Love without entitlement
My approach to relationship anarchy
I am a relationship anarchist.
I have two people I call partners alongside affectionate friendships and other relationships that do not fit neatly into standard societal boxes. If I were to try to describe my life and relationships using the traditional relationship escalator, none of the standard labels would apply well.
Some people look at relationship anarchy (RA) from the outside and claim it is an excuse to avoid responsibility or commitment. In practice, I see it as the exact opposite. It means building connections based on active, intentional choices rather than relying on default societal scripts.
The concept of relationship anarchy is not new, and many of the foundational ideas in this piece have been mapped out by others (for example, in Andi Nordgren’s instructional manifesto for relationship anarchy). My aim here is to describe the underlying concepts that drive how I personally approach relating to others and the reality of what relationship anarchy looks like in my day-to-day life.
Because there is too much ground to cover in one post, you will see bracketed placeholders throughout this piece pointing to topics I plan to tackle later. Over time, I look forward to diving into these specific areas with much more depth and personal context.
[Future topics: addressing relationship anarchy myths, labels are hard, how the Anarchy in RA is weaponized to excuse inconsiderate behavior (and how to spot it)]
Dismantling the defaults
Love without entitlement
At the foundation of my relationship approach is a rejection of the idea that relationships should be ranked prescriptively.
Being anti-hierarchy does not mean I lack deep commitments. Currently, I have two people in my life that I refer to as “partners.” We communicate almost daily and are heavily woven into each other’s lives. I am also casually dating other people and I am open to exploring additional connections that may naturally arise).
Someone might say “hold on… if you are more closely connected to some people you’re dating than others, isn’t that a hierarchy!??”
There’s an important distinction to be made here between our current reality and the rules we try to impose on the future. Descriptive reality is what is happening. It is a relationship’s current circumstances, like how much time two people spend together or how intertwined their daily lives are right now. It’s a description of the current shape of the connection. And that description can, and likely will, change over time as the people in that relationship evolve.
Prescriptive hierarchy, on the other hand, is a rule. It’s the idea that one relationship must always come first, and that it has inherent power over other relationships.
Designating a primary partner would put an artificial cap on the potential of every other connection. It applies a “first come, first serve” mentality to human connection, as if the person who got to someone earliest owns a permanent stake in their future as well as priority rights.
It’s also worth noting that removing prescriptive hierarchy does not mean forcing equality across all relationships. Because each relationship connection is distinct, the amount you naturally overlap with one person will be different from how you (or they) naturally overlap with someone else.
I strive to keep my relationships free of any prescriptive expectations saying we are entitled to our connection staying exactly that way forever. Rather, our connection is something we both continually contribute to and opt into.
Letting go of the idea that we are entitled to a particular place in our partners’ future creates space for each of us to continue to evolve as people, and for the shape of our connection to shift naturally alongside us. When we stop trying to control the natural evolution of our connections, we are more accepting of what the other people in our relationships are interested and capable of offering as it changes over time. We are also more capable of cherishing the present.
[Future topics: veto power and gate-keeping, unintentional unethical hierarchy dynamics]
Romance-friendship parity and relationship spectrums
Our society conditions us to force every connection into one of two distinct boxes: “just friends” or “dating.” This creates a rigid binary where connections are either on the escalator toward a traditional partnership, or they are treated as less important.
Platonic connections can be just as central, committed, and profound as romantic ones. When we stop reserving our highest levels of communication, intention, and care exclusively for people we are romantic with, we open ourselves up to more possibilities and a much richer support system.
I try to approach new connections without expectation of where they will land and without forcing them into a predefined category. This is where the “anarchy” comes in: dismantling default relationship scripts in favor of intentional design.
Instead of a single line between friendship and romance, my approach to relationship anarchy views human connection as existing across dozens of different spectrums. Where do I land with someone on a sexual spectrum? Where are we on the romantic spectrum? What about a life-planning spectrum?
Instead of finding the perfect label, I prefer to use a few descriptive sentences to outline what a relationship actually is. Trying to force a living connection into a neat box usually creates unnecessary friction. We end up prioritizing the box over the connection itself.
That being said, I still use the label “partner” as a linguistic shorthand for external conciseness and clarity, even while knowing it is too small to contain the full descriptive reality. You will notice I also use the word “partner” throughout this post. The label itself isn’t important; feel free to replace it in your head with whatever label you like!
[Future topics: what is romance anyways?, The spectrums of human connection, the rewards of a friendship-first approach]
Building a communal web of relationships
The end result is a communal web of relationships. When we refrain from funneling every need into one person or prescribing what each and every person in our lives will mean to us, we build a life that is fundamentally more resilient.
The standard relationship script dictates that we find a romantic partner, move in together, and allow them to default into becoming our primary source of domestic and social support. Our sense of emotional worth would come primarily from that central romantic relationship, creating a huge amount of dependence on that specific connection. If we look at the prescriptive hierarchy from that perspective, it’s easy to see how this model of relying heavily on one person creates a fragile system. It turns a romantic relationship into a single point of failure.
As we move toward anarchy by opting into a variety of connections across various relational spectrums, we replace prescriptive obligations with organic community and support. We stop demanding that one partner bear the weight of our entire emotional world, and instead allow a diverse network of people to show up for us exactly as they are capable.
Tools that make it all work
Saying the quiet parts out loud, especially when it’s hard
Existing in a space without prescriptive rules requires a willingness to state desires explicitly and boundaries out loud. If our level of closeness is to be dictated by who we are and what we value, we have to have a means of sharing that. A commitment to transparency and direct communication is required.
Honesty isn’t just a prerequisite for relationship anarchy. Without a baseline of honesty, we cannot be truly close to someone, regardless of the relationship style. Without a commitment to the truth, partners end up with a false foundation built on assumptions, projection, and incomplete information. It can also lead to a situation where people are walking on eggshells rather than communicating honestly.
But in RA configurations, honesty is especially important because there is no default script or relationship escalator to fall back on. When we remove prescriptive obligations, the connection survives entirely on the organic overlap of what we both actively want and have the capacity to give. If we are not radically honest about what those wants and capacities are, we end up building a connection with a fictional version of each other.
I heavily prioritize clarity over comfort. When someone tells me what they assume I want to hear instead of the truth, they are actively denying me the one thing I actually desire: the reality of the situation. I want the truth, even if it is uncomfortable or difficult for me to hear.
Unfortunately, this is not how most people behave. It is quite common to make decisions for the other person about whether or not they can handle the truth. We can sometimes assume that because honesty might make someone feel bad, it is better to withhold it.
For many, this practice requires actively reprogramming one’s brain to view hard truths as a positive thing rather than a threat. This can take work, but the alternative is committing to a fantasy. When you welcome the uncomfortable truth, you stop wasting energy managing illusions and restore your agency to make decisions based on honest reality.
[Future topics: Valuing truth over comfort, frictions vs fights / working through conflicts as collaborations, more on direct communication]
Values-aligned action over emotional reactivity
If we want to navigate relationships without relying on default scripts, developing emotional intelligence, and the ability to recognize the disparity between our immediate feelings and our logical thoughts, is a requirement.
I have been in the position before where I felt very intense anxiety and insecurity relating to a partner dating someone new. One example was during a time where I was depressed, burnt out, and pretty anxious in general. And that anxiety seemed to spill over everything, including my partner’s new connections.
An “easy out” here, and I think a way out that unfortunately many choose, would have been to ask for that partner to stop seeing the new person; however, I also knew that would have completely misaligned with my values and what the rational me wanted. Additionally, I knew that by pulling that ripcord, I would have robbed myself of the chance to examine my own insecurities, sit with the friction, and build my emotional resilience.
The reality is that sometimes feelings just feel bad. It is a vital relationship skill to understand the difference between a feeling simply hurting and a feeling indicating that something is actively wrong.
When in the thick of a panic response, it is easy to let anxiety dictate our actions. But if we have a clear sense of what our values are and how we want to show up, we can use those values as an anchor. Instead of requiring a partner to manage our emotional discomfort, we can choose to acknowledge the gap between our feelings and our values / logic.
In summary, the following things are extremely important for building connections rooted in autonomy: clarity about our values, a willingness to take note of when our emotions misalign with those values, and a genuine interest in growing through the discomfort that we feel when that misalignment happens. At the same time, we must be careful not to intellectualize away the emotions that are actually trying to protect us. If a feeling arises in response to a direct boundary violation, it is an alarm bell, not a growing pain. This practice is a diagnostic tool to check our internal alignment, not a mandate to ignore legitimate harm.
[Future topic: Gremlin thoughts: how to share emotions that contradict your values]
Assessing the overlap and opting in
Using the lens of honesty, I think about every connection as a Venn diagram. One circle encompasses my life, and the other belongs to the person I am relating to. The question is: where do those circles overlap?
The overlap is determined by finding that honest shared space. How do we both actually want to relate? What do we both have the capacity for? Where do we want to live? If one person has an interest in moving into a shared community house, but the other needs their own apartment to recharge, that’s not in the overlap. And that’s ok!
Finding this overlap requires us to communicate our needs and boundaries. And it is important for us to share these with our partner, as they will not necessarily intuit them. These are not default obligations inherited from a relationship label. They are specific requests. Either the other person is able and willing to meet the needs and hold the boundaries, or they are not. If they are not, then there may be particular types of relationships that are not available between those two people.
We must also be careful not to index too far on the comfort of others while searching for this overlap. If we constantly accommodate someone else’s anxieties or bend our own boundaries in order to keep the peace, we are no longer finding an honest overlap. We are simply masking a fundamental incompatibility and prolonging a dynamic that does not actually work.
[Future topics: the different types of “want”, needs vs wants, boundaries vs rules, an exploration of my needs within committed romantic relationships]
It’s got to be optional
At the core of this opt-in ethos is that each connection has got to be optional. When my partners and I are not trapped by the invisible scripts and obligations that usually come attached to labels, we stay because we want to be there. That makes staying infinitely more meaningful.
For example, I might think towards a partner: I love you, and I deeply like you, but I do not need you to fill a preconceived space or play a specific role in my life. And what I want is to find the connection that feels good for both of us. I want connections fed by a real desire to be there, not by anyone showing up strictly out of obligation.
In our culture, we are often taught that needing someone (being “incomplete” without them) is the highest form of romance. However, this sentiment turns people into need-meeting machines. If my ability to function or feel stable relies on a specific partner, then my choice to be with them is not fully free. It is a requirement for my own stability. It also creates an ultimatum and an obligation on the other person to maintain the connection as it is, or else I will fall apart. By removing “need” from the foundation, the chosen overlap (the “want”) becomes much more powerful. When a “no” is an option, the “yeses” mean so much more.
This does not mean we operate without care or that we cannot rely on our partners during hard times. It means our connections are built on active choices rather than desperate requirements.
Wanting to share your daily life with someone is fundamentally different from owing them your default availability or them owing you theirs. It is not about being uncommitted. It is about commitment that is 100% authentic, present, and chosen by both parties.
[Future topics: loving fully without grasping at outcomes, scarcity vs abundance mindset, the fellow travelers approach to the future, approaches to bringing up concerns, adjusting relationships without ending them]
Final thoughts
At its heart, this approach to relating is not about avoiding the hard work of deep connection. In fact, I feel that Relationship Anarchy allows for more robust versions of commitment because it is built on intentional choice rather than a script. By refusing to force connections into a predefined box, we build something far more stable: dynamics with the room to become exactly what works best for all involved, even when finding that overlap takes effort.