Chaos Celibacy: The Great Romantic Boycott

Sunday, March 9, 2025.

There was a time, believe it or not, when people met by accident.

Maybe they bumped into each other reaching for the same book, or sat next to each other on a train, or—God forbid—locked eyes across a smoky bar and got talking.

This was before love became a slot machine, before human desire was subjected to the cold, mechanical whirr of an algorithm.

And yet, here we are, neck-deep in a dating landscape so chaotic, so absurdly volatile, that a new movement has emerged from the wreckage: chaos celibacy.

It’s not that these people hate love. Far from it.

They just hate whatever this is.

The swipes, the ghostings, the emotionally incoherent text messages that arrive at 2 AM and disappear into oblivion by dawn.

They are opting out, defecting, taking their ball and going home—not because they’ve lost the game, but because the game has become a grotesque parody of itself, a bizarre Hunger Games of attraction where nobody wins, but everyone keeps playing.

The Digital Age and the Birth of Nah, I’m Good

Once upon a time, romance was a high-stakes adventure.

You had to work up the nerve to talk to someone, risk rejection, risk humiliation, risk actually feeling something.

Now? Now you sit in bed, half-watching Netflix, swiping through an endless catalog of curated faces, picking people like they’re dinner options on a food delivery app. The whole thing, they say, is a racket. A relentless, mind-numbing cycle of enthusiasm and disappointment.

And so, chaos celibates are saying, enough.

They aren’t bitter. They aren’t losers. They are just tired. Tired of being somebody’s third option.

Tired of decoding lukewarm text messages. Tired of investing in people who vanish like cheap magicians. So they’ve decided to sit this one out. They are not religious. They are not sexless automatons. They just want a break from the madness.

Echoes from History: Celibacy’s Greatest Hits

Of course, rejecting the chaos of romance is not a new idea. The world has seen it before, though usually with a little more God and a little less existential exhaustion.

• The Shakers: 18th-century religious zealots who believed that true spiritual purity came from dancing, singing, and—crucially—never having sex. Not surprisingly, they died out.

• The Koreshan Unity: Led by a man named Cyrus Teed, who convinced his followers that sexual abstinence would make them immortal. They died out too.

• Brahma Kumaris: This is a modern spiritualist movement whose devotees believe that celibacy grants divine clarity. Some buy into it. Others say it’s just a great way to avoid awkward first dates.

Unlike their predecessors, chaos celibates aren’t seeking enlightenment. They just don’t want to spend another evening making small talk with someone who still has Hinge notifications popping up mid-conversation.

The Global Movement: Women Leading the Charge

In South Korea, a movement known as the 4B has gained traction. These women have taken things a step further, not only rejecting dating but also marriage, sex, and childbirth altogether. Not because they don’t like men, but because they’re tired of men’s nonsense. They’ve seen enough. They’ve heard enough. They have chosen to exist on their own terms.

Western counterparts have responded with their own versions of celibacy-as-protest.

The boysober movement, for instance, is gaining traction among women who are done contorting themselves into palatable versions of femininity just to be tolerated by mediocre men. They are not swearing off sex forever—they are just taking a prolonged vacation from its indignities.

Even celebrities are getting in on it. If only Andy Dick had latched onto to this fad sooner.

New York Post reports that Cheryl Burke has chosen celibacy as a way to reset, refocus, and escape the endless cycle of mediocre romance. She are not heartbroken, she says,—she is simply of the belief that none of it is real. Her authentic self is simply too vulnerable navigating modern dating culture.

The Big Picture: What Happens When People Opt Out?

So what does this all mean? Are we witnessing the slow erosion of romance itself? The death of desire?

Or is this merely a temporary pause, a collective deep breath before humanity figures out how to make love work again? Cheryl still notices hot guys, so it’s not about that.

One thing is certain: many lonely souls are exhausted.

Love, once a grand and intoxicating adventure, has become an exhausting chore, a game rigged for maximum frustration. And when a game gets bad enough, some people simply stop playing.

Chaos celibacy isn’t the end of love—it’s a protest against what love has become.

Maybe, just maybe, if enough people walk away, we’ll all be forced to rethink how we do this. Maybe we’ll stop treating each other like disposable options. Maybe we’ll remember what it’s like to miss one another. Maybe, if we’re lucky, we’ll find our way back to something real.

But until then, a whole lot of people are sitting this one out. And honestly? Who can blame them?

Be Well, Stay Kind, and Godspeed.