Is your talking stage just a micro-commitment in disguise?

It starts the way it always does. A like on an Instagram story. A reply to a meme. A late-night text that turns into a deep conversation about your childhood wounds at 2 a.m. Next thing you know, you’re talking every day, exchanging playlists, sharing memes that say “this is so us,” and maybe even FaceTiming before bed. You’re not dating (because they “don’t do labels”), and you’re definitely not just friends (because you’ve already named your future pet together).

If you’ve been in this confusing, addictive, half-relationship situation, congratulations—you’re deep into the latest Gen Z dating trend called micro-commitments.

The term sounds harmless, almost cute, but it’s actually the sneakiest cousin of the good old situationship. It’s everything a relationship promises—intimacy, emotional validation, consistency—without ever having to say it out loud. It’s commitment in tiny doses, just enough to keep you hooked, but never enough to make it official.

The rise of “almost relationships”

Pop culture has been warning us about this all along. Think Challengers—Zendaya’s Tashi floating between two men, emotionally entangled with both but committed to neither. Or The Summer I Turned Pretty, where everyone’s stuck in a love triangle that feels real but never fully defined. Even Love Is Blind this season had people “emotionally connecting” through pods, only to back out when it got “too real.”

It’s the comfort of having someone without the work of keeping someone.

What micro-commitments look like IRL

A micro-commitment is basically when someone invests in small, consistent ways that mimic a relationship—without the actual commitment. It’s the “good morning” texts. It’s them remembering your coffee order. It’s exclusive-sounding behaviour—sharing Netflix passwords, inside jokes, and emotional check-ins—but still insisting they’re not ready for “anything serious.”

It’s a pattern that thrives on the illusion of intimacy. You both feel connected, you both act like a couple in private, but the moment you bring up the “what are we?” conversation, everything turns blurry. They’ll say something like, “I like what we have, why label it?” And because you don’t want to lose the connection, you nod. You tell yourself you’re fine with it. But deep down, it stings that they don’t want to claim you out loud.

On one hand, Gen Z is hyper-aware of boundaries, red flags, and mental health. They’re cautious about love—afraid of giving too much too soon. Micro-commitments feel like the perfect middle ground: a way to stay connected without risking heartbreak.

But here’s the catch—micro-commitments feel like love. You still get the dopamine rush of notifications, the comfort of being seen, and the warmth of someone’s digital affection. It’s addictive, tricking your brain into believing it’s something real. And when it fades (because it almost always does), it hurts like a breakup. Except you can’t even call it that, because technically, there was never a relationship to end.

When connection becomes confusion

The biggest problem with micro-commitments is how they blur emotional clarity. You can’t tell if you’re moving forward or stuck in a loop. You start second-guessing everything—are they busy or bored? Interested or indifferent?

You become the person re-reading texts, over-analysing emojis, and convincing yourself the playlist they made for you means something. But often, micro-commitments are designed to look like effort while avoiding accountability. You end up being emotionally available for someone who’s only half-present.

The truth is, micro-commitments aren’t modern romance—they’re just situationships with better PR.

If you constantly feel anxious about where things stand, if you can’t talk about the future without them shutting down, or if your “relationship” exists mostly online, it’s time to check in with yourself. Ask what you’re actually getting from this connection.

Because love, even in 2025, still needs clarity.

Lead image: Netflix

Also read: Great “text chemistry” is the new love language of Gen Z dating—but almost no one’s fluent in it

Also read: A pocketful of love: Perhaps putting hands in each other’s back pockets is GenZ's way of returning to old-school love