Love and Romance: The Price Tag We’ve Given to Affection
Love, at its best, is not a commodity. It is a covenant—freely chosen, mutually given, and deeply human.
Love has always been a beautiful contradiction: selfless yet reciprocal, gentle yet demanding. But something in our modern Ghanaian culture is quietly changing. Romance, once an act of connection, now too often feels like a transaction. From “buy me airtime” to “pay for my transport” and “send me Momo,” affection has begun to carry a receipt.
This is not to say the past was perfect—at least from what I have read. In earlier times, men were expected to provide, while women’s emotional and domestic labor often went unseen. Yet somewhere between liberation and modernity, we have started turning affection into negotiation. We need to ask ourselves: what exactly have we turned love into—and why?
Money has always mattered, especially in a country where the cost of living rises faster than salaries, where the take-home pay rarely meets the needs of the home, and where many young people struggle to make ends meet honestly. Showing care through financial help isn’t wrong. But when money becomes the only language of love, we lose something sacred.
The rise of cashless banking and our ever-expanding appetite for expensive tastes have made it easy to send money but harder to show presence. Convenience has replaced conversation; transfers have replaced time. When every act of giving expects a return, sincerity quietly dies.
Many people now complain of being valued only for what they can provide, while others see financial support as fair compensation for attention and emotional energy. Both feel used. And between them sits disappointment and silence.
At the same time, society itself has changed dramatically. Today, people of all genders are breaking barriers at relatively young ages—occupying high offices, leading boardrooms, running businesses, and excelling in classrooms. That progress should also reshape how we understand love. If equality in public life is something to celebrate, then equality in relationships should follow naturally. Gone are the days when one partner was automatically the giver and the other the receiver.
Real empowerment means everyone brings something to the table: compassion, stability, effort, and, yes, resources when possible. Love should never be an economic lifeline; it should be a partnership built on dignity and choice.
Yet many relationships today begin with suspicion. People ask, “Are they here for me or for what I can provide?” or “Do they love me, or are they buying my affection?” This transactional mindset drains warmth from romance. Earlier generations—for all their flaws—believed in endurance and shared struggle. Today, endurance has been replaced by entitlement.
The constant need for financial proof of love puts heavy pressure on people still building their lives. Even our language has changed. “Support me” has turned into “sponsor me.” “Care” has become “cash.” When affection comes with an invoice, genuine emotion becomes a luxury.
The answer isn’t to remove generosity from relationships; it’s to restore balance. Love should be reciprocal, not a business account. Giving should flow from kindness, not obligation. Receiving should come with gratitude, not expectation. Love can’t grow where appreciation has been replaced by entitlement.
As our society evolves, our values must evolve with it. Empowered individuals and a rising middle class have the chance to redefine romance as partnership, not performance. The truest acts of love are simple: the message that says, “I’m thinking of you,” the encouragement that says, “You can do this,” the respect that says, “I see you.” Those gestures cost nothing but mean everything.
We Ghanaians are known for warmth, for community, and for looking out for one another. It is time to bring that same humanity back into our relationships. Let love be less about transaction and more about transformation—where two people lift each other without keeping score. Gone are the days when one person carried the burden of giving, and gone, too, should be the days when affection carries a price tag.
Love, at its best, is not a commodity. It is a covenant—freely chosen, mutually given, and deeply human.
