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You may be a closet romantic—and here's why you should be proud of it

For everyone who rolls their eyes at romance but secretly saves all the love songs, the world needs more of you right now.

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Our understanding of love, dating, and relationships has always been shaped by the stories we consume—books, movies, TV shows, even that one emotional playlist you only listen to when you're spiralling. Whether it’s curling up with Pride and Prejudice on a rainy afternoon or binge-watching The Notebook after a particularly single Saturday night, pop culture has offered up a version of romance that’s beautifully unrealistic. These stories have wrapped our idea of love in fairy lights and filtered sunsets, often shielding us from the messy, complicated truth.

But lately, there’s been a shift. In real life, we’re navigating a world of situationships, almosts, non-committals, and “what are we even?” texts. And somewhere in between pretending to be too cool for love and giving side-eye to every couple on a soft launch, a lot of us have become romance sceptics—at least on the outside.

Still, scroll through Instagram and you’ll find stacks of sappy romance novels making the rounds. The kind with mildly heartbroken leads, slightly predictable arcs, and inevitably happy endings. You roll your eyes and then add three to your cart. Because maybe, just maybe, you’re not as cold as you think. Maybe you’re a closet romantic—someone who claims to be practical and cynical, but secretly craves the slow burn, the grand gestures, and yes, the guaranteed happily-ever-after.

In the closet, 'cringe' but we crave it

Tell me you haven’t been stuck in that cycle—craving the kind of love you’d normally call cringe, brushing off effort as just the “honeymoon phase,” and downloading then deleting Hinge more times than you’ve slept. Still, you obsess over which prompt makes you sound mysterious. And then last weekend, you binged Normal People (again) and cried when Connell couldn’t say how he felt. Again.

Yeah, we see you.


Let’s get one thing straight: being a closet romantic in 2025 is a different kind of affliction. We’ve grown up in the era of ironic detachment, where liking things sincerely and passionately is embarrassing, and vulnerability is filtered through memes and group chats. Where replying on time versus replying two minutes late makes a difference in likability and ghosting is just another addition to the list of normalised behaviours amongst Gen Z. But even as we preach detachment and tweet things like “love is an illusion," there’s still a part of us—often buried under sarcasm and Spotify sad-girl playlists—that craves something slow, soulful, and stupidly romantic.

It’s just that romance doesn’t look like it used to. Gone are the days of ’90s rom-coms where love came with a mixtape and a payphone confession. Instead, pop culture keeps feeding us relationship chaos disguised as chemistry. The After trilogy gave us a walking red flag who couldn't communicate. The Summer I Turned Pretty turned indecision into desire. Life List (yes, we saw it) had us rooting for a guy who literally cheated on his girlfriend, but it was okay because he was charming and had sad eyes, apparently?

It’s not that we’ve stopped believing in love. It’s that the love we’re being sold lately feels messy. Quick to burn, slow to grow. Filled with situationship moments and playlists titled for when you realise he’s emotionally unavailable but kind of hot. No wonder so many of us feel cynical about romance. But here’s the plot twist: our behaviour says otherwise.

You say you’re done with love, but your Instagram saves are full of quotes that say “the right person will choose you every day.” You mock the Anyone But You marketing, but watched it twice just to feel something. You tell your friends you’re not into dating, but spend hours analysing texts that ended in a full stop instead of an emoji. You’ve got emotional range—you just hide it behind eye rolls and hyper-independence.

The line between real and reel in love

We get it. Love, as it’s portrayed today, often feels performative. Between beige couple selfies, aesthetic soft launches, and endless stories that romanticise toxic relationship tropes, it’s hard to separate what’s real from what’s curated. No one wants to be the clown who believed in having a proposal to ‘Perfect’ by Ed Sheeran and got ghosted on a Wednesday.

But somewhere between your rejection of hallmark clichés and your obsession with Emily in Paris and Bridgerton, there’s a truth: you want a love that feels like it matters. Not perfect, not filtered—just something real.


Let’s not forget how we got here. Pop culture has always shaped our blueprint for love. From Lizzie Bennet’s rain-soaked reunion with Mr Darcy to Rahul’s “Pyaar dosti hai” in Kuch Kuch Hota Hai, from the ache of unspoken feelings in Past Lives, to Bunny’s restless heart in Yeh Jawaani Hai Deewani, we were taught to see love as both longing and resolution. The kind that changes everything. But modern media? It’s given us a crash course in love’s disintegration. Characters fall in love because they’re trauma-bonded, bored, or stuck in a small town. Happy endings are rare, and even when they happen, they’re shadowed by realism because “too much hope is naive.”

So we adapt. We tell ourselves we’re above it. But even if you pretend not to care, your algorithms know. They see you watching Your Name edits at 1 am. They know you follow every Taylor Swift relationship update, even if you claim not to care.


The reality check about romance

The truth is, being a closet romantic isn’t about denying heartbreak or pretending love doesn’t suck sometimes. It’s about having the nerve to want something genuine in a world that often treats intimacy like a weakness. You can be practical and still pine. You can hate couple hashtags and still want someone who remembers your coffee order.

And maybe that’s where we’re heading now—a version of romance that isn’t performative or delusional, but quietly hopeful. One where you don’t really need fireworks, just someone who texts back with punctuation and emotional consistency. One where being soft isn’t cringe, it’s brave.

You might be perceived as someone simply trying to act up and to be seen differently just because you differ in opinions and actually, truly and sincerely crave the 3 am long drive kind of love and not the hook-ups, but others’ perception of you isn’t paying your bills, be it electricity or emotionally.

So if you find yourself tearing up at a well-written love confession, secretly rooting for the couples on Single’s Inferno or saving “cute date ideas” on Pinterest just in case, don’t worry. You’re not a hypocrite. You’re just human. And possibly, a closet romantic.

Lead image credit: Netflix

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