Materialists: Dating, Love, and the Cost of Stability
Harry: You must know a lot about love.
Lucy: I know about dating.
Harry: What's the difference?
Lucy: Dating takes a lot of effort. A lot of trial and error. A ton of risk and pain. Love is easy.
Harry: Is it? I find it to be the most difficult thing in the world.
Lucy: That's because we can't help it. It just walks into our lives sometimes.
When Lucy met Harry at his brother’s wedding reception, that exchange lingered with me longer than I expected.
I watched Materialists just last night. At first, I thought it would be another white-picket-fence Hollywood story, you know, the stereotype. But the cast intrigued me. The title intrigued me. So I braced myself and watched it.
And I cried. A lot.
Not because of grand gestures.
Not because of romantic dinners, red roses, or a twelve-million-dollar apartment.
I cried because I saw myself in Lucy, in more ways than I was ready to admit.
Lucy built her life and career from the ground up, yet still didn’t fully know what she wanted out of life, except for financial stability. She was born and raised poor. Financial safety wasn’t about luxury for her; it was about survival, self-worth, and leverage.
I get that.
I wasn’t born poor, but there were days my family barely made ends meet. I barely made ends meet myself when I left my parents’ house at thirteen. So yes, I understood her hunger. Deeply.
Like she said (not verbatim): “It’s the first and only thing I do best.”
She loved her job. She delivered. Until she slipped.
I didn’t see that coming.
And as a woman who has been off dating apps for over a year and voluntarily celibate for eight months, that scene hurt more than I expected. Deeply. Honestly, at that point, I’d still choose a bear over a man any day.
I loved watching the dynamic between Lucy and Harry.
Harry, born with a silver spoon, eating from a silver platter, invested heavily in himself and his brother. Their connection felt genuine, yet subtly transactional. Beautiful, even. And yes, I believe it’s a fantasy many women secretly carry.
I’ve been there. Lived with the unicorn. Shared air in the same room. Became someone’s muse and second priority, always after work, after empire. It was revealing.
Then came that dinner conversation. And it hit me straight in the gut. Harry didn’t just see Lucy’s value; he articulated it. Calmly. Intelligently. Without apology.
I couldn’t remember the last time a man did that for me, and dared to say it out loud without triggering my defenses. I replayed that scene three times. It wasn’t enough to hurt my heart and my ego just once.
Harry: You say you think I'm smart, but you're talking to me like I'm a caveman. I wouldn't date you if I didn't see value. I'm not like my brother; I'm not looking for the nicest, prettiest rich girl who likes me back. I'm looking for someone who understands the game, how the world works. I'm looking for someone I respect. And trust. Someone who knows more than me. I don't want to date you for your material assets... though I think you're underselling them by a significant margin. Material assets are cheap; they don't last. I want to be with you for your intangible assets. Those are good investments. They don't degrade. They only get sharper.
Lucy and John were together for five years. And nothing moved. Not their careers. Not their finances. Not their relationship.
I understood why she left.
When women lose a sense of stability and safety, we enter survival mode, again and again. Hyper-independence. Fight or flight. Constant uncertainty.
It’s exhausting. It weakens us, not by days, but by minutes. By seconds.
But Lucy can’t share her most vulnerable parts with Harry; she can only share them with John. And this, to me, is the sharpest contrast and the biggest inner battle that I believe almost everyone has faced at some point in their lives.
You can’t have two things that are wildly different yet equally crucial for your well-being at the same time. At some point, you have to compromise or sacrifice one of them.
With Harry, Lucy has financial and physical stability.
With John, she has mental and spiritual safety.
And Lucy’s pattern is clear: she chooses to stay inside the familiarity she built with John over five years.
Been there. Done that.
Familiarity often disguises itself as safety and comfort. And in some real-life cases, the people who carry that familiarity do evolve together. Both parties believe they’ve calmed the storm, survived the high waves, and are finally ready to sail into the sunset side by side.
But Materialists isn’t just about romance. It’s not about poor man versus rich man, or dating versus marriage. It’s much bigger than that.
It’s one of the clearest mirrors we can hold up to ourselves and ask:
Do we really love ourselves without terms and conditions?
Who do we truly want as our lifetime partner?
Do we actually understand and have the discernment between our wants and our needs?
Do we feel enough on our own?
Do we still have faith in ourselves through thick and thin?
Are we willing to compromise or sacrifice to reach contentment?
Are we willing to work on ourselves so we can become better?
Are we brave enough to take that leap of faith?
Then comes the scene that completely broke me.
John: [after Lucy kisses him at someone's wedding event] What is this?
Lucy: What is what?
John: Are we getting back together?
[Lucy doesn't answer]
John: Lucy, are we getting back together?
Lucy: I don't know. I really don't.
John: So you thought you'd just show up at my door, not have a boyfriend, agree to get in my car, kiss me, fuck me while you try to get over someone else, and then leave me again? Is that it? Do you think I'm worthless?
Lucy: No, I don't think that.
John: Am I disposable?
Lucy: Of course not.
John: Do you feel bad for me? 'Poor old John can't figure his life out'?
Lucy: Never.
John: Then why are you using me?
Lucy: I'm not.
John: I'm usually desperate enough to let you. I'm a beggar for you. When I see your face, I see wrinkles, and grey hair, and children who look like you... I can't help it.
[he sighs]
John: But as your friend... I would tell you it's a bad idea to be with a 37-year-old cater waiter who still has roommates. I would say... You definitely shouldn't marry a guy who has $2,000 in his bank account in a city he can't afford, who's only still there to keep trying to be a theatre actor because someone told him he was good at it once. So, where does that leave us? Here. At someone else's wedding. I can't give you the wedding or the marriage you want. I couldn't even give you the relationship you wanted. It's been years, and I still can't afford to be with you.
I strongly dislike crying this much during a movie because in that moment, I know there’s still work I need to do on myself.
Being human means we keep learning, growing, evolving, overcoming challenges and obstacles. Learning from past mistakes not just to avoid repeating them, but to create a cheat sheet we can pass on to the next generation, something that becomes our legacy.
Our lived experiences are one of the greatest legacies we leave behind.
I highly recommend watching Materialists.
Not for the romance, but to sit with yourself, and pay attention to what quietly stirs when the screen goes dark.
“That’s All” - Baby Rose
Materialists OST
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