will know us through our flaws and choose to love us anyway.
So, if non-romantic love isn’t determined by the activities done, the obligations shared, or a lack of physical attraction, and if it can be identical to — or even deeper than — romantic love, what the hell is it? Dear Reader, I wanted the embers of this exploration to ignite some revelatory contrast in romance felt between lovers and the love of non-lovers. The truth is that the division is deeply personal. Because that’s the thing about love — it takes the shape of the container it’s in and then it expands well beyond the edges. It is a boundless, enveloping force that illuminates the highlights of our lives, regardless of the form it takes and with whom it is shared.
If celebrating romance is in your cards this Valentine’s Day, go for it! But alongside that, I offer you this: honor the love you find in every corner of your life. Hold dear to it, and remind the people — or any living creature (including yourself!) for that matter — that you love them. Love people with trust; show them your heart in your hands, and welcome them into your vulnerability. Let love allow you to lean on it, and celebrate its malleability to accentuate any connection you share with others. After all, it seems that love, in all its unstoppable power, is whatever we make with it in our own lives — and how lovely is that? •
Jess Costanza is a PVD-based linguist and arts educator who often sends her loved ones a video of a bottle rocket squeaking endearingly as it explodes underwater to express how they make her feel.
