Hot Take: “Slow Burn” Relationships Are Way More Sustainable Than “The Spark”

August in New York has a way of slowing things down. Despite the city’s unyielding push to keep up the pace, it’s the only time of year when things feel still. The energy is just a little more languid, a little more contemplative—and it’s the only instance where you could walk into Emilio’s Ballato for a table on demand. 

Enter: Brooke, who recently found herself standing outside of a (too trendy) West Village coffee shop. She was waiting for yet another Hinge date—someone who, in a word, was commonplace. Miles had a decent smile, photos of him hiking with friends and holding his nephews (so not an obvious serial killer), and he had the obligatory line about loving spicy margs on his profile. Despite a few interchangeable parts, it was as if he’d been plucked from the same assembly line as every other guy she swiped right on.

Which is why, when Brooke saw Miles rounding the corner, she wasn’t surprised by the absence of butterflies in her stomach. After a stiff hug, he sat down, and the world continued to move around them. She was still hyper-aware of the tank top stuck to her back with sweat—and the homeless man yelling, "TRY ME" in her periphery—as they made small talk about work and the merits of oat milk over regular. The date carried no fanny flutters, no grand gestures, and no slow-motion suspense. Just two people, sipping slightly melted iced coffee, making slightly too polite conversation. 

But here’s the twist: After the date ended, Brooke felt light as a feather. She wasn’t wondering if she’d made the right impression or spiraling about becoming spinster cat lady on the six train. Instead, there was a strange sense of ease; a weightlessness that felt foreign. Maybe it was the August heat, or maybe it was the way he smiled when she missed the straw with her mouth. But she couldn’t shake the sensation that this date, ordinary as it was, had left her feeling…content.

Welcome the start of a “slow burn relationship.” The term has garnered millions of views on TikTok, and in one viral video, a creator explains: “It’s a relationship that progresses slowly, or naturally, without forcing the timing.” The basic idea is that slow burn doesn’t sweep you off your feet. It won’t send your heart racing from the get-go, and instead, it simmers over time like a crock pot. You may not even realize how badly you were craving brisket (a metaphor for serious commitment) until the house is filled with the mouth-watering aroma of braised beef. 

To that end, slow burn relationships vary from inception. Maybe, like Brooke, your mind is somewhere else when you meet the elusive one. Or perhaps it’s an encounter with a long-time friend—out of nowhere, one night beckons the relationship to become something more. Yet, regardless of when the shift happens, it’s a connection that’s poised to grow over time. There are no preconceived pressures that force the relationship to “work”—and it’s about building a foundation that feels familiar and secure. 

But then, of course, you have “the spark.” (We all know and love it, maybe too well). It’s that electric jolt that makes your heart race—palms sweaty after five minutes of talking—an instantaneous set of scenarios that always end in “what if.”. It’s the kind of interaction that forces you to send an unhinged, I just met my husband text to the group chat at 3 a.m. You’ve only known them for three hours, but you’re sure: something that feels this good must be meant for you. 

Unfortunately, however, the caveat of the spark is that it often carries a predictable lifecycle. First comes infatuation—everything they do is intoxicating, be it the way they chew their food to the way they place their hand on a steering wheel. But then comes the frustration: Why aren’t they texting back fast enough? Is it me, or do things feel suddenly…off? It’s what, more often than not, begets the no-contact phase. Once the addictive thrill has fizzled out, you’re left to wonder whether the connection was even real to begin with.

Anyone who’s been through this rhythm will agree: it can be exhilarating, all-consuming, and ultimately short-lived romance. A slow burn, on the other hand, is like an Amtrak train—safe, always running and immovable. On one hand, we’ve convinced ourselves that instant chemistry is the only connection worth pursuing (or risking another heartbreak for). Yet, on the other hand, I wonder whether we cling to the spark’s excitement to avoid getting too deep. At what point does overwhelming attraction become an itch we need to scratch (before stability takes priority)?

The truth is that most women—especially those who move to New York—carry the fantasy of finding love at first sight. A John Cusack from Serendipity, a Tom Hanks from Sleepless in Seattle or a Mr. Big from Sex and The City. But in my experience, life looks a lot more realistic when you watch When Harry Met Sally. It takes time to *really* get to know someone—and it doesn’t help that dating apps have created a transactional love economy. Now more than ever, we seem to be feigning for instant attraction, which might just be the reason we’re struggling to find meaningful connections. There’s a saying that goes, “Why do I keep hitting myself on the head with a hammer? Because it feels so good when you stop.” Perhaps the ungetatable spark is the hammer, and the slow burn is the relief we didn’t know we needed.