Love is often imagined as resisting logic — a force that happens to us, emotional and unpredictable, rather than something we choose.

Today, love is increasingly shaped by systems that ask people to define preferences, filter options and evaluate potential partners — turning spontaneity into calculation.

This logic shapes not just how we meet, but how we imagine love. Streaming platforms deliver constant, personalized romance, setting standards that real relationships often struggle to meet.

Dan Lainer-Vos, an assistant teaching professor of sociology, framed love through the lens of “enchantment” and “disenchantment.”

“If we think about rationalization as turning life into a process of calculation and measurement, love is often imagined as the complete opposite,” Lainer-Vos said. “[Love is] something that happens to us, outside of our control, almost behind our back.”

For Angela Mvogo, a freshman majoring in communication, that tension is already visible in the way her peers navigate connection.

“We’re socialized to believe in certain archetypes of love … that don’t translate as well to real life,” Mvogo said. “It can be difficult to form genuine relationships because the expectations are so high, so you end up pushing away people who don’t meet a standard that’s unrealistic.”

Romantic media celebrates spontaneous, fated love, but in real life, love is shaped by choice and evaluation — what Lainer-Vos describes as a “rigorous search process” of comparing potential partners.

That contradiction is most visible in modern dating. Online, an endless pool of potential partners forces users to define what they want, accept and reject.

“If you don’t define these criteria, you don’t really operate the system,” Lainer-Vos said. “You’re not optimizing your search.”

Love has become a marketplace: people are products, endlessly compared rather than seen as unique — a shift from the traditional ideal of romantic love.

“We are sifting through multiple candidates and [comparing],” said Lainer-Vos. “Sometimes we learn about things that we like through those comparisons or things that we don’t like.”

In this environment, attraction is shaped over time, built from patterns rather than singular meaningful encounters. Lainer-Vos said, people become connoisseurs, learning what they like — and what they reject — through constant comparison.

Mvogo reflected on grappling with this comparative and formulaic journey to love in real life.

“It can feel more cerebral because you’re comparing yourself to [real] people … around your age,” Mvogo said. “The unrealistic expectations and pressure can become mounting at that point.”

At the same time, the content people consume is far from neutral. Just as people curate themselves on dating apps, social media has become another space where individuals carefully craft how they want to be seen.

Unlike everyday conversations, where presentation is flexible and fleeting, online profiles and posts are more stable and deliberate — a fixed version of self that others can view, evaluate and respond to. Creating an online profile requires conscious choices about how to present yourself, Lainer-Vos said.

“Essentially, if you build your own profile, you have to sit in many pictures of you and say, ‘I want the world to see me like that,’” Lainer-Vos said. “And you need to think about, ‘Okay, do I overemphasize being funny? Prioritize this? Why? How do I present myself?’”

This curation isn’t just theoretical. Maraella Khoo, a freshman majoring in music industry, manages social media for indie artists and has seen how creators carefully curate their public identities.

These efforts are designed to create a version of someone audiences can easily understand and connect with, highlighting their best moments while leaving out the messy realities.

“Every piece of their content is so curated and is designed to show their best moments. … It isn’t as authentic as it seems,” Khoo said. “With social media, I don’t think you can ever get the entire picture of what someone is like.”

And yet, the media we consume rarely reflects this reality. This gap between representation and experience can produce dissatisfaction. Real relationships, with their ambiguity and effort, struggle to compete with the clarity of fiction.

That same logic of curation isn’t just individual — it is embedded in the platforms themselves.

Algorithms intensify this dynamic, shaping not just what people see, but how they experience it. Platforms like Netflix and TikTok deliver rapid, personalized bursts of content, reinforcing ideals of romance and teaching what love “should” feel like.

The long-term effects of this personalization remain unclear, but it shapes expectations. Some viewers may seek intensity above all; others drawn to cynicism may approach love skeptically. Emotional expectations are shaped as much by curated media as by real experience.

Mvogo sees that tension reflected in how people’s real-life expectations are shaped by the media they consume.

“I’d hope love at first sight is real … but, people mistake love for lust or maybe infatuation,” Mvogo said. “You’re basically projecting all of these things you want in a partner onto this person before you’ve even had the chance to get to meet them and know them.”

Together, these systems don’t operate in isolation — they reinforce one another and shape how people seek, present and ultimately understand love.

Belief and behavior don’t always align. The systems guiding love impose a logic beyond the stories we consume, leaving modern romance caught between enchantment and realism — felt emotionally, processed rationally.

These pressures don’t remain abstract — they shape how people interpret their own relationships in real time.

Technology has only intensified that dynamic, reshaping not just expectations, but behavior.

“[Social media has] normalized this codependency, and relationships always needing to be available,” Mvogo said. “People feel they’re entitled to your time … and can easily create unhealthy relationship dynamics.”

Modern culture idealizes love as emotional and irrational, even as the pursuit of it becomes rationalized, Lainer-Vos said. Romantic media reflects this ideal — offering frictionless intimacy that can be paused, replayed or abandoned.

To consume love is easy; to live it is not.

“I think we are far enough that we are maybe completely disenchanted about love,” Lainer-Vos said. “And a lot of people just think that love is a rational fear, that love is some sort of meat market that we need to maximize utility, and there’s nothing more than that — which, I think, is very tragic.”