Is having a boyfriend embarrassing now? Not as much as we think

Every week, PhilSTAR L!fe explores issues and topics from the perspectives of different age groups, encouraging healthy but meaningful conversations on why they matter. This is Generations by our Gen Z columnist Angel Martinez.

In the spirit of Carrie Bradshaw, Vogue UK recently proclaimed that having a boyfriend is officially embarrassing.

Women are hiding their partners online, reducing them to soft launches and confining them to Close Friends rather than putting them front and center on their feeds. Those who didn’t get the memo risk getting muted or unfollowed, or labeled as boy-crazy, totally devoid of a personality. Social media etiquette points to a greater shift in the dominant cultural narrative: As single women now reclaim and romanticize their fate, we’ve collectively decided that we need not be in a couple to be complete.

Naturally, as a certified NBSB, several people sent the piece over as soon as it came out. Whether it was to ask for my opinion or to offer solace, I’m not entirely sure, but I’ve had mixed feelings about it since its release. On the one hand, I do agree: We should be capable of standing outside the shadow of any man. Even those in relationships should try not to be just a girlfriend—someone who prioritizes their partner above all—but rather, a girl with a boyfriend, among many other life-enriching things.

Personally, I feel like I’ve built an identity solid enough to remain unshaken by a prospective partner. I have a career I am very proud of. I have parents and friends who would do anything for me. I take myself wherever I please, buy whatever I can, and know exactly what I want. “Before, being single meant that there’s something wrong with you. But many Filipinas now choose to build their character and attain stability before entering a relationship,” science-based relationship coach Vanessa Antonio tells PhilSTAR L!fe.

Looking at the big picture, we also have the alarming emergence of the manosphere: a documented movement promoting hatred against women. Even those who claim to be the good ones are not safe. And when boyfriends are exposed for sinister reasons, it’s still the girls that picked them who take the blame. “Gen Z is very aware of social commentary and online surveillance. They know that humans make judgments very quickly, so there’s this fear of being compared or humiliated if the relationship fails,” Antonio elaborates.

With this, it’s best to keep our relationships under wraps. Antonio points out how this is in line with Filipino culture, where privacy is sometimes a defense mechanism. “Hiding doesn’t always mean shame; sometimes, it’s safeguarding emotional peace.” The article also takes it a step further, suggesting that single life is now a “coveted status” anyway, more of a flex than anything else. Perhaps we might resist the urge to be with someone at all.

Oh, how I wish the conversation surrounding singlehood was that simple. Though we’re riding the fourth wave of feminism—defined by championing intersectionality, breaking generational patterns, and ridding ourselves of the burden of emotional labor—it’s difficult to feel secure in my individuality if I’m still bogged down by societal expectations.

Family members still routinely ask me if I’m ever bringing a significant other to the function. Well-meaning friends have told me “It’ll come to you when you least expect it” more times than is socially acceptable. A college batchmate once told me to my face she’d rather stay in her current situationship with a guy who didn’t care if she lived or died, than be single. Another ended a supposedly sweet birthday message to me by saying that I’d honestly be perfect if only I could find a special someone. Sayang daw.

I try my best not to take it personally, especially because we were all subject to the same mental conditioning growing up. We were raised on the idea that romance is the highest affirmation of our external beauty and internal worth; that achieving traditional milestones like marriage and family life is where all our roadmaps lead. We prize and prioritize companionship, to the point where anyone spotted eating alone in a public place is easily seen as an object of pity. (Been there, too.)

Modern algorithms reinforce this way of thinking too, as stated in one of my favorite Substack articles of all time: “TikTok content is memetic: When something performs well, people jump on the bandwagon and trends are born. But as someone with two degrees in sociology, I shudder a bit when I see the types of content that break through. It’s another to watch every trend boil down to: Look at this man. Look at me standing near this man. Look at my man. My man, my man, my man.”

Extending past Gen Z, Philippine society has always functioned as a “pronatalist and highly familistic” group, where the ideal is to marry at some point and have children immediately after. Previous studies have highlighted experiences of Filipino Single Elderly Women (FSEW) who regretted choosing to be single: Some were ridiculed by married peers or discouraged from joining certain groups and organizations.

Most alarmingly of all, by the time those around us have all shacked up or settled down, we are expected to fend for ourselves and stave off feelings of loneliness whichever way we can. We are not anyone’s responsibility. Even some of our institutions remain biased against those who are single, with various advantages for couples and families, ranging from higher tax benefits to special allowances within the workplace.

So unless we change these conditions we operate under—unless we change the ways we speak of singlehood to single people—it will be impossible to just shrug off any insensitive comments and feel real, resounding empowerment.

Deep inside, I feel like I will always be influenced and maybe incentivized to desire romantic love. It might not be what a “girlboss” like me is expected to do. Sometimes, it’s like I’ve failed at feminism, like it’s an entry-level college course, but I’d like to think it’s more normal than we make it seem.

One thing I’ve learned from being single since forever is that conversations about my civil status are always viewed in extremes. We’re either hyper-independent manhaters, or driven to the point of depression—and it’s a litmus test I’ve witnessed again with the virality of the aforementioned Vogue article. But they never have to be. Unpartnered life, like everything else, is rife with complexities and contradictions.

Allow me to conclude this with an excerpt of my favorite book of all time, Arrangements in Blue by Amy Key, who articulates this push-and-pull better than I ever can: “Plenitude of one love doesn’t reduce the pain or longing for a type of love you want but don’t have. But I know that longing for something doesn’t mean life can’t be good without it.”

Generations by Angel Martinez appears weekly at PhilSTAR L!fe.