You know what we don’t talk about enough in the aromantic community? That moment after you accept yourself as aromantic whre you suddenly realize that you have no goals.
Like sure maybe professional goals and stuff, but personal goals? It feels like everyone else has a plan. Like they’re all going to get married by 25 and have kids by 30 etc. and you don’t have any. You’re future is suddenly feeling very empty, because even though you didn’t necessarily want that future, at least it was a plan.
A plan that revolved around having someone who loved you unconditionally and promised never to leave you.
And now that you’ve realized that that promise comes with stuff you might not want, and the whole idea is scrapped, well your future suddenly starts to look very, very lonely.
Category: aromanticism
chaotic-carnifex:You know, if I had to describe my experience as an aromantic in one word, I think…
You know, if I had to describe my experience as an aromantic in one word, I think I’d go with “alienating”. Let me explain:
Imagine you’re aro and watching TV. There some kind of SciFi show on and they are debating the personhood of an AI.
The AI shows curiosity and a thirst for knowledge. They have desires. They have strengths and weaknesses. None of this convinces the doubters.
The AI makes friends. They take up hobbies. They talk about their hopes and dreams for the future. Surely this is enough to relate to them as a person? It’s not.
The AI is shown to fall in love. This is framed as the ultimate proof, the one thing that must humanize them even to the staunchest denier of their personhood or else that person is irredeemable.
You change the channel.
There’s a children’s cartoon on. “What is this?!” the villain cries, pointing at a couple. Their inability to understand the romantic love between those two is framed as stemming from the fact that somebody so deeply evil simply cannot understand something as pure and good as romantic love.
You change the channel.
There’s a sitcom on. Two characters are discussing a third character. “He’s really not that weird,” says one character. “He hasn’t been in a relationship for [x] years!” the other refutes. Cue the laugh track. The implication is clear: If he’s not in a relationship, it must be because he’s too weird.
You change the channel.
There’s a Christmas movie on. The main character is a successful businesswoman. She’s shown talking to her friends and family regularly. “You need a man,” her mother says as they bake together. The daughter denies this. The rest of the movie is all about proving the mother right, as suddenly her career, her friends and her family are framed as not being enough for her to lead a fulfilling life.
You change the channel.
It’s some show aimed at young teens and tweens. “Ew,” one character comments as the idea of them having a significant other one day is brought up. This is treated as a sign of their immaturity.
You turn off the TV.
Your experiences aren’t enough to humanize a non-human character. You’re the villain. You’re a weirdo. Your life is incomplete. You’re immature.
You’re tired.
There’s a reason it was an aro who coined the term voidpunk.