Love at the End of the World
“Love’s in need of love today.” —Stevie Wonder
For the last three years, I’ve had one eye on socials and one hand in the tender guts of real relationship work. I’m a couples therapist. I sit front-row to the aching, holy mess of people trying to make love work—and I fall in love with each couple again and again. I’ve watched the way they fight for each other, how they unlearn the myths, how they heal what was broken before they even met. It’s gritty, sacred work
I’ve also been watching the rise of bite-sized love advice—slogans dressed up as wisdom, one-liners masquerading as full truths. These little phrases strut across our feeds in bold fonts:
“Protect your peace.”
“If he wanted to, he would.”
“Know your worth and add tax.”
Catchy and even resonating with something deep. A longing. An ache.
I see people coming into sessions holding these quotes like swords or shields. And I get it. When you’re heart-weary, any armor feels like salvation. But these aren’t tools for intimacy—they’re protective strategies used when we’ve become too afraid to be vulnerable and soft-bellied in love.
“Protect your peace.”
Beautiful advice. But if you’re building a life with another human being, expect the peace to be disturbed. Love will shake the room. It’s finding your way back again and again that creates true security.
“If he wanted to, he would.”
Maybe. Or maybe he’s frozen in shame. Maybe she’s flooded with trauma. Maybe they’re scared shitless because intimacy is a wild animal, and we were never taught how to hold it.
“Know your worth and add tax.”
Sure. And even the person who ghosted you—yes, even the so-called fuckboy—deserves love. Not your love, but from someone, somewhere. Because we all deserve love, it’s our responsibility to take our precious selves out of the hands of those who cannot cherish us. (And trust me, I know, this is easier said than done).
Yes, each piece of advice carries a kernel of truth and steeped in its relational complexities, it’s grounded in a shit ton of wisdom. But these bite-sized truths, these meme-ready lines—they rarely hold up in the real, messy terrain of a relationship. They’ve been distilled down so far, they’ve lost their soul. What’s left is a performance of boundaries without the practice of connection.
“In intimacy,” Esther Perel says, “we are always moving from connection, to disconnection, and back again.”
But many of us no longer tolerate disconnection. We pathologize space. We’re so terrified of the void that we run before repair even becomes an option. Averse to sitting in the discomfort of the in-between.
We expect relationships to be soothing, safe, and always giving. Our expectations of love have never been higher—and they are blooming in a time of great relational distress. We’re navigating the deep gender divide, an overuse of attachment theory and narcissism rhetoric, all while swimming in a climate of polycrisis. We’re getting pulled in by the tides of patriarchy, consumerism, capitalism and climate crisis. The result? We’re hungrier than ever.
And now, AI experts are suggesting that artificial partners might cure the loneliness epidemic. When I hear this, my heart drops. My soul cringes. I don’t care how close to human an AI “lover” becomes, our spirits will know the difference. Your nervous system will know. Your body will know. This is not real. This is not us. This is not love.
We are animals.
We are born for the shaky breath of someone beside us.
For the arms of another. The imperfect love of another. This is how we evolved. This is what makes us human.
“To love well is the task in all meaningful relationships,” writes bell hooks.
And it is a task. It’s a phenomenal practice that we must hone every day.
Not a vibe. Not a quote.
It’s a choice to stay when your whole body wants to run, plead or even attack
It’s the sacred art of rupture and repair.
It’s the fight for love at the end of the world.
I believe we’re standing on the edge of an evolutionary shift—but we must fight to protect love. To embolden human connection.
We need to get off our phones and into community. We need to reclaim awkward first dates, hard conversations, imperfect sex, vulnerable truths, and gritty, humbling returns to connection again.
We must fight for each other.