“How do you feel about horror movies?”

I copied and pasted the message to the coolest women I was connected with on Tinder, putting myself out there in a surprising way: I wasn’t trying to go on several Halloween-themed dates this past fall. No. I was trying to make friends—because that’s equally, if not more, important to me as feeling fulfilled romantically.

We live in a culture that has a complicated relationship with the idea of friendship. On one hand, having the social skills in childhood and adolescence to surround yourself with peer affection is encouraged. On the other hand, we’re expected to drop these connections in young adulthood and redirect our focus to the more “serious” endeavor of finding a romantic partner and settling down to start a family.

This Valentine’s Day, I’m reflecting on how our culture’s hyper-focus on romantic love comes at a cost: the deprioritization of friendship.

Many folks in adulthood bemoan the difficulty of making friends. Maybe this is unsurprising, given the headlines screaming that Millennials and Gen Z are getting married and having children later, if at all. Generationally, we’re de-centering the importance of traditional timelines around “settling down.” But we still need community. The problem is, we don’t have a blueprint for how to center friendship because we’ve been taught to value or prioritize friends less than our partners.

Let me explain.

The hyperfocus on romantic love as the be all, end all of adult happiness is wrapped up in the nuclear family: the idea that we leave our families of origin to start new units, made up–ideally–of a husband, wife, and a spattering of biological children. And this endeavor isn’t just celebrated socially, it is even rewarded by the government (think: tax breaks for married couples).

One doesn’t have to be a full-on relationship anarchist to unsubscribe to the idea that our romantic lives are the most important to our overall interpersonal satisfaction. The idea of “chosen family” has been common in queer communities for many reasons – most notably, that many queers are dismissed or even disowned by their families of origin. But it is also because we tend to want to surround ourselves with like-minded people who understand the myriad ways we don’t fit in.

Platonic love is so celebrated in queer community that there’s even a term to describe it: queerplatonic partnerships. Think of it as somewhere between a bestie and a traditional partner: There isn’t necessarily a romantic or sexual component to the connection, but it’s deeply intimate and can include shared finances, housing, or responsibility for children. It’s a love with depth and commitment, a powerful bond that I’ve often experienced as akin to sisterhood.

I have always surrounded myself with other queer, mostly bisexual, femme women, intentionally in adulthood, and accidentally as I was growing up. Femme culture is a powerful offshoot of radical queer culture in general, wherein community care takes center stage and we (literally or figuratively) pray at the altar of divine femininity. While heteronormative, patriarchal society at large sees women’s nurturance as innate and related to childrearing, femme culture sees nurturance as a skill learned and used to care for our larger queer community, one that is so often left for dead.

But there is something that resonates about the idea of Galentine’s Day. Why spend our time, money and energy on romantic love when platonic love can be just as powerful, or even more so? Why is there a commercial holiday dedicated to partnership, when there are so many other ways we can give and receive love? Why swipe on Tinder just for romance when, in fact, I could find community there, too? Especially in this time of horrifying upheaval, from televised genocide to climate disaster to the possible re-election of Donald Trump, we need all the radical community we can find.

Sure. I will trade gifts with my partner for Valentine’s Day, because I love any excuse to shower him with love. But I’ll be sending goodies to my besties this week, too. Not only that, but my femme friends and I have another horror movie party coming up this weekend! We made it a monthly occurrence where we feed one another, catch up on our lives, laugh, and drink wine, all thanks to one (hella awkward) copied and pasted Tinder message – and my will to take a chance on forming the kind of relationships that I know I need, the nuclear family be damned.

Melissa A. Fabello is a relationship coach and health educator whose work focuses on the politics of wellness. She holds a PhD in Human Sexuality Studies. Follow her on Instagram and TikTok for her takes on sex, relationships, and Taylor Swift.