We text every day. We share memes, laugh over inside jokes, and maybe even pretend not to notice how our hands brush when we walk side by side. It feels like something, but not quite something enough. And the minute someone asks, “So what are you guys?”, you freeze. Suddenly, it’s not that deep. You’re “just vibing.” You tell yourself you’re chill, low-maintenance, the “no-labels” kind of person. But the tiny ache in your chest says otherwise.
Situationships, those almost-relationships that live somewhere between friendship and commitment, have quietly become the new normal. They’re sold to us as freedom, as a low-pressure, no-strings-attached kind of connection. But somewhere between “I’m not looking for anything serious” and “I think I might actually like them,” we lose ourselves.
There’s something tempting about calling it casual. It gives us permission to care a little, but not too much, to hope quietly, but never admit it out loud. We convince ourselves that not needing a label makes us cool, evolved, and emotionally mature. But what it really does, most of the time, is protect us from vulnerability. We stay half-in, half-out, telling ourselves that being “chill” is safer than being honest. Yet, pretending you don’t care eventually becomes its own kind of heartbreak.
There’s a difference between talking to someone you have a crush on and being in a situationship. One feels like a possibility that is full of curiosity, late-night conversations, and growing connection. The other blurs the lines until you can’t tell the difference between effort and comfort, all while standing still and pretending that there’s progress. We live in a world that celebrates detachment and emotional ambiguity. On social media, people make jokes about “almosts” and “soft launches,” as if emotional distance is a badge of honor. We convince ourselves that caring too much makes us clingy, that wanting clarity makes us needy.
But the truth is, we want to care. We crave connection that feels grounded and mutual, not temporary and uncertain. Still, we’re scared to say it because caring feels like weakness in a generation that calls vulnerability “simping.” We’ve made it trendy to protect our hearts by never actually using them.
The hardest part about a situationship isn’t when it ends, it’s realizing it was never really yours to lose. You’re not single enough to move on, and not committed enough to feel secure. You can’t call it a breakup, but it still feels like one. You scroll through old texts, replay conversations, and try to convince yourself it wasn’t that deep. But it was. Because it mattered to you, and that’s what makes it real, even if it didn’t have a name.
Being honest about your feelings is not embarrassing, it’s brave. Saying, “I like you, but I also need clarity,” doesn’t make you clingy. It makes you self-aware. There’s nothing wrong with wanting something that doesn’t leave you anxious or second-guessing. Real love, the kind that’s mutual, kind, and certain, doesn’t need labels to start, but it also doesn’t run from them.
Love isn’t supposed to feel like a guessing game. It’s supposed to feel safe. Like being understood without needing to overexplain. So maybe it’s time we stop glorifying almosts and start honoring the people and the feelings that show up fully, because wanting love isn’t dramatic—it’s human. No matter how casual the world wants us to be, we deserve more than just an almost.