As a documented fiend for the gay hockey romance Heated Rivalry, I must admit that I ended season one of the HBO/Crave series with a newfound respect for situationships. The ambiguous middle ground between a casual hookup and a healthy, labeled partnership has seen its fair share of critique from relationship experts and situationship victims alike. But the (spoiler alert) success of Ilya Rozanov and Shane Hollander’s fictional near-decade-long situation, during which they’d meet in secrecy at hockey tournaments and text each other using fake names, has slightly improved the situationship’s approval ratings online. A sector of fans crave the emotionally wrought journey that Ilya’s and Shane’s love story took them through. So much so that the show’s been deemed “situationship propaganda” by parties less swayed by Shane and Ilya’s label-less love affair.
I myself was not immune to the pro-situationship fanfare that emerged post-finale. I finished the series and made the bold claim to anyone that would listen that I also would love to be embroiled in my own Ilya and Shane-esque connection. But is it fair to reduce what two closeted top-ranking hockey players went through to a mere situationship? Plenty of conditions forced their relationship into undefined secrecy. Canonically, they met well before gay marriage was even legalized in the USA (and only a few years after Canada legalized it nationwide). They had reputations in the uber-macho professional hockey sphere to uphold, and rampant homophobia and confusion about their sexuality to navigate. The standard situationship is typically the result of commitment-phobia from one or both parties and communication issues. That’s not to say that Ilya and Shane didn’t deal with some of those problems as well, but as one blunt online commentator put it: “They’re in a situationship because they’re closeted, you’re in a situationship because they don’t like you.”
Now, not every undefined relationship is undefined because “they don’t like you.” But what this assessment does accurately address is that Shane and Ilya’s journey can’t be purely read as an endorsement of situationships at large. It’s amusing to poke fun at the years their original story spans (and the many time jumps the show employs to capture that length), but honestly, no one situationship is built the same as the next. The respect Shane and Ilya have for one another might not be reflected in the 6-week amorphous tryst you’re in with some guy who’s seemingly allergic to promptly answering text messages.
The situation that certain Heated Rivalry fans (myself included) might actually be romanticizing is a relationship rife with the angst, sexual tension, twists, and turns that make for great television. Or a storyline that neatly lands itself in a committed, loving place where both parties feel seen and have their emotions rightfully acknowledged. To chase a situationship is to chase transience. “Built into the name, and the form, is a sense of impermanence,” writes relationship expert Dr. Alexandra H. Solomon in her official situationship health audit. “A situationship is not a forever thing, neither by design, nor by desire. Embedded within the design is a sense that we’re on our way to something else—either a clearer commitment or a breakup.”
If you also want what Shane and Ilya have, consider what concrete details of their partnership you seek. Is it their ability to silently communicate? The innate understanding of what’s best for the other? Their impressive joint real estate portfolio? Perhaps that’s the actual situation you yearn for.
