There’s a tone that my mother’s voice takes when she talks about women who remarry, and it usually isn’t favourable. She enunciates her disapproval carefully, slowly, through pursed lips. Hearing of a friend of a friend - a neighbour, maybe - who habitually divorces, or remains chronically single, her expression resembles that of pity.
In her eyes - and probably a lot of other people’s - someone who cannot be tied down is seen as a drain on our resources; unwilling to conform, contrarian, self-sabotaging. Yet, despite the disdain, I could think of nothing more fabulous or interesting than having multiple, dramatic, storied love affairs over the course of my life.
What happens to those of us who forge bonds, and communicate, in ways that fall outside of a traditional paradigm - who so often happen to be LGBTIQ+, and at risk of ostracisation or disconnection?
Culturally, we tend to reward and celebrate the people who stay in relationships long-term, even if it’s become totally stagnant, offering them unbound economic, social and judicial privileges. “Marriage is not about love. It is about politics.” : “If romantic love is its own reward, as every Hollywood film and novel in the “women’s fiction” section at the bookstore would have us believe, then why pile on tax breaks, hospital visitation, health insurance, immigration assistance and all of the rest of it? Having a successful love life should not have a determination on whether you live or die.” The Nick Jonas’s of the world can live a mostly unremarkable existence and be given kudos for marrying, as if nothing else could possibly top that earthly achievement.
There are plenty of people I know who enter into relationships freely and easily, and remain there happily for a number of years, finding no issue with the style of monogamy that remains supreme in the mainstream, heterosexual world - good for them.
"What happens to those of us who forge bonds, and communicate, in ways that fall outside of a traditional paradigm?" Writes Jonno Revanche. Source: Supplied by Danyal Syed
Then there are plenty of other people I know who are often single, or who enjoy the nature of short-lived relationships, and the freedom it gives them. Even if that’s what works, there’s not as much of an understanding or appreciation of these intimacies. Some of my most spell-binding, transformative experiences have been short-lived. I even dismiss them myself - they’re “flings.” I’ll use this language even if those relationships totally changed my life or offered insight into my own personality in a way that remained previously untapped or unexplored. When the smoke clears and I’m given space to reflect, I’m impossibly grateful to have had those experiences - having been able to feel real vulnerability, and to see myself reflected in the eyes of a friend, a lover, a soulmate, if only for a short time, and then to give myself permission to move on.
Ephemeral relationships do not make either party capricious or unloveable. Temporality is largely misunderstood, or scorned, even as traditional relationship preferences have moved forward and we’ve become more understanding of say, open relationships. Being queer, I’m surrounded by people who are constantly interrogating (or trying to) analyse what attachment style works for them. Which is not to say we’ve life-hacked intimacy, or something obnoxious like that - but it’s nice to have room to welcome and alleviate the shame of different love languages, instead of persisting through toxic ones just out of obligation. This is not just pseudoscientific gesturing; the diversity of relationship formats has been discussed via a burgeoning area of studies called Very often, in a culture that prioritises one attachment style, outliers may be at risk, and discouraged from the necessary introspection needed to evaluate our behavioural patterns and develop agency.
Our obsession with long-term commitments (outside of basic security and comfort) is not unrelated to a western anxiety of death, or even of aging - we’re unable to admit to ourselves that nothing lasts forever. The truth is, (obviously) nothing lasts forever, and even if we get married, our relationships could end at any moment. Life is, actually, that unpredictable. That fear can be echoed most precisely through the paranoias of beauty culture, for example, or wellness culture. But life, much like love, can only be valuable if we recognise that it has an end point. The most literal people will argue that romantic love, apparently, outlives even our mortal existences, having clearly indulged in the viewing of too many Rachel Mcadams movies. But to me, the most freeing thing about love is that it can be fleeting, even unpredictable-admitting that allows me to appreciate and process it in the moment, instead of stressing about how to prolong it.
When Ariana Grande dropped Thank u, Next, it “broke the internet.” Rather than being a petty kiss-off to old flames, the song was a humbling appreciation of former loves. The line “one taught me love, one taught me patience, and one taught me pain” rapidly evolved into an internet meme. It was a refreshing insight into a kind of pop-ready relationship anarchy that prized connections because of their evolving nature, not despite them; a romantic fling that “ends” isn’t a failure, and might even be an evolution. I still talk to my exes, send them messages, hang out with them on occasion, and there’s a richness there that might not have been present if our histories were different.
I understand that all relationships, not even just romantic ones, evolve over time - and that some people evolve differently to others. That shouldn’t be an indictment on our value as human beings. Slowly, we’re moving towards an understanding of different love languages and attachment styles. Rather than dismissing them, let’s imagine a world where we value difference and emotional nuance; where we can cater to the needs of every person, no matter their histories.
Jonno Revanche is a writer/editor, cultural critic and multidisciplinary artist originally from Adelaide/Kaurna land. You can follow them on Twitter .
