Romantic and Platonic Love

Full disclosure: I have been in an especially busy phase of late. Travel, a new project, and an utterly incomprehensible amount of significant and persistent home maintenance issues that came up unexpectedly. Sometimes, we just don’t have the bandwidth. (You may have noticed my content on instagram slowing down lately as well.) While I understand that subscription-based publishing is a commitment to you, dear reader, and that I don’t want to let anyone down… I also want to model that we can make choices - when we need to - that honor our capacity and support our nervous systems. May you give yourself the same space that you need to keep yourself grounded through stress and overwhelm.

This piece speaks to one of my favorite concepts in nonmonogamy and in the work I do with my clients and subscribers. And I think it resonates with a lot you. Enjoy the below :)

Photo courtesy of Cottonbro Studio

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“Is it running through the airport kind of love?”

“The only person I’d run through an airport for is you.”

I recently rewatched the delicious feast that is Fleabag, Season Two. (Excuse me, *Series 2 as they’d say in the UK.) I was reminded that the central, requited love story isn’t between Fleabag and Hot Priest. It’s the love story between sisters and friends. Screenwriters know what many of us forget: that love stories can take many forms. And that sometimes the love between friends and family is just as if not more important than what we consider “romantic” love. But what do we even mean when we think of romance?

So many of the stories we’ve been told about love are steeped in mononormative programming.

“I love you more than anyone else.”

“For you I forsake all others.”

But how many of us have grieved platonic breakups just like romantic ones? Or risked more for friends than partners? We’ve felt jealousy, devotion, heartbreak over people we never kissed. Our hearts intuit what our cultural scripts refuse to acknowledge: that the love we share with friends can be just as if not more important than “romantic” love.

Nonmonogamy gives us space and permission to map our relationships with intentionality. To choose love that may not be easily labeled. To build webs of intimacy where care is not ranked by sexual access. Where romance is not a title, but a feeling expressed uniquely in each relationship.

The story we inherit, especially as women, is that romance is rare, precious, reserved for only one counterpart - the chosen partner who receives our desire.

But desire isn’t the whole story of love and it certainly isn’t the boundary. The truth is, intimacy bleeds across those lines of definition. When we feel deeply connected to someone - when they know us, choose us, witness us - we’re wired to respond in ways that look and feel like romance. When we remove the rule that love must stay in one container, the containers themselves start to disappear. Partners become friends, friends become lovers, lovers become family.

I see this concept talked about in queer spaces too: the work of dismantling the patriarchy means challenging customs around how we treat our friends versus how we treat our lovers. Why can’t I bring a friend gifts or make them dinner? Why can’t friends cuddle, cohabitate, go on trips together?

When you’re new in nonmonogamy, your monogamous programming likely supports binary thinking. A relationship is either “romantic” love or it’s not. I have “feelings” for someone or I don’t.

But, like literally everything else, these things exist on a spectrum. You or your “romantic” partner might connect with someone else in a way that could be friendly, sexual, romantic - or its own combination of all of the beautiful nuances of those things.

Early in my nonmonogamy, I realized that I could use the very simple, inherent ethics present in my friendships as an operative framework for my sexual and romantic relationships. I’ve never responded well to rule systems, so well as guiding principles with diverse applications.

Do I have some friends that I prioritize time with over others? Yeah.

Do all of my friendships look the same? Nope.

Would I cancel on one friend in order to spend time with another? No, well, only under special circumstances or in an emergency.

Would I toss aside an old friend just because a new exciting friend came into my life? Nope.

Do some relationships ebb and flow over time? Do some friendships simply wind down or take different form due to circumstance, proximity, etc? Yes. Do some friendships need to end when conflict becomes irreparable, when abuse is present, or when the relationship becomes untenable for any reason? Yes.

The difference between platonic and romantic connection isn’t something a rulebook or culture can hand you. It’s something you feel into for yourself. What matters most is not whether you label a bond as “friendship” or “romance,” but whether the ways you show up together feel aligned, nourishing, and consensual. Some relationships will involve sex, some won’t. Some will involve cohabitation, travel, deep emotional sharing, or none of the above. The activities you choose, and the joy you take in them, are the only real distinctions.

Which means the work isn’t about policing categories. It’s about noticing where you feel enlivened, supported, and connected. When you release the pressure to make every relationship fit a rigid mold, you get to discover the vast spectrum of intimacy available to you, and to build relationships that are uniquely yours.

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For deeper support, you can learn more about my services at intimacywithlaura.com.

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