Relationship Anchors in a Sea of Situationships
Tuesday, June 24, 2025.
In a world where ambiguity is hot, what does it mean to be someone’s anchor?
Let’s be honest. We didn’t fall into situationships—we sprinted.
We told ourselves this was modern love: low-commitment, vibe-heavy, let’s-see-where-it-goes.
It's non-threatening. It's flexible. It's the human version of a late-stage beta release.
It also kind of sucks.
Recent studies confirm what most people already know deep in their gut: situationships are emotionally draining.
A 2023 report from Hinge Labs found that nearly 80% of young adults feel burned out by undefined relationships (Hinge Labs, 2023).
The very vagueness that promises freedom often delivers confusion, unmet needs, and a slow erosion of trust in ourselves and others.
This is not an upgrade. It’s a relationship with no steering wheel and no brakes.
Anchors: The Unsexy Antidote
The word “anchor” doesn’t trend on TikTok. But maybe it should.
An anchor, in the relational sense, is not codependent. It’s not controlling. It’s someone who shows up, stays present, and makes clarity a spiritual practice. They aren’t trying to keep you in place—they’re the reason you don’t drift out to sea.
From a psychological standpoint, we’re talking about secure attachment. As Mikulincer and Shaver (2016) write, secure romantic partners act as emotional co-regulators: they provide a “safe haven” in distress and a “secure base” from which to explore.
They don’t solve your problems—but they stand next to you while you do.
That kind of presence isn’t sexy on Instagram. But your nervous system knows the difference.
It calms down. You sleep better. You laugh more. You’re no longer spending your cognitive bandwidth decoding text messages written by someone who “isn’t looking for anything serious but really enjoys spending time with you.”
Why We Fell in Love with the Drift
It’s tempting to blame dating apps or hookup culture, but the pull toward ambiguous intimacy runs deeper. If you grew up in emotional inconsistency, the chaos of a situationship might feel familiar.
Excitement gets confused with anxiety. Safety with boredom.
Levine and Heller (2010) describe this dynamic as the “anxious-avoidant trap,” where one partner craves connection while fearing abandonment, and the other fears intimacy but can’t stand being alone. Situationships are an elegant architecture for this mutual misunderstanding.
They give you the illusion of closeness without the terror of true exposure. They're a simulation of connection—just enough to activate your attachment system, never enough to satisfy it.
As Adam Alter (2017) explains in his work on behavioral addiction, intermittent reinforcement is the most powerful behavioral hook there is.
Apps, texts, and “soft ghosting” behaviors activate the same neural loops as slot machines. Situationships thrive in that gray zone between hope and disappointment.
Anchors Are Built, Not Found
Anchors aren’t born. They’re practiced into being.
They:
State their intentions.
Make promises sparingly—and keep the ones they do.
Know how to self-regulate and co-regulate.
Are aware that love is not a feeling but a discipline of bestowed attention.
And here’s the secret: Anchors aren’t boring.
They’re profound. They make room for mutual risk-taking without emotional whiplash.
They don’t require a checklist of “green flags” because their presence is the green flag.
As Johnson (2019) emphasizes in emotionally focused therapy (EFT), couples in secure bonds thrive not because they avoid conflict, but because they know how to repair—they trust that rupture isn't the end of the story. Anchors lean into that trust. It’s not performative. It’s lived.
The Real Flex: Being Someone’s Anchor
The world won’t applaud you for becoming someone’s anchor.
You’ll probably get fewer likes.
You won’t make meme pages. But at 2am, when someone’s sick, grieving, tired, or scared, you’ll be the call they actually make.
Not the fantasy. Not the flirt. The anchor.
In therapy rooms, I see what’s left when the ambiguity burns out. my clients don’t say, “I wish I’d kept things more casual.”
They say, “I wish I’d chosen someone who chose me back.”
That’s not a hot take. But it’s probably the one that lasts.
Be Well, Stay Kind, and Godspeed.
REFERENCES:
Alter, A. (2017). Irresistible: The rise of addictive technology and the business of keeping us hooked. Penguin Press.
Hinge Labs. (2023). Modern Dating Report. [Internal study reported in media coverage; see Hinge’s blog and press releases].
Johnson, S. (2019). Attachment theory in practice: Emotionally focused therapy (EFT) with individuals, couples, and families. Guilford Press.
Levine, A., & Heller, R. (2010). Attached: The new science of adult attachment and how it can help you find – and keep – love. TarcherPerigee.
Mikulincer, M., & Shaver, P. R. (2016). Attachment in adulthood: Structure, dynamics, and change (2nd ed.). Guilford Press.