Max Verstappen was many things.

A menace on track.
Four-time World Champion.
The Dutch Lion.
Mad Max.

He was not, according to the collective belief of the Formula 1 grid, a man who dated.

If you asked Daniel Ricciardo, he’d tell you Max was married to his simulator rig.
Lando Norris was convinced Max’s true love language was tyre degradation data.
Charles Leclerc assumed Max slept, ate, and breathed lap times.
George Russell once earnestly said, “I don’t think Max experiences romance.”

Max did nothing to correct them.

He simply existed.