We were told to make it look good.
Make it presentable. Desirable. Structured for public consumption.
We were taught that love should be photogenic, poetic, and performative—captured in captions, optimized for attention, and dressed in whatever costume culture demands.
But some of us want love that’s unfilmable.
We want the kind of romance that doesn’t perform.
I’ve been both the performer and the observer. I’ve loved in ways that looked right from the outside but left me hollow in private. I’ve been partnered to people who preferred the idea of being seen with me over actually seeing me. I’ve been guilty, too—falling for the version of connection that felt rewarding because it looked impressive.
But what I’ve learned—what I know in my bones now—is that intimacy has nothing to prove.
The more authentic the connection, the less it needs the applause.
Romantic Sovereignty Begins with Rejection
To find real intimacy, you must first reject the performance.
The curated timeline. The performance reviews from friends. The projection of perfection.
Romantic Sovereignty means choosing connection that serves the soul, not the storyline.
It’s eye contact that says “I see who you’re afraid to be.”
It’s silence that holds, not hides.
It’s a willingness to be awkward, unfinished, contradictory—and still choose presence.
Sovereign romance is not:
- The dinner date with matching aesthetic
- The neatly resolved conflict for likes
- The expensive gesture you can post
It’s:
- The fight that doesn’t end in silence but softness
- The text that says “I’m scared” without fear of losing ground
- The moment your truth interrupts your pride, and you say it anyway
There’s a Lie We’ve Been Sold…
“If you don’t perform well enough, they’ll leave.”
So we perform:
- Emotional availability without vulnerability
- Sex without intimacy
- Love without self
But the truth is: if they only stay because of the act—you’re already alone.
The Cost of Performing Is Too High
Performative love feels like success until you’re exhausted from acting. Until you realize that your body showed up, your photos showed up, your curated joy showed up—but you never did.
A relationship built on performance is a slow betrayal of the self.
So ask yourself:
- Can I show up angry, imperfect, confused—and still be loved?
- Can I want more without guilt?
- Can I let go of control and still trust I’ll be held?
If the answer is no, then that’s not partnership. That’s pressure wrapped in proximity.
The 3 Layers of Sovereign Romance
- Presence over Perfection
Show up real before you try to show up ready. If you’re always trying to impress, you’re not actually in the relationship. - Intimacy before Identity
Don’t get addicted to what the relationship makes you look like. Get addicted to what it makes you feel like when no one’s watching. - Truth before Tenure
Longevity means nothing without honesty. Stay because you’re seen—not because you’re used to being invisible.
I’m not looking for something that looks right.
I’m looking for something that feels right.
Even if it’s messy. Especially if it’s messy.
Love me how I live:
Unpolished. Unapologetic. Still becoming.
Not for show. But for real.
Because this is the romance that refuses to perform.
And it’s the only kind worth keeping.