The Architecture of Longing: Why We Must Question the Dictate of "One True Love"

Sitting comfortably in my city’s café, watching the people around me, I can’t help but ask myself: Is the image of "the one true love" nothing more than well-functioning, patriarchal propaganda?

You observe couples, overhear snippets of conversation about dating-app disappointments, and feel this subtle yet constant pressure hanging over our society: the assumption that life is only completed through a partner. That finding that one soulmate is the ultimate destination of our existence.

Just recently, I was traveling for work with a group of rather conservative women. We were talking about favorite movies, and naturally, classic romances came up—stories of great passion and achieving the "happy ending" in the form of marriage. When it was my turn and I didn't have a favorite romantic movie, I received quite a few incredulous looks. And in those looks was more than just astonishment at a film preference. It was irritation that a woman had not adapted the classic romance narrative as her personal script of longing. Anyone who rejects the romantic narrative is quickly written off as cynical, cold, or damaged. Or simply as someone who "can't get a partner." Yet this refusal is not a lack of feeling, empathy, or the desire for connection and closeness—it is a rejection of a structure that often takes more from us than it gives.

When even witches yield to the pressure of romance

Pop culture reveals just how deeply this narrative seeps even into spaces that should rightfully belong to female self-determination. Recently, the new Practical Magic movie hit the theaters. Full of anticipation, I watched the second installment because the first one had resonated so strongly with me back then—and then, unfortunately, I was utterly disappointed. None of the first movie's vibe was to be found, and the characters sadly showed no development whatsoever.

Practical Magic was always a movie about—yes, witches—but above all about sisterhood and self-determined women. In the second part, however, it is once again much more about men. Sally gets yet another new partner, because heaven forbid she remain on her own; her sister Gillian goes away empty-handed once again. And the daughters? Although it is re-emphasized that there is no stronger bond than sisterhood, the two are barely seen in a single scene together. While one daughter goes on an adventurous quest to save her boyfriend, the other sister—who, by the way, is lesbian in the book and thus the only family member who wouldn't even be subject to the curse—stays in the hospital with her sister's boyfriend and gets hardly any noteworthy scenes.

I won't even start on the sheer laziness of not bothering with magical symbolism and tradition in this movie; the "magic scenes" were simply cheaply executed. And I am genuinely sorry to say it so directly, because I love the world of the Owens sisters, and I think the actresses were chosen very fittingly—but well, there it is. By far the best part of the second installment was the two aunts, who remained true to themselves even in this film.

What happens here on a small scale is no rarity, but exemplary of the bigger picture: as soon as a narrative has the potential to place female bonds, deep trust among sisters, their own magic, and autonomy at the center, the pop-cultural correction kicks in. The collective is dismantled to make room for heteronormative salvation by or for the man, who then repeatedly forms a kind of center of the female universe.

The myth as a tool of isolation

Why is this pattern so persistent? Because, historically speaking, the idea of "the one true love" serves a dual function. On the one hand, it offers us stability in a chaotic world. On the other hand, it isolates us.

When the myth dictates that one single person must fulfill all our needs—best friend, passionate lover, economic partner, emotional anchor, and caregiver—the nuclear family or the couple relationship is declared the only legitimate bastion of happiness. This weakens women's circles, devalues chosen families, and pushes us into a dependency where our own boundaries and desires are often sacrificed for the sake of "love."

Of course, our society is complex, and there is more behind the concept of "the one true love" than just a bit of propaganda. This image has been engraved into our belief systems over centuries, making it feel like second nature to us.

It is interwoven with our deep, primal human longing to be seen, to experience intimacy and resonance. But the difference between genuine, equal connection on eye level and the romantic myth lies in agency: true love does not demand self-abandonment for a pre-written script. It requires two whole individuals who choose to create a shared space together—without either of them having to forget their own magic in the process.