We Filmed the Date and Missed the Point

A Russian couple recently made headlines after climbing the antenna of the Empire State Building, over 1,400 feet above New York City. God knows what point they were trying to make because their message was so vague that Trump didn't even react to it, and he reacts to everything! I think the whole charade was to stage a proposal. They unfurled a banner celebrating "the power of love," filmed the entire spectacle and, instead of beginning their engagement with champagne and congratulations, ended the day in police custody.

The internet did what it does best. Some called it romantic. Others called it reckless. I just couldn't say, I'm Switzerland because I couldn't stop asking a different question.

When did love become a performance?

Not long ago, proposals were intimate moments shared between two people. Today, they're carefully choreographed productions with drone shots, multiple camera angles and a social media strategy waiting to go live before the ring even settles on a finger.

It's no longer enough to fall in love. Now, it has to be watchable. And it amuses me to the next level! 

The Rise of Performative Romance

Open Instagram or TikTok, and you'll find yourself drowning in Date With Me videos.

1. There's the outfit reveal. The café aesthetic. 
2. The slow-motion coffee pour. 
3. The hand-holding shot. 
4. The perfectly timed laugh. 
5. The kiss captured from across the street as if someone just happened to be standing there with a professional camera.

I was baffled to learn there is literally a checklist before the date even starts! The final reel lasts sixty seconds.

I often wonder how many hours went into creating it. Because here's the thing no one talks about.

Every retake takes time.

Every camera setup takes time.

Every edit takes time.

Every caption takes time.

Time is the single most valuable investment in a relationship. So, if you're spending more time creating content about your relationship than actually nurturing it, what exactly are you building?

A relationship or a brand? And who exactly is your audience? What exactly are you getting out of commercialising personal moments? 

Love Doesn't Need an Audience

I'm not against documenting memories. I take photos too. I love looking back at old trips, birthdays and random afternoons that somehow became unforgettable. Photos preserve memories. They become dangerous only when they start replacing them.

But there's a subtle difference between capturing a moment and creating one purely because it'll look good online. The first happens naturally. The second is performance.

We've started choosing cafés because they'll look aesthetic on Instagram. Planning dates around locations that photograph well. Waiting for food to get cold because the overhead shot isn't perfect. Repeating spontaneous moments because someone forgot to hit record.

At some point, the camera quietly becomes the third person on the date. And suddenly, you're no longer trying to impress your partner. You're trying to impress strangers.

The Algorithm Doesn't Reward Healthy Relationships

Social media rewards visibility. Not depth. 

The algorithm doesn't know if your partner feels emotionally safe with you. It doesn't know if you remembered the difficult conversation they had at work. It doesn't know if you stayed by their side when life became inconvenient.

All it sees is a beautiful proposal. A surprise vacation. Matching outfits. A sunset kiss.

It rewards what can be seen. Not what can be felt. The problem is that we slowly begin chasing the reward. Not because we're shallow. Because we're human.

When grand gestures receive millions of views while quiet consistency receives none, it's easy to confuse attention with affection.

A Proposal Is a Moment. A Relationship Is Everything After It!

The Empire State Building proposal made headlines because it was dramatic. It was risky. It was cinematic.

But none of those things tells me if it'll become a good marriage. Because a proposal doesn't build a relationship. It announces one.

The real work begins afterwards. When the cameras disappear. When there are no comments to read. No viral clips to share. No audience waiting for the next update. That's where relationships are built.

Not on rooftops. But around dinner tables. During difficult conversations. On ordinary Tuesday evenings. While grocery shopping. While apologising after an argument. While sitting together in complete silence without feeling the need to fill it. None of those moments are glamorous. They're simply necessary.

Then I Thought About Dashrath Manjhi

Whenever conversations about grand gestures come up, one story always comes back to me.

Dashrath Manjhi. A man who spent twenty-two years cutting through a mountain after losing his wife because there wasn't a road to get her to the hospital in time.

People laughed at him. Called him mad. Told him it was impossible.

He kept going anyway. Not because someone was watching. Not because cameras were documenting his journey. Not because he wanted the world to applaud him. He did it because love, to him, wasn't an event.

It was a responsibility. It was action. It was a commitment long after the moment that broke his heart.

That's what separates his story from so many modern displays of romance. He wasn't trying to create a memorable moment. He was trying to solve a problem.

One love story asked the world to look. The other quietly changed the world.

We've Confused Performing Love With Practising It

Maybe that's what bothers me about today's dating culture. We've become experts at performing love. We know how to surprise our partners with balloons, flowers and candlelit dinners. We know how to frame the perfect shot. We know which trending audio fits a romantic reel.

But do we know how to listen?

Do we know how to stay when things become difficult?

Do we know how to disagree respectfully?

Do we know how to grow together when there isn't an audience cheering us on?

Because that's where relationships either survive or fall apart. Not during the proposal. Not during the anniversary post. Not during the viral reel. But in the thousands of invisible moments no one else will ever see.

We Filmed the Date and Missed the Point

Maybe the biggest tragedy isn't that we've started filming our relationships. It's that we've started believing the performance is the relationship. Love isn't measured by how many people witness it. It's measured by how consistently you choose someone when nobody else is watching. 

Years from now, your partner won't remember whether your proposal had drone footage. They won't remember how many views your Date With Me reel received. They won't remember whether your anniversary post made it to everyone's Explore page.

They'll remember whether you were present.

Whether you listened.

Whether you showed up.

Whether you built something worth remembering after the cameras stopped rolling.

So go ahead and take the photo. Record the sunset. Capture the memory.

Just don't spend so much time creating a beautiful story for the internet that you forget to build a beautiful relationship in real life. Because love has never needed an audience. Only two people are willing to keep choosing each other long after the applause fades.

Until next time, live intentionally and love expressively!

XOXO

The Queen of Random Things