Has Bromance Disappeared — Or Did We Just Rename It?
It’s Thursday. It’s technically Theory Time.
But today isn’t a wild plot twist theory. It’s something else.
It’s a pattern I’ve been noticing for years — something that feels cyclical, almost inevitable — and yet somehow new every time it happens.
I want to talk about the disappearance of “bromance.”
Because I genuinely think it doesn’t exist anymore.
Or rather — it gets renamed.
And once it gets renamed, it never goes back.
When Bromance Used to Be a Thing
There was a time when intense male friendships were allowed to just… be intense friendships.
We had:
Merlin — Arthur and Merlin.
X-Men: First Class — Charles Xavier and Erik Lehnsherr (McAvoy and Fassbender era).
Supernatural — Dean and Sam (yes, even there).
The O.C. — Seth and Ryan.
Even older duos like Starsky & Hutch.
Back then, intense bonds were often labeled bromance.
People made edits. People wrote meta. People joked about “they love each other more than anyone else.”
But it largely stayed in the realm of friendship — powerful, consuming, emotional friendship.
Now?
That same dynamic almost automatically becomes romantic or sexual in fandom spaces.
The word bromance feels… extinct.
The Modern Pattern
Let’s look at more recent examples:
Supergirl — Kara and Lena.
9-1-1 — Buck and Eddie.
Once Upon a Time — Regina and Emma.
These are relationships built on loyalty, emotional intimacy, sacrifice, protectiveness.
And they are almost immediately categorized as romantic by large portions of fandom.
Now let me be very clear:
This is not about sexuality being the issue.
I loved Kurt and Blaine in Glee. I love Yuri and Charlie in School Spirits.
Queer ships are not my problem.
My question is different.
Why does intense emotional connection now almost require romantic framing?
Why can’t we let certain relationships exist as something beyond labels?
The Agape Problem
I think part of this is that we’ve lost a category.
There’s friendship. There’s romantic love. There’s sexual attraction.
But what about something else?
There’s a concept — agape. A kind of love that transcends romance, transcends friendship, transcends physical desire. It’s total. It’s consuming. It’s soul-level connection without needing to become sexual or romantic.
Some relationships on screen feel like that.
Buck and Eddie sometimes feel like that. Kara and Lena sometimes feel like that. Regina and Emma, in a different way, felt like that.
And instead of allowing that category to exist, we flatten it.
We rename it romance.
Or we dismiss it entirely.
And in doing so, we kind of erase the possibility that friendship — or something adjacent to it — can be just as epic as romance.
“But Shipping Isn’t Harmful”
Here’s where it gets complicated.
Shipping is creative. It’s fandom expression. It’s imagination. It’s community.
But I’ve noticed something shift.
Years ago, you could say: “I love their bromance.”
And no one attacked you.
Now, if you say: “I see them as friends.”
You can get treated like you’re denying something sacred.
Like you’re blind. Or worse — like you’re bigoted.
And that’s the part that genuinely confuses me.
Because in earlier eras, fandom could hold both:
“I ship them romantically.”
“I love their friendship.”
Now it often feels like it has to be one or the other.
Is This Cultural?
So here’s my actual theory:
Maybe we’ve become so starved for meaningful emotional intimacy in media — especially between men — that the only framework we recognize for deep vulnerability is romance.
If two men share emotional openness, protectiveness, devotion — we assume it must be romantic.
But why?
Why can’t male intimacy be allowed to exist without being sexualized?
Why can’t two women share obsessive loyalty without it being read as suppressed romance?
Why did bromance fade away as a label around 2018–2019?
Because it did.
And the shift feels noticeable.
The Personal Layer
I’ll admit something personal.
I once experienced that kind of connection in real life.
A bond that didn’t fit friendship. Didn’t fit romance. Didn’t fit anything neat.
It was just… my person.
That person died.
And I’ve never experienced that kind of connection again.
So when I see those dynamics on screen, they comfort me.
They remind me of something pure.
And maybe that’s why I resist when every intense bond gets automatically reframed as sexual or romantic.
Because sometimes the beauty is in the ambiguity.
Sometimes the beauty is in not labeling it at all.
So Here’s My Question
Why do you think bromance disappeared?
Why does intense emotional intimacy now almost automatically get romanticized?
Is it cultural evolution? Fandom amplification? Queer coding awareness? Loneliness? Media literacy shifts?
Or am I just nostalgic for a category that doesn’t exist anymore?
This isn’t a fight.
It’s a genuine Theory Time.
Where do you think the shift happened — and why?