We’re a married Singaporean couple writing about cross-cultural relationships because we’ve had to learn what it means to care for someone whose expectations differ from our own. Between us, we’ve lived and worked in London, Sydney and Melbourne, dated people of other nationalities, and built friendships across cultures. Back in Singapore, colleagues from Southeast Asia, India and China have shared their own stories of falling in love, getting things wrong and learning how to talk about what they need.
Those experiences give us a place to start. We’ve been inside some of the conversations we write about and listened to others describe theirs. We also know how easy it is to reach for a cultural explanation when the more revealing question is personal. What did affection look like in your home? When you say you want more time together, what would an ordinary Tuesday look like? What makes you feel desired, and how would I know?
This post introduces the people behind the Real Value SG series on cross-cultural romance, intimacy and relationships. It also explains how we’ll handle the stories, and why we think the awkward, everyday details are worth writing about.
London, Sydney and Melbourne gave us different points of reference
One of us spent three years working for a multinational company in London. The other spent two years working for multinationals across Sydney and Melbourne. Living overseas gave us a sustained look at how people build friendships and relationships around the same things that occupy most of adult life: work, weekends, family obligations and the effort of finding time for one another.
When you live somewhere for years, you get more chances to notice what you used to take for granted. How far ahead do you make plans with someone you’re seeing? When does an invitation to meet friends feel casual, and when does it signal that the relationship is getting serious? How directly do you say you’re disappointed when someone changes plans? Those questions matter because two people can read the same gesture differently and both feel that their reading is obvious.
Take a hypothetical example. One person says, “Let’s see how the weekend goes,” intending to keep Saturday free for an unhurried afternoon together. Their partner hears a vague suggestion and makes plans with friends. By Friday, one feels brushed aside and the other is genuinely surprised. The conversation gets more useful once they can say what each thought they’d agreed to. If one grew up in a household where an informal suggestion was as good as a promise, that helps explain why the misunderstanding stung.
Working overseas also gave us a reason to look back at our Singaporean assumptions. People often ask how to adapt to a partner’s culture. An equally interesting question is which of your own habits you would struggle to explain if someone asked why you do things that way. We bring both questions to the series because we’ve each spent time being the person who needed something explained.
We’ve dated across nationalities and married within our own
Before we married each other, both of us had relationships with people of other nationalities. We draw on those experiences when we write about how it feels to be the person learning a partner’s expectations while trying to explain your own. That exchange can be surprisingly hard when you’ve never had to put a preference into words. You may only discover how much it matters when the other person responds in a way you didn’t expect.
We ended up marrying a fellow Singaporean. That’s part of our story, and it gives us another perspective on the subject. A shared nationality tells you something about the places and references you have in common. There’s still plenty to learn about how each person’s family handled apologies, whether affection was shown openly, or what privacy means once you’re part of each other’s lives.
Imagine two Singaporeans deciding when to introduce each other to their families. To one, an invitation to Sunday lunch means there’s an extra seat at the table. To the other, it carries the weight of an announcement. If that second person hesitates, their partner might hear reluctance about the relationship when what they’re really worried about is the round of questions they expect over lunch. Even a small exchange about what the invitation means can reveal more than knowing where both people grew up.
That’s why we’ll write about family habits, personalities and life circumstances alongside nationality. A person might be comfortable discussing sex with a partner and deeply private about it around friends. Someone who gets on well with their in-laws might still want advance notice before a family visit. The combination can make perfect sense once you hear their reasons. It’s that combination, specific to the person and the relationship, that interests us.
Our colleagues and friends have broadened the conversation
After returning to Singapore, we both went on to work at major Southeast Asian technology companies. Our colleagues include people from across Southeast Asia, India and China. Outside work, we also have friends from many cultural backgrounds. Over time, colleagues have shared some of the trials and tribulations of their love lives, including the effort it took to recognise the ways a partner gave affection and to explain which gestures made them feel loved in return.
The conversations behind this series are personal. They’ve helped us hear questions we might otherwise have overlooked. What happens when the way you show care creates an obligation your partner never asked for? When does making room for family feel like generosity, and when does it feel like there’s no space left for the couple? How do you learn to appreciate a partner’s gestures while still asking for something that matters to you?
Here’s an illustrative scene. A partner takes over the errands on a busy Saturday, thinking they’ve made the weekend easier. Their other half appreciates the help but was hoping they’d spend the morning together. Both wanted to make the relationship feel cared for. One made time available and the other wanted time shared. There’s a good conversation to be had about what each person imagined the other would value.
That’s how we find the idea of love languages most useful. It gives us a way to ask about words, time, practical help, gifts and touch without having to start from scratch. We’ll spend more time on the gesture and the moment than on assigning anyone a type. A person who likes thoughtful messages during the workday might want company after bad news. The same person might feel most cared for when a partner quietly sorts out dinner after a long shift. The relationship becomes easier to write about, and more recognisable, when we can show the context.
Why we’ll talk plainly about touch and intercourse
Physical affection can carry a great deal of meaning for people who grew up around touch or who have come to value it in adult relationships. A hand on the shoulder might mean “I’m here”. A kiss at the door might matter because it’s a small moment of attention before both people go back to the demands of the day. Even partners who both enjoy touch can have different feelings about being affectionate around relatives, in public, or when one of them has just come home exhausted.
We’ll also write directly about intercourse. For couples who value it, mutually wanted sex can be an important way to sustain desire, pleasure and closeness over time. It deserves the same care in conversation as money, family or plans for the future. That includes being able to say what you enjoy, ask what your partner likes, and hear “I’d rather just cuddle tonight” without requiring them to defend the answer.
Consider a fictional couple winding down after a long week. One reaches for the other because they want a quiet moment together. Their partner reads that touch as an invitation to sex. They could both go silent, one feeling misunderstood and the other feeling rejected, even though there was affection in the original gesture. The words “I’d love you to hold me for a while” make room for the closeness that was wanted. A separate conversation about how each person likes to initiate sex could make the next invitation easier to recognise and easier to answer honestly.
Those are the nuances we mean when we talk about culture and intimacy. What language feels natural when you ask for something vulnerable? Did you grow up with the idea that desire should be spoken about directly, or that the other person should pick up on hints? Can you talk about how often you’d like sex without turning the answer into an expectation? The answers belong to the people in the relationship. A partner’s background may help explain why a conversation feels easy or awkward. Each person still gets to say what they want, what they’re comfortable with and when they want to stop.
How we’ll earn your trust as writers
Our authority comes from the perspective we can account for. We can tell you what it’s like to spend years working abroad, return to Singapore and hear a wider range of relationship experiences through work and friendship. We can write about the questions that arise when you date across cultures, and about what a shared background does and doesn’t tell you when you marry. That’s the perspective of two people who have lived these parts of the story.
When we use a scene to illustrate an idea, we’ll label it as an example, as we’ve done here. We’ll keep friends, colleagues and former partners’ private experiences private. Their confidence in us has shaped the questions we ask, and it’s part of our responsibility to write in a way that protects it. When a later post makes a claim that calls for expertise, such as a sexual-health question, we’ll draw on qualified sources and make clear where that information comes from.
We’ll also try to write situations in a way that lets you see both people. A person asking for more time together may be missing their partner. The person asking for more time alone may be trying to recover enough energy to be present later. We want to take both accounts seriously. You should be able to recognise something in our examples even if your background or relationship looks very different from ours.
The infographics we’ve created are part of that editorial approach. A visual can help someone find the words for an idea they’ve been circling around. The articles give us space to show why the words might land differently depending on who’s saying them, what happened beforehand and what each person hopes will happen next. We’ll use both formats to make the subject easier to talk about.
The Real Value of writing this series from Singapore
Singapore is where we came home to, where we married and where many of the conversations behind this series took place. It’s the place from which we’ve learnt to ask how much of an expectation comes from culture, how much from family, and how much from the way one particular person wants to be loved. Our years overseas, our previous relationships and the stories people have trusted us with give us different ways into that question.
If you’re reading the series with a partner, pick a moment you each understood differently. Ask them what they thought was happening before you explain what you thought. We write from experience because we know how much that second account can add to the first. That’s what we hope to offer at Real Value SG: a place to start the conversation and enough detail to make it worth having.
Frequently Asked Questions
What qualifies the Real Value SG authors to write about cross-cultural relationships?
We’re a married Singaporean couple with firsthand experience of dating across nationalities and living and working overseas. One of us spent three years in London, and the other spent two years across Sydney and Melbourne. Our friendships and conversations with colleagues in Singapore give us additional perspectives. We write as people sharing lived experience and draw on qualified sources when a subject calls for specialist expertise.
Will the series explain how people from specific cultures behave in relationships?
We’ll discuss how cultural and family expectations can shape dating, affection and intimacy. We’ll also show how preferences vary between individuals who share a background. The aim is to help readers ask more precise questions about their own relationships.
Will the series discuss intercourse as well as emotional intimacy?
Yes. We’ll discuss how mutually wanted intercourse can help couples who value it sustain passion and closeness. We’ll also cover how partners talk about desire, initiation, comfort and boundaries, including when they want different kinds of affection at the same time.
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