Love Without Commitment: Economics of Situationships

©"In the Mood for Love by Zeynep Reis" by @zeiarte

A familiar scene in modern dating: two people like each other, spend time together, text constantly, tell their friends about one another, and may even be sexually involved. Yet when the familiar question arises: “So… what are we?” Neither has a clear answer. They are not strangers, but they are not quite in a relationship either. In recent years, this ambiguous state has acquired a name: the situationship.

A  situationship is an informal arrangement between two people that combines elements of both emotional and physical connection. Unlike a conventional relationship, it operates outside the bounds of exclusivity or formal commitment. Situationships hold under two conditions: first, the individuals involved hold different desires, and second, despite recognizing this difference, they tend to ignore it while maintaining some form of relationship. In this sense, a situationship becomes a kind of agreement to disagree. 

Situationships are often described as an individual problem. The problem of people being afraid of commitment or lacking emotional maturity. Yet this explanation seems incomplete. Since situationships are so widespread, the issue may lie less with individuals themselves and more with the dynamic that emerges between two people; where strategic incentives, psychological biases, and broader economic and social conditions shape how each person responds to the other's choices.

Game Theory of Situationships

One way to understand the persistence of situationships is through the lens of game theory. Game theory studies how individuals make decisions when the outcome depends not only on their own actions but also on others’ actions. In romantic relationships, both partners must decide whether to define the relationship or remain in an ambiguous state, while anticipating the other person's response. This interaction can be represented by a simple payoff matrix, where each player chooses between defining the relationship or remaining ambiguous, and the resulting outcomes depend on their choices. 

	P2: Define	P2: Keep Ambiguous
P1: Define	4, 4	-2, 3
P2: Keep Ambiguous	3, -2	2, 2

Looking at the payoff matrix, Player 1 represents one person in the relationship, and Player 2 represents the other. In each box, the first number corresponds to Player 1’s payoff (or utility) and the second number corresponds to Player 2’s payoff. As is typical in game theory, higher numbers indicate better outcomes, meaning greater satisfaction for that player.

If both players decide to define the relationship, they end up in the top-left box and each receives a payoff of 4. This is the highest payoff available to both players, since mutual commitment provides clarity, stability, and emotional security. 

However, the situation becomes more complex when risk is introduced. Remaining ambiguous places both players in the bottom-right box, where each receives a payoff of 2. While this outcome is not ideal, it is stable and relatively safe: the relationship continues, and neither player risks immediate rejection or emotional exposure.

The problem arises when only one person pushes for a definition. If Player 1 chooses to define the relationship but Player 2 prefers to keep things ambiguous, Player 1 receives a negative payoff of −2 while Player 2 receives a payoff of 3. In this case, Player 1 bears the cost of vulnerability and possible rejection, while Player 2 benefits from maintaining flexibility without committing to the relationship. Because unilateral commitment entails this risk, both players may prefer to remain in the ambiguous outcome, even though mutual commitment would yield a better outcome for both.

This payoff structure produces two stable outcomes, also called Nash equilibria. A Nash equilibrium occurs when neither player can improve their payoff by changing their strategy while the other player's strategy remains the same. In this matrix, the first equilibrium occurs when both players define the relationship, resulting in the payoff (4,4). This outcome is also Pareto optimal: there is no alternative in which one player could be made better off without making the other worse off. In this case, neither player has an incentive to switch to ambiguity, since doing so would lower their payoff.

A second Nash equilibrium also exists when both players remain ambiguous, producing the outcome (2,2). While stable, this outcome is not Pareto optimal. Mutual commitment would make both players better off, yet the situationship equilibrium persists. This illustrates a core tension in game theory: individually rational choices can lead to collectively suboptimal outcomes.  In this way, the situationship persists not as the most desirable outcome, but as the most rational one.

Behavioral Foundations of Ambiguity

While the game-theoretic model helps explain how situationships can emerge as a stable equilibrium, insights from behavioral economics and social psychology reveal how psychological biases and informational constraints distort the payoff structure as each player perceives it, making the (2,2) equilibrium not just strategically stable, but psychologically sticky.

Loss aversion, drawn from prospect theory, offers one explanation for why the (2,2) equilibrium is so difficult to escape. Prospect theory suggests that individuals assess outcomes relative to a benchmark, and losses seem more significant than comparable gains. In the context of the matrix, the current situationship becomes that reference point. Moving toward (4,4) is not perceived as a straightforward gain, but rather as a gamble in which the downside, landing on −2, feels disproportionately severe. Empirically, losses are felt roughly two to two and a half times more intensely than equivalent gains, meaning the −2 outcome carries far greater psychological weight than the numbers alone suggest. Consider someone who has grown close to another person over several months. Asking "What are we?" might secure the relationship, but it might also shatter it entirely. As a result, the subjective expected value of defining the relationship is lower than the matrix implies, and the safer but suboptimal outcome becomes increasingly hard to move away from.

A further distortion arises from information asymmetry. In the standard matrix, both players are assumed to know the full payoff structure, including what the other person stands to gain or lose. In reality, each player has only partial knowledge of the other's intentions, emotional investment, and willingness to commit, meaning the two players are effectively operating with different versions of the matrix. One person might believe mutual commitment is likely, while the other remains far more uncertain. This divergence makes coordination on (4,4) significantly harder to achieve. Rather than communicating directly, individuals often resort to signaling. Conveying interest through behavioral cues, ambiguous gestures, or indirect remarks, in an attempt to infer the other's position without exposing themselves to rejection. But because these signals are imprecise and open to interpretation, they rarely resolve the underlying uncertainty. The same behavior, spending every weekend together, for instance, might be read as a commitment signal by one player and as mere convenience by the other. As long as both players are altering their ideas based on unclear facts, coordination on the mutually desired result is difficult. 

Over time, the sunk cost fallacy compounds these effects further. Once individuals have invested significant time, emotional energy, and attention in an undefined relationship, they become increasingly reluctant to leave, even when the outcome remains unsatisfactory. From a rational standpoint, past investment should not influence forward-looking decisions. But in practice, it does. The sunk cost effectively inflates the perceived value of the (2,2) outcome: the player is no longer evaluating the relationship on its current merits alone but is also accounting for everything already invested in it. This escalation of commitment means that the longer a situationship continues, the more entrenched the (2,2) equilibrium becomes, not because it is optimal, but because the psychological cost of exit rises with every passing week.

Taken together, these mechanisms suggest that situationships are not merely the result of emotional indecision or immaturity. Rather, they emerge from a complex interaction of psychological biases, strategic incentives, and informational uncertainty that shape how individuals navigate modern romantic relationships.

Costs of Commitment

Beyond individual psychology, the economic structure of modern life also plays a significant role in shaping relationship behavior. Traditional relationships are not only emotional commitments but also financial ones. Dating often involves spending: going out for dinners, buying gifts, traveling together, or even just having access to private spaces to spend time with a partner. These costs can accumulate, especially for young people already facing rising living expenses.

In some contexts, these expectations are further shaped by gender norms. In heterosexual dating cultures where men are often expected to bear a larger share of these financial costs, this can create an additional disincentive to enter fully committed relationships. Low-commitment arrangements, such as situationships, may therefore appear more economically manageable. They allow individuals to maintain intimacy without fully assuming the financial expectations associated with a defined partnership.

In this sense, situationships can resemble a kind of “pay-as-you-go” model of intimacy. They provide emotional and physical connection without the financial and symbolic obligations that come with labeling a relationship. What may appear as emotional ambiguity can, in part, reflect a rational response to economic constraints.

Uncertainty

Alongside economic pressures, broader forms of uncertainty in contemporary life also shape how individuals approach relationships. Compared to previous generations, young people today experience far greater mobility. They move across cities and countries for education, work, or simply for better living conditions. As a result, long-term stability, both geographically and professionally, has become less predictable.

In such a context, committing to a clearly defined relationship can feel difficult, not only emotionally, but also logistically. A university student, for instance, may not know whether they will remain in the same city after graduation, pursue further studies elsewhere, or return to their home country. When the future is uncertain, entering a committed relationship can feel like making a promise that may soon become impossible to keep.

As a result, people may avoid commitment not because they lack emotional interest, but because they lack structural stability. Relationships are constrained not only by feelings but by timelines, visas, job markets, and geographic movement. In a world where individuals are unsure where they will be in a year, promising long-term commitment can begin to feel less like a romantic decision and more like a risky one. In this sense, situationships can be understood as an adaptation to uncertainty. They allow individuals to maintain a connection while preserving flexibility in an unpredictable environment.

Emotional Costs of Ambiguity

While situationships may be rational within the conditions of modern dating, they often carry high emotional costs. The ambiguity that makes them strategically appealing can also create a persistent sense of uncertainty. Without clearly defined expectations, individuals may find themselves overanalyzing interactions, questioning intentions, and struggling to interpret even ordinary behaviors. What appears as flexibility on the surface can, in practice, lead to emotional instability. 

 Moreover, situationships are rarely perfectly balanced. Even when both individuals agree to avoid defining the relationship, their underlying desires might differ. One person might hope that the relationship will eventually become more serious, while the other might prefer to maintain ambiguity. In such cases, the benefits of flexibility are not distributed equally. One individual retains optionality, while the other absorbs the emotional cost of waiting, uncertainty, and unmet expectations.

Situationships may therefore serve as logical arrangements, but they often lead to uneven emotional effects. In reality, what seems to be mutual ambiguity might conceal disparities in expectations and investment levels, making one party more vulnerable than the other. This asymmetry is difficult to capture in a payoff matrix, where both players are assumed to face the same structure of choices and consequences. Yet in practice, one person may be deeply emotionally invested while the other remains detached, meaning the cost of vulnerability is not equally shared. This points to perhaps the biggest limitation of applying game theory to situationships: the model assumes rational, symmetric players, when in reality, the emotional stakes and the risks are rarely the same for both people. Ultimately, this demonstrates the limitations of treating intimacy as a strategic issue: whereas ambiguity may lower immediate risk, it may also prevent the growth of emotional depth, security, and trust—all of which are necessary for successful relationships.

Conclusion

Situationships, then, are not simply the product of emotional unavailability or individual failure. They emerge from a system in which ambiguity can be strategically advantageous for some, and structurally unavoidable for others. Psychological biases, economic pressures, and social uncertainty all contribute to making clearly defined relationships feel riskier than they once were. Yet this does not fully resolve the tension at the heart of modern intimacy. While situationships may be rational within such a system, they often remain emotionally unsatisfying. The logic that sustains them, calculation, caution, and risk management, stands in contrast to the vulnerability that meaningful connection seems to require. In a world increasingly shaped by this logic, love becomes something to be negotiated rather than simply experienced, but perhaps this is precisely the point at which rationality reaches its limit. Not every decision can be reduced to payoffs and risks. Choosing to care, to be open about your feelings, or to define a relationship may always involve uncertainty. Rather than asking how to eliminate that uncertainty, the more meaningful question may be whether it is worth accepting it. Because in the end, avoiding risk may protect us from loss, but it may also prevent the very experiences that make connection meaningful..