Can a girl be a hopless romantic?

Why is it so shocking for a woman to move in with her boyfriend before marriage, before a ring, before there is a confirmed future , yet when men do it, no one bats an eye? Why is the risk always stacked on our side, the questions always thrown at us, the ridicule always aimed at women as though we are naive for loving boldly, while men are applauded for “figuring life out” and “taking chances”?

What if he cheats on you? What if he dies? What if he decides he doesn’t want you anymore? What if he kicks you out? What if he never marries you? What if you can’t find a job? What if he turns out to be abusive? What if? What if? WHAT IF?

I don’t know. I don’t have all the answers. But when a man moves in with his girlfriend, no one stops him in his tracks to list out all the “what ifs.” No one warns him he’s wasting his youth. No one tells him he’ll be left with nothing if it fails. Men are allowed to try, to take chances, to learn as they go. Women are told we should know better, as if caution should come before joy, as if the right to love recklessly belongs only to men.

And here’s the deeper wound: women are expected to ask. We are expected to ask for permission, ask for advice, ask if it’s “wise,” ask if it will make sense years from now. We are told to weigh every possible outcome before we leap. Meanwhile, men just do. They make choices, they move in, they start over, they try again and society shrugs, because their freedom to choose is unquestioned. Women who move in with their boyfriends are interrogated, while men are left alone to live their lives.

And when I try to explain how I feel, I’m met with laughter as though love is something to laugh at, as though dreaming is foolish, as though faith is delusion. But here is my truth: I am madly in love. I prayed for him, I waited for him, and when we finally met I knew. He has only proven himself better than anything I ever dreamed.

He has never made me feel unsafe or unloved. With him, I have always felt protected, like he would do anything for me and keep me safe no matter what. I know people whisper their fears, that I’ll fall down the same path as my mother, but I have never once felt that way with him. He has only ever given me peace, care, and the kind of love that steadies you when the world is trying to shake you apart.

So when people say, “What if he breaks up with you someday? What if you wasted all those years?” I don’t see it that way. Love is never a waste. You cannot waste love. No matter what happens, I will never regret giving my heart to him. I pray for forever with him, I pray for marriage, I pray for a family, but even if it all burned down tomorrow, I would never see these days as wasted.

Because love, real love, is never irrelevant. Everyone says I’m crazy. Maybe I am. But I would rather be called crazy for loving than safe for doubting. I trust him. I trust the Lord. And I know with everything inside me, I love him more.

So why is it that when a man takes a leap, he is brave, but when a woman takes a leap, she is reckless? Why do men get to be adventurous while women are told to be cautious? Why do men get praised for chasing love while women get pitied for it? Why are our hearts treated like fragile, breakable things while men’s hearts are treated like badges of honor for daring to try? Why do people assume a woman’s love will destroy her, while a man’s love will make him stronger?

This is the double standard women carry: that our choices in love are judged heavier, our risks are scrutinized deeper, and our failures are remembered longer. A man can stumble, rebuild, and be applauded for his resilience. A woman stumbles once, and it becomes a cautionary tale for every other woman after her.

But I refuse to live my life under the weight of everyone else’s fear. My love is not a mistake waiting to happen. It is not a gamble gone wrong. It is not a reckless decision I will someday regret. My love is a choice, bold, intentional, sacred. And if men are allowed to take risks for love without ridicule, then so are we.