I want to write a romance that emphasizes non-sexual romantic love

I write romance best when I have references to draw from. It’s hard for me to invent a compelling love story in isolation. I need scenes, examples, and real-life gestures to help me assemble meaningful moments. I often borrow inspiration from genuine acts of affection and adapt them into fiction. I’ve done this before—for example, in my Megamind Rules fan project, which I originally intended as a pitch for the actual show. I portrayed Megamind and Roxanne as a tender, devoted couple, crafting intimate, wholesome scenes that emphasized closeness and emotional warmth. I structured it as a screenplay because I hoped to submit it professionally.

Another approach that helps me write romance is focusing on deep emotional attachment rather than physical desire. I believe there’s a difference between loving someone and merely lusting after them. A common modern narrative suggests that being “in love” is purely sexual, but historically, romance centered on affection, devotion, and emotional intimacy. Relationships weren’t defined solely by physical attraction; they involved admiration, loyalty, and heartfelt connection.

That’s one reason I appreciate children’s media. Many American family films introduce romantic love instead of sexual themes, allowing young audiences to understand affection as something gentle and meaningful rather than purely sexual. As young as 5, I learned there were many forms of love—romantic, familial, platonic, sibling, and even grandparental love. Television helped me recognize these distinctions by portraying bonds that weren’t driven by sexual desire.

In Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs, I never interpreted the story as promoting female submissiveness. As a child, I simply saw a character in danger and someone who cared enough to rescue her. I understood it as devotion, not ideology. I enjoyed the fantasy and the sweetness without extracting social messaging that adults often project onto it.

I’m drawn to non-sexual romance films because they highlight emotional commitment without relying on innuendo. That clarity helped me later understand orientations such as heteroromantic asexuality and aromantic heterosexuality—distinctions between romantic attraction and sexual desire. Seeing love portrayed without sensual undertones made it easier to grasp that romantic affection and sexual physical attraction are not identical experiences.

In my own stories, I want to emphasize profound emotional love. For instance, I wrote a scene where a man is ordered to kill his partner but refuses. He explains that his feelings aren’t superficial—he genuinely loves her. In many adult narratives, women are dismissed or objectified, and heartbreak is reduced to wounded pride or lost intimacy. Yet many men truly cherish their wives or romantic partners. Their attachment includes companionship, admiration, and deep care—sometimes even independent of sexuality. Think of the marriage dynamic in The Incredibles: beneath the action, there’s partnership, trust, and enduring romantic love.

When someone suggests, “There are plenty of other women,” it overlooks the specificity of emotional bonds. Love isn’t interchangeable. You can’t instantly replace a meaningful connection with another person. Rebounds rarely resolve grief because the attachment was tied to someone particular. Emotional romantic investment doesn’t switch off on command; it fades gradually.

I don’t want my stories to feel overly idealized or detached from reality, but I do want to portray relationships where a man sincerely values the woman he loves. Not as an object. Not as a convenience. As a partner. Many relationships in my work are horrid, but when I depict genuine devotion, I want it to be unmistakable.

It also troubles me when heartbreak—especially among young men—is reduced to sexual frustration. When a character mourns a breakup and others imply he’s only upset about physical intimacy, it dismisses the legitimacy of his feelings. Romantic attachment can be powerful. Losing that bond hurts because of shared memories, dreams, and emotional intimacy—not merely pride or desire.

Ultimately, I believe children’s media played a role in shaping my understanding that non-sexual romantic love is possible and meaningful. That foundation makes me want to write stories where devotion, tenderness, and emotional depth are central. Romance, at its core, isn’t just about sexual attraction—it’s about connection.