They romanticized romance

Somewhere along the way, people started treating love like a fantasy genre.

They romanticized romance.

So much so that they stopped falling in love with each other, and started falling in love with the idea of each other.

They chase a storyline instead of building a relationship. And the moment the real person in front doesn’t fit the role they cast them in, they get disappointed. Distant. Critical. Confused.

I see this constantly in my coaching work. A woman dates a man who makes her feel seen for the first time in years, and instead of staying present with him, she projects the whole future onto him. House, kids, travel, emotional mastery, spiritual depth, and all the words he hasn’t said yet.

Then the first time he falters, when he hesitates, goes quiet, or struggles to express something clearly, it’s like the spell is broken. She starts to wonder if she was wrong about him, when in truth, he just started being real.

Same goes for men. A guy meets a woman who makes him feel alive again and instead of getting to know her slowly, he turns her into a muse.

She becomes this magical solution to all his past hurt. He puts her on a pedestal, and then blames her when she turns out to have fears, flaws, or boundaries of her own. That’s not love. That’s projection.

Romanticization poisons real connection because it strips people of their humanity.

You stop seeing your partner as a person doing their best and start judging them for not matching your imagination. We don’t fall out of love with people, we fall out of love with our illusions. And if you’re not careful, you’ll keep doing that over and over, convinced no one is ever “enough,” when in reality, no one ever had a fair shot at being themselves in front of you.

Love is not a story. It’s a practice. It’s full of misunderstandings, hard conversations, compromise, misfires, course corrections, and small moments of grace that feel like heaven if you’re paying attention. But to get to that kind of love, you’ve got to let go of the fantasy.

You’ve got to look at the person in front of you and see them.

NOT your projections, not your fear of being alone or your dream of being saved. Just them. And then choose to meet them with presence, compassion, and accountability.

If you can’t do that, you’re not looking for love. You’re looking for a mirror that never cracks.

And mirrors don’t make good partners. Humans do. Flawed, messy, growing, trying humans.

The sooner you stop expecting perfection, the sooner you get to experience something WAY better:

Intimacy.

The real kind.

The kind you have to build.

The kind that asks for your whole heart.

The only kind that ever really works.