Their comically horrified reactions to being broadcast were immediately meme-able, and within minutes, the internet was aware of the scandal, and their pictures were everywhere. Everybody weighed in with their jokes and judgments. As the incident went viral, it became a textbook depiction of romance in the age of the internet, where intimacy and humiliation are converted to content.

Romance has always had an audience. Before the internet, Prince Charles’s wedding to Lady Diana was one of the most-watched TV broadcasts of all time. In our personal lives, we’ve always known couples whose relationships we admire and look up to. We gather our families, friends, and sometimes acquaintances to witness our love for romantic partners during proposals, wedding ceremonies, and vow renewals. Love has never been an entirely private affair.

However, the size and persistence of the audience have changed, thanks to the world we live in today. Social media has eradicated the boundaries between personal and public life, and intimate relationships have not been spared. People now launch relationships through Instagram stories and confirm breakups through social media captions. The audience no longer simply observes; they actively participate with likes, comments, retweets, and reposts. Although this behavior is more visible with celebrities, it applies to anyone with a social media account and a following. Of course, a a market for “influencer couples” has emerged amongst the social noise. For them, love is the product, and their romance is content. Brands sponsor dates, and arguments are filmed for engagement. The product is sold, and performance is intense because the joint venture must continue. Everything is publicized, monetized, and criticized.

It’s easy to think that this phenomenon stays within the levels of those involved (celebrities and influencers), but the reality is that it trickles down to everyday people. Expectations created and shaped by celebrities and influencers now shape everyday life. Everybody wants flowers, even the people who never thought about them before their favourite influencer posted a bouquet. Proposals must have a certain aesthetic, complete with rose petals, flower bouquets, and people recording the moment. Anniversaries must be Insta-worthy, and virtual public displays of affection are required. Intimate moments between ordinary people are increasingly curated for an audience that can be as harsh as it is supportive.

We now live in a world where the general belief is that romance must be documented and publicized to be believed. Relationships that exist entirely offline are seen as suspicious or even illegitimate. So, people enter a dual relationship where the relationship presents differently on and off camera. Couples now argue in private and perform happiness in public. Family moments must be carefully curated for the camera, and optics are managed alongside emotions.

The psychological effects are very significant. The audience internalizes what they see and begins to aspire to the online version of the relationship. The feeling that love is working because it looks that way grows, and comparisons start.

People begin to pressure their partners to be happy in a convincing way for the ‘gram, to keep up with relationship trends, or to even alter their personalities to fit into the aesthetic they like. Intimacy becomes lost to performance, and dissatisfaction becomes the order of the day. Nobody wants their relationship to be “unpresentable.”

Curated online aesthetics now distort expectations, and partners may be forced to perform together to please their audience. Seemingly trivial matters, such as whether or not a person has been “soft-launched,” whether a partner liked the other person’s social media posts, and whether the proposal went viral, become relationship issues.

Stadiums have been harnessing the public’s love for romance for a very long time. The kiss-cam predates social media and is a generally accepted part of stadium entertainment. But it was a somewhat contained spectacle shared by those physically present in the stadium and maybe those watching on television. Now, however, it is shared by everyone around the world long after the game ends, thanks to social media. Meanwhile, we see many relationships, such as the Beckhams’ and Will and Jada’s, and many other celebrities’ being picked apart by strangers online.

Welcome to an era where romance and social media are deeply intertwined, and moments of intimacy are routinely turned into content. Public displays of affection are encouraged, captured, and then redistributed online, often without the consent or control of the people involved. The clip goes online, and that moment becomes permanent, searchable, and open to criticism and interpretation.

When Kristin Cabot and Andy Byron got caught on the kiss-cam, they couldn’t have imagined how much damage the clip would cause once it hit the internet. Cabot recently told the New York Times that she’s been having trouble finding a new job because she is now viewed as “unemployable,” and she has been receiving death threats over the incident. Their careers, marriages, and families were brutally dragged into the public eye, all from a moment that, although wrong, was meant to be private.

Once again, we love a romantic spectacle. Love and romance are some of the very few concepts that feel universal. Both the rich and the poor, the educated and the uneducated, can feel love. It cuts across class, culture, geography, and race. So, when we observe romance, it offers us a sense of connection and comfort. That’s why we’ll coo over intimacy videos from couples we didn’t know before, jubilate when celebrities we “ship” get together, and feel sad when these unions end. It’s a universal experience we can all relate to, so we welcome every opportunity to participate, whether directly or indirectly.

However, our intentions are not always so pure. When scandals happen, we also connect to them because they make us feel better about ourselves. We can preach our values and reaffirm our own sense of self-righteousness. We judge swiftly and harshly because, being a public spectacle, we now consider ourselves stakeholders in the relationship. Whether you’re willing to admit it or not, you most likely have an opinion on Nara Smith’s marriage and family life, based on her content and what you’ve seen online about her.

Of course, there’s the capitalist angle to it. Scandals drive engagements, which drive profits for the platforms and even the parties involved. Nothing gets an audience going like outrage, so if scandals keep us scrolling and engaging, they will be fed to us. We might enjoy the romance, but tech companies make more money from the outrage.

Love has always been a social exercise, and it should be celebrated publicly. But in doing so, we must remember that intimacy at its core is not meant to be optimized for public consumption. Romance does not necessarily thrive as a spectacle, and a quieter version is usually healthier for all parties involved.