Is having a boyfriend embarrassing? A therapist’s take
Somewhere along the way, being single became aspirational and being partnered started feeling oddly… cringe. Between soft-launch culture, irony, and emotional burnout, a quiet question is floating around: is commitment actually uncool now – or is something else happening underneath?
There’s a specific type of shame that’s taken over dating culture, and it goes something like this: you meet someone, you actually like them, things are going well - and instead of being excited, you feel the need to disclaimer it to everyone.
“We’re just talking.”
“It’s nothing serious.”
“I’m not, like, obsessed or anything.”
You downplay how much you care because caring feels embarrassing. Being in a relationship feels embarrassing. Wanting a relationship feels embarrassing.
The cultural vibe right now is that being single, unavailable, and emotionally detached is cool. Being partnered up is… kind of cringe.
When did we get here? When did having a boyfriend (or girlfriend, or partner) become something you apologize for instead of celebrate? And more importantly, why does it feel so shameful to actually want love?
The cultural shift – from rom-coms to “raise your standards”
Let’s rewind.
If you grew up in the 2000s and early 2010s, you were raised on rom-coms where the entire plot revolved around getting the relationship. Being single was temporary. Being chosen was the ending. Love was aspirational, not embarrassing.
Then the cultural pendulum swung hard in the other direction.
We entered the era of “strong independence.”
“I don’t need anyone.”
“De-center men.”
“Block him.”
“Raise your standards.”
TikToks teaching emotional detachment as empowerment. Entire aesthetics built around being unbothered.
A recent Vogue article crystallized this shift by openly questioning whether centering life around a man is, culturally speaking, loser-ish. That word stuck because it hit a nerve. Not because it’s entirely wrong, but because it named a fear many people already had and didn’t know how to articulate.
And to be clear, this shift was necessary. People needed permission to stop settling. To stop shrinking. To stop sacrificing themselves just to avoid being alone.
But somewhere along the way, the message warped.
Instead of “you don’t need a relationship to be whole,” it quietly became “wanting a relationship makes you weak.”
Now we’re in a strange place where being in love feels like a character flaw. Where partnership is treated like proof you couldn’t hack independence. Where people feel embarrassed not because their relationship is unhealthy, but because it exists at all.
Why it feels cringe to care
A lot of this shame is reinforced by how relationships are talked about online.
Scroll long enough and you’ll see dating framed like this: being single means you have self-respect. Being partnered means you compromised. Being emotionally invested means you lost the plot.
The jokes are everywhere.
“Imagine having a boyfriend in 2026.”
“She’s in love? Couldn’t be me.”
“Being attached is embarrassing.”
It’s packaged as empowerment, but it’s just judgment with better branding.
Instead of shaming people for being single, we now shame people for being partnered. Instead of criticizing emotional avoidance, we glorify it. Instead of asking whether a relationship is healthy, we assume it must be a liability.
And yes, some criticism is valid. Some people do lose themselves in relationships. Some people do abandon their friends, goals, and identity for a partner.
But assuming that every relationship requires self-erasure? That’s where the culture tips into something unhealthy.
The villain vs. the lovergirl
The internet is obsessed with the villain era: stop being nice, stop caring, stop people-pleasing, stop chasing. Have boundaries. Cut people off. Be ruthless about yourself.
For people who spent their lives over-giving, this can be incredibly liberating.
But for many, the villain era becomes performative. It turns into emotional armor. A way to prove you don’t need anyone. A way to preempt rejection by rejecting connection first.
If you’re someone who actually wants intimacy, partnership, or a shared life, you start to feel like you’re doing something wrong. Like you missed the memo that we’re all supposed to be cool, detached, and mildly allergic to commitment now.
Here’s the part that matters: wanting love is not weakness. Wanting partnership is not anti-feminist. Being in a relationship is not embarrassing.
What’s embarrassing is pretending you don’t care when you do. What’s exhausting is performing indifference to protect your ego.
When relationship shame is actually self-protection
Often, the shame isn’t really about the relationship. It’s about vulnerability.
Caring about someone means risking being hurt. Acting like you don’t care is a way to keep control. If you never fully invest, you never fully lose.
For people with anxious attachment, this push-pull can be especially intense. You crave closeness, then feel ashamed the moment you catch feelings. You oscillate between wanting intimacy and distancing yourself from it.
“I don’t even care that much” becomes a shield. It’s easier than admitting, “I’m scared you could leave.”
There’s also fear of judgment. What if this relationship fails? What if people say “I told you so”? What if you look foolish for trying?
So you keep it casual. You soft-launch. You don’t introduce them to your friends. You maintain plausible deniability.
But you can’t build real intimacy while keeping one foot out the door. You can’t experience connection while managing an image.
The cost of performing “chill”
One of the biggest casualties of modern dating culture is authenticity.
Everyone is trying to care less. Everyone is waiting longer to text back. Everyone is mirroring energy instead of expressing it. Everyone is terrified of being the one who feels first.
You end up with two people who like each other, both pretending they don’t.
This might protect your ego in the short term, but it erodes connection over time. Real relationships require vulnerability. They require risking being uncool. They require letting someone see you care.
You cannot build intimacy while acting as your own PR manager.
But what about bad relationships?
Yes. Some people are in relationships that are genuinely concerning. Some people tolerate disrespect, inconsistency, or emotional neglect because they’re afraid of being alone.
Those situations deserve honesty and accountability.
But there’s a difference between calling out unhealthy dynamics and shaming someone for wanting love in the first place.
The problem isn’t that someone wants partnership. The problem is when the partnership isn’t safe, mutual, or aligned.
You can want love and still have standards. You can value connection and still protect yourself.
The myth of the “perfect” single era
There’s a popular belief that you need to be completely healed, totally self-sufficient, and flawlessly independent before you’re allowed to want a relationship.
That idea sounds empowering, but it quietly turns love into a reward you have to earn.
Nobody is ever fully healed. Nobody is done growing. Relationships aren’t something you qualify for after enough self-work. They’re part of how humans learn, attach, and evolve.
The goal isn’t to become so independent that you don’t need anyone. The goal is to build a life that’s full enough that a relationship enhances it instead of consuming it.
When being in a relationship actually should give you pause
There are moments when discomfort is information.
If you’re hiding the relationship because you know your friends would point out red flags, pay attention.
If you’re constantly making excuses for their behavior, pay attention.
If you’ve abandoned your goals, friendships, or sense of self, pay attention.
That discomfort is intuition.
But embarrassment simply because you care? Because you want closeness? Because you’re not detached enough for the internet? That’s not intuition. That’s cultural shame.
How to tell the difference
Ask yourself:
Am I uncomfortable because this relationship is unhealthy, or because I’m afraid of being judged?
Do I feel embarrassed with them, or only when I imagine other people’s opinions?
Am I hiding this because it’s wrong for me, or because I’m afraid of wanting it?
If the embarrassment only appears in your imagination of other people’s reactions, that’s a clue.
Reclaiming relationship pride (without making it your personality)
You can be in a relationship without losing yourself. You can value partnership without outsourcing your identity.
Healthy relationships don’t erase individuality. They integrate it.
You’re allowed to want love. You’re allowed to say that out loud. You’re allowed to stop apologizing for being human.
The people who judge you for wanting connection are usually wrestling with their own fears around intimacy.
The bottom line
Having a partner is not embarrassing. Wanting love is not embarrassing. Caring is not embarrassing.
Performing indifference is exhausting. Judging others to feel superior is empty. Letting trends dictate what you’re allowed to want is limiting.
You can be independent and still want closeness. You can have boundaries and still be open. You can be self-aware and still choose partnership.
The goal isn’t to need no one.
The goal is to build a life where you’re the main character, and love is a supporting role that adds depth - not the entire plot.
If you’re happy in a relationship, stop apologizing for it.
If you’re single and want love, stop pretending you don’t.