Contains MAJOR SPOILERS for Season 3 of Raphael Bob-Waksberg’s BoJack Horseman (which I highly recommend, probably the best original show Netflix has alongside Aziz Ansari’s and Alan Yang’s Master of None and Cheo Hodari Coker's Marvel's Luke Cage).
Todd Chavez’s (voiced by Aaron Paul) words at the conclusion of BoJack’s junior season hit me hard. I identified with them more than I’d ever admitted to even myself. Or my friends and family.
Since sometimes I think I feel like I’m nothing. Maybe I am nothing. In terms of sexuality, I mean.
How a kiss does nothing for me. It never has. How the idea of kissing sounds horrible to me. How intimate contact isn’t wanted and when it rarely happens it is solely awkward for those involved. How romantic relationship simply don’t matter to me: strong friendships or strong familial ones do though. Todd’s hesitation when Emily asked if he liked anyone. Todd admitting to Emily inside a closet as Seven Minutes in Heaven is active that he’s never kissed before. More like Seven Minutes in Hell if I’d been in Todd’s place.
Hey Todd, I didn’t either, until 2007 either (the irony). During my second and final relationship. Said kissing was my first and last time.
After that, I had convinced (deceived) myself throughout the years that I had a crush on two other people. Ultimately, it wasn’t reciprocated and I felt like an idiot. Correction, a pathetic idiot. I’m pretty hard on myself: I don’t recommend it. I was someone that was unable to be normal. Or fit in with the crowd.
That genuinely hurt more than being rejected. I felt completely terrible for doing that to them. I wonder if they’d forgive me if they knew? …Or something like that. Little do I know then that through my surrendering and abandonment of dating following them, I was one step closer to the real me.
Since then, I’ve been content (there’s not much in my life I’m content about, so, that says something) about being single even though others have tried to set me up or whatever. My disinterest of dating is perceived through the lens of my previous relationships not working out instead of the fact I’m merely not interested. That is all is it y’all, sheesh. Which is quite exasperating after awhile… I don’t believe the intention was misguided or mean-spirited: they didn’t know like I didn’t.
My own reluctance to answering similar queries or being unable to wrap my head around such a concept. How he didn’t invite her into his room by making up ridiculous excuses. How dates I was on usually ended up at their house (which culminated in more conversations, nada further due to not deciphering hints or having any interest at all: perhaps an embrace goodnight, at the most).
How I’ve completely misunderstood potential desiring of a deeper more than friend connections from others because I have zero interest in it the first place. How it might be perceived as blowing someone off or flat-out indifferent rejection, when that’s nowhere close to the truth. In other cases, I’ve been called a “heart-breaker” even though I didn’t intentionally mean to be. In one instance, I dealt with accusations that I was the reason a romantic relationship between friends hadn’t worked. That it was my fault, somehow. Even when I tried to defend myself I wasn’t believed and thus connections I’d gained had to be torn asunder for awhile. I happened to be invited to the wrong place at the wrong time: that’s ultimately what was done.
How I felt extreme insecurity by not abiding to established normalcy. My lack of understanding that my choice I made was indeed fine and I didn’t need to feel ashamed or angry at myself. That thoughts of “What is wrong with me?!” and “Maybe I am a deviant…?” were unnecessary. How anything resembling arousal had to be forced and worked for: it wasn’t natural in the slightest. It shouldn’t of hurt. I shouldn’t of hurt myself to obtain what is considered healthy.
Like I’m totally blase to the mere thought of sex/relationships you know? Essentially, it never crosses my mind. My complete always disinterest in magazines with nudity in them, porn, intercourse, or strip clubs back in middle school (than later high school and forward) lead to me being cruelly ridiculed throughout my life. Labeled as gay using derogatory language. Labeled as not a man. Etc. Was it pure mockery or attempting to comprehend in their own manner? I wonder from time to time.
So, that makes me genderfluid, aromantic, and asexual it would seem. Throughout my nearly 30 year existence, I’ve let peer pressure, societal expectations, yearning for further acceptance, and fearing I’ll disappoint everyone, dictate who I am instead of being myself! The true me. The one I’ve never been.
NO MORE! I’m done with that! Never again.
Being genderfluid, aromantic, and asexual, doesn’t solely define me, but, I’m glad I’m not alone and I know. No one should have to be alone or clueless, ever. Thank you show creator Raphael Bob-Waksberg for penning the episode (”That Went Well”) this comes from and for accurately capturing a feeling I’ve had underneath the surface all of these years. Even if it wasn’t quite sure what it was at the time. Simply recognizing it seriously helps!
I wish I knew you in real life should I could shake your hand as I tears would likely be running down my cheeks. Maybe, I’d try to hug you, yet ultimately decide against it. That’s how I roll after all, heh. Someday, I’d sincerely like to encounter Raphael Bob-Waksberg. I desire for this to occur (likely won’t). His series has assisted with my depression and now this.
“That’s too much, man!” :’)
Looking very forward to Season 4!