It started over dinner plans. I was in Chicago visiting my old college girl gang, and simultaneously I was considering moving back to the city. Drinks were flowing, and the conversation made me happy to be back in town with people I loved. A group of friends and I were gathered, buzzing about a new restaurant in town. You know the type: velvet booths, dim lighting, the kind of ambiance that makes every plate feel like a photo op. The food was rumored to be incredible, so naturally, I chimed in with a bit of excitement:
“We should totally go one evening!”
Cue the pause. Then came the response from one of my friends, delivered in the kind of casual tone that’s almost more jarring than intentional snark:
“Oh… well, it’s more of a date-night venue.”
It wasn’t just the words; it was the energy behind them that threw me. There was something about the way she said it that felt like a subtle jab, as though my suggestion—coming from a single woman—was inherently out of place. It dawned on me in that moment that this wasn’t just about a restaurant. For her, the idea of visiting such a space without a romantic partner was almost inconceivable. The girl who said it was Miss Popular, president of her sorority, with a fat rock on her finger, married to man that was hard to look at, OH! and she had always been fluent in the language of mean girl. Surprise, surprise.
And I’m not going to lie—my first instinct was to clap back with something slick, something like, “Well, your date night is my quick lunch. I forget you’re not used to places like that.” But I bit my tongue because deep down, I knew she didn’t mean harm, this was really just how she was. Yet, harm was done all the same, because what her comment revealed was a mindset I’ve grown increasingly frustrated with: the notion that certain experiences—good food, good ambiance, good life—are reserved for romantic partnerships.
When Romance Becomes the Center of Gravity
Let’s be clear: this isn’t about my friend, or even about that restaurant. It’s about a larger cultural mindset that continues to center women’s lives around romantic relationships. Somewhere along the way, we started equating personal worth with being chosen by a man, and as a result, women often prioritize romantic partnerships over everything else—including friendships.
This isn’t just frustrating; it’s limiting. When you start tying certain joys to the presence of a partner, you rob yourself of so many beautiful experiences. You end up waiting—waiting for the relationship, waiting for the validation, waiting for permission to live a full life.
It’s as if we’ve been trained to see romance as the only relationship worth nurturing. And the fallout is evident. I’ve seen so many women—smart, vibrant, incredible women—sideline their friendships the moment a new boyfriend enters the picture. Plans fall through, texts get shorter, and slowly but surely, the friendship becomes a placeholder rather than a pillar.
Why This Mindset Is Stifling
Take a step back, and the implications of this mindset are clear. By tying so much of our identity and our worth to romance, we’re stifling not just our friendships but ourselves.
It’s no secret that strong friendships are a source of joy, stability, and support in ways that romantic relationships often can’t replicate. They’re the ones who’ve seen you through your worst days, celebrated your best, and sat with you during the in-between.
But when women start reserving certain experiences—restaurants, concerts, even trips—for romantic relationships, it creates a hierarchy of value that’s both unnecessary and damaging. It subtly reinforces the idea that friendships are “less than,” when in reality, they’re just as vital, if not more so.
It’s Not Just About Restaurants
Of course, this isn’t really about restaurants. It’s about the way we frame our lives and our experiences. It’s about the insidious notion that some things are “better” with a man by your side. And it’s about how that framing diminishes the importance of sisterhood, of shared moments with the women who make your life richer and fuller.
The restaurant thing was just a microcosm of a much larger issue. Because when I think back, I realize this isn’t the first time I’ve felt the weight of that unspoken hierarchy. I’ve seen it in conversations about trips (“Oh, I’ll wait until I have someone to go with”), in hesitations about events (“I don’t want to be the only single one there”), and even in day-to-day decisions about how to spend time.
And while I get it—romantic relationships can be beautiful and fulfilling—they shouldn’t come at the expense of everything else.
Building a Full, Balanced Life
What I’ve come to realize is that the most fulfilling relationships—romantic or platonic—start with people who’ve learned how to build a meaningful life for themselves. That means saying yes to experiences, not waiting for someone to validate them. It means prioritizing the people who are already in your life, not sidelining them in anticipation of someone new.
I’ll be honest: I’ve had moments where I envied people in relationships. But then, I’d look a little closer and realize that some of those relationships came with compromises I wouldn’t be willing to make. And if those compromises were removed, would they still be together? Probably not. That’s when I understood something essential about myself: I don’t want a relationship that feels like a gift exchange, where the “gifts” are validation and status. I crave something real, something sturdy, something that adds to my life rather than reshaping it.
Friendship Matters, Too
This isn’t just about romantic relationships; it’s about friendships. It’s about valuing the women in your life and nurturing those connections with the same energy we so often reserve for partners. Because here’s the truth: romantic relationships may come and go, but friendships have the potential to last a lifetime.
And yet, so many of us treat friendships like second-tier relationships, forgetting how much joy and fulfillment they can bring. It’s sad, but it’s also something we can change—if we’re willing to reframe the way we see our lives and our priorities.
Redefining What Matters
So, the next time someone tells you a place or experience is “better” suited for couples, challenge that idea. Go anyway. Take your friends. Laugh too loudly. Order dessert. Reclaim those spaces, not as something to be shared only with a partner but as something you’re entitled to enjoy, period.
And while you’re at it? Book that reservation for the velvet booths. Let’s not wait for someone to “choose” us before we choose ourselves—and each other.
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