In 2025, having a boyfriend became embarrassing (according to Vogue, at least). In its place, friendships are receiving the kind of long-term intention once reserved exclusively for romantic partners: friends are living or buying homes together, opening joint bank accounts and throwing platonic wedding ceremonies to formalise their commitment. No one wants to see your cheesy hard launch or romantic weekend upstate on Instagram anymore. But your girls’ trip? By all means.
Unsurprisingly, this cultural reckoning has made its way into the celebrity world too. Ariana Grande and Cynthia Erivo’s unsettlingly close—and undeniably bold—bond throughout the Wicked press tour has become its own cultural phenomenon, complete with headlines, memes and dating rumors. And while a few sitcoms like Sex and the City have celebrated the importance of friendship for decades, there seems to be a growing appetite for storylines that take platonic love seriously—evident in the new wave of shows like Dying for Sex, Platonic and Overcompensating.
Taken together, these emerging trends are forcing us to reconsider a fundamental assumption: What does it truly mean to be a partner—and who deserves that title?
These days, we hear partner and think romantic. But the term was once primarily used in business contexts, says Andrea Bonior, PhD, licensed clinical psychologist and author of The Friendship Fix. It was a label that formalised a dynamic rooted in shared responsibility, mutual stakes and reliable collaboration—all qualities that could just as easily describe the healthiest romantic relationships. And that’s exactly what happened: For LGBTQ+ couples who were denied the right to legally marry, partner became a way to name and claim the same lifelong devotion. Eventually, relationships across the sexuality spectrum caught on: These days, partner is universally understood as being meaningfully equivalent to “spouse.” But if, at its core, partnership is about mutual care, support and shared investment, why have we assumed for so long that those things only belong to romance?
It’s a narrative people are beginning to challenge in a movement some call relationship anarchy, influenced in part by the emotional fallout of the pandemic and the loneliness it amplified, says Kimberly Horn, EdD, MSW, psychologist and author of Friends Matter, for Life: Harnessing the 8 Tenets of Dynamic Friendship. Being cooped up with a partner (no matter how attentive, loving and sweet) made clear just how unrealistic it is for any one person to meet all of our emotional needs. For many, it was a wake-up call to the long-underestimated importance of a wider social circle.
There’s also a practical economic reality to consider. The housing crisis and cost-of-living increases have put singles, in particular, at a distinct disadvantage, according to Dr. Horn. While married couples at least have access to certain legal and financial structures—tax benefits, dual income—unmarried people have to get creative to achieve the same stability. As a result, “economic pressures are pushing more people toward co-housing or sharing finances with friends,” Dr. Horn says, though these arrangements aren’t just rooted in convenience: They also represent a growing recognition that perhaps major life decisions—who to buy a home with, rely on in emergencies or plan families with—doesn’t need to be reserved for a spouse simply because tradition says so.
