No, I Don’t Want to Fall in Love With You

Unlearning the Stories We’re Told About Love

Letting go flower

Love is everywhere. Not just in our lives, but in the stories we consume every day. Movies, songs, books—they all paint a picture of love as the ultimate destination. The endgame. The thing that makes everything else worth it. From the moment we’re old enough to understand a fairytale, we’re taught to believe in the grand, sweeping romance that changes everything.

But what if that’s not the story we need to follow?

For so long, I chased that kind of love. The kind that comes with fireworks, drama, and the promise that nothing else will ever feel this big. I thought love had to look a certain way: intense, overwhelming, all-consuming. And when it didn’t, I assumed it wasn’t love at all.

What I didn’t realise was how much these stories were shaping my expectations—how they were teaching me to want something I didn’t even know if I needed.

The Love We’re Taught to Want

We’re conditioned to believe that romantic love is the answer. That finding your “soulmate” will complete you. That the journey isn’t over until you’ve fallen into someone else’s arms and everything finally makes sense.

Think of the stories we grew up on:

• The princess is never whole until her prince arrives.

• The hero doesn’t find his true purpose until he rescues the damsel and wins her heart.

• The quirky best friend is just waiting for someone to see her as more than “just a friend.”

Even the endings that seem unconventional—the “I don’t need anyone” stories—still often hinge on the protagonist proving they’re finally ready for love once they’ve “found themselves.” The love story is still the prize, the reward, the happily-ever-after.

But that narrative can be suffocating. It tells us that being single is a problem to solve. That being happy on your own isn’t enough. That every meaningful relationship must build toward something greater, something permanent, something the world will recognise as “real.”

And yet, for so many of us, life doesn’t work that way.
Love isn’t always a thunderbolt from the sky.
It doesn’t always follow the script.
And maybe it doesn’t have to.

The Pressure to Perform Love

When you grow up surrounded by these stories, love starts to feel like a performance. You’re not just loving someone—you’re performing love in a way that fits what others expect.

You date, you flirt, you build a relationship, and somewhere along the way you find yourself questioning: Is this what love is supposed to feel like? Is this the “forever” kind of love I’ve been waiting for?

And when it isn’t—when it’s messy, uncertain, imperfect—you start to wonder if you’ve done something wrong.

• Am I choosing the wrong people?

• Am I not trying hard enough?

• Am I just incapable of feeling that big, overwhelming love everyone talks about?

The truth is, that “perfect” love doesn’t exist. It never did.
It’s a story. A beautiful, comforting, alluring story. But it’s not real life.

Unlearning the Myth of “Happily Ever After”

Unlearning these stories takes time. It’s not easy to let go of a narrative that’s been drilled into us from childhood. But as I’ve stepped back and looked more closely, I’ve realized that the most profound connections in my life often didn’t fit that mold.

Some of my most important relationships have been fleeting, unconventional, or hard to define. They didn’t come with a grand “I love you” moment or a neatly wrapped ending. But they mattered just as much—sometimes more.

What I’ve come to understand is that love doesn’t have to follow a script. It doesn’t have to be what the movies say it is. Love can be subtle, quiet, messy, and incomplete. It can be a friendship that’s as deep as any romance. It can be the bond you share with someone who never once called you “mine,” but who still made your life richer.

What’s Left When We Let Go of the Old Stories

Once you start unlearning, it’s not just about rejecting the old story—it’s about discovering what’s left when you stop performing love.

What happens when love becomes about the small, real, everyday moments?

• The friend who shows up without needing to be asked.

• The family member who loves you despite your mistakes.

• The stranger whose kindness lingers in your mind long after they’ve gone.

These moments might not make a grand romance, but they’re love all the same. They’re the foundation of a life that feels whole and connected, without the need for a storybook ending.

A New Narrative

I don’t want to fall in love with you—not in the way I was taught to. Because that kind of love often feels too narrow, too confining. I want connection that isn’t dictated by the expectations of a storybook ending. I want love that’s allowed to evolve, to change, to exist without needing to fit a certain shape.

It’s not about rejecting love entirely. It’s about unlearning the idea that love has to be one thing, and one thing only. When we let go of the need for the “happily ever after,” we open ourselves up to all the other ways love can show up in our lives.

And maybe that’s where the real love story begins.