Aaaaaah, I have so much to say and I want to say it all, but I have to sleep, but I really wanted to write my thoughts now, because whenever I put this sort of stuff off it always ends up being worse for it by the time I do end up writing it, if indeed that ever happens, so here I go.
Okay, so I’ve been thinking a lot about my sexual/romantic orientation for a while, now- pretty much since the beginning of this school year, and, for whatever reason, it wasn’t until recently that I really understood that one’s sexual orientation and romantic orientation don’t have to be one in the same. Subsequently, earlier on in the year I felt like there *had* to be a better word for my sexuality than pansexual, since I was tacking on my romantic orientation, and treating them like one big stew I was trying to find a name for, but since I now realize romantic and sexual orientation are two separate things, I feel a whole lot less uncomfortable with the term pansexual, since that definitely is the best term to describe my sexuality.
My romantic orientation, on the other hand, is a bit of a quandary, and that’s why I’m writing this blog post. I’ve been pondering upon what romance means to me, ever since I accidentally came out to my Grandma; she was comparatively respectful, very sweet and, best of all, in my opinion, extremely curious about my experience as a queer person, and with that came a multitude of questions about my feelings about romance.
She and my mum both seem entirely set on me settling down at some point, having a longterm stable partner, whom I must marry, and a multitude of children, preferably biologically. Their aspirations for my life do not align with my own, and although I’ve mentioned that to the both of them, putting it into the terms of me being a “career girl”, latching onto the stereotypical imagery of a confident passionate woman, briskly and confidently striding through the bustling city with a heart teeming with motivation. That sort of thing appeals to me, though I know that’s perhaps as unrealistically picture perfect as the perfect nuclear family boxed within a white picket fence and suburban neighborhood. Nevertheless, my mum and grandma both seem set on wanting what they want for me. My mum keeps giddily reminding me that most people meet their spouses in college, or at least when they’re college-aged, and seems to be keeping her fingers crossed for me. She also, after we saw ‘Hedwig and the Angry Inch’ told me she prays I meet my soulmate someday, which resulted in me having a knee-jerk squicky reaction to, since, to me, ‘The Origin of Love’ as an expectation for romantic love is inherently unattainable, and in my interpretation, the show itself proves that.
Going directly off that, there’s a quote by John Cameron Mitchell that I adore (there are actually *many*, but this one is relevant) about ’The Origin of Love’ which goes like this, “It’s like the yearning is more important than the possibility.” I bring this up, not only because I can reference Hedwig/quote John Cameron Mitchell, but because that is actually a good way to describe how I personally feel about romance.
I found out about the word lithromantic from a friend of mine who critiqued my Hedwig Admission Essay; she told me she feels the same way about Hedwig as I do, because Hedwig and the Angry Inch is what gave her strength/courage to better understand her queerness recognize herself as being asexual and lithromantic. When she told me about her experience, this was the first I had ever heard about lithromanticism, so I went on to look up the term.
Lithromantic is defined by the Aromantics Wiki as “An orientation in which one can feel a romantic attraction towards others and also enjoy romantic relationships in theory, but not needing that affection to be reciprocated or be in a relationship with the one the feelings are directed towards. Either that, or they may stop feeling the attraction once in a relationship or stop enjoying it.” which goes right back to the John Cameron Mitchell quote, “It’s like the yearning is more important than the possibility.”
So for me, I feel like I might be Lithromantic, though I’m still questioning. In every romantic relationship I’ve had thus far, I’ve felt so much more comfortable with the prospect of the relationship than the relationship itself. Other definitions of the word mention that a lithromantic person may feel drastically uncomfortable when greeted with romantic gestures, and it’s strange, since although I’m a drastically sappy person who gets all mushy and excited over fictional OTPs and real life cute couples, in my past relationships whenever my partners would do things seen as stereotypically charming romantic gestures, it always felt to me like they were being sycophantic and insincere, and just made me feel entirely uncomfortable.
So by that account, one might think I’m unmistakably lithromantic given the definition, but the muddle I find myself in is that, since my range of romantic experience is limited to relationships with cisgender males (both of who, looking back on it, I don’t think of as particularly admirable people) it makes me wonder if, perhaps my adamant aversion is due to the past experiences being no good. And from that, too, comes the quandary that, in regards to thinking about romantic relationships in theory, the ones that seem nice for me in my imagination, are relationships with people other than cis males.
I co-wrote a play for my theatre class last semester in which my character had a monologue about feeling preemptively defensive towards white cisgender males due to the victims and body-counts that result from their collective privilege, and I would be lying if I said it wasn’t written semi-autobiographically. Because of that, I have this instinctual feeling that a romantic relationship with a cis male would be far more dangerous for me, both physically and emotionally, than it would be with a person of another gender. And I know that’s likely an erroneous assumption, but I like to trust my gut about these sorts of things. So that, I suppose, narrows down my potential lithromanticism(?) to people who aren’t cis males.
Though, the question arises, since I’ve never been in a romantic relationship with anyone other than cis males, would I feel more comfortable with a romantic relationship in practice if it were with a person of some other gender? I don’t know, but it definitely feels more comfortable for me in theory.
And this leaves me with yet another unanswered question- so if lithromantics are generally put off by romance in practice when they’re involved, then why is it that I feel so comfortable with commitment-free romantic things, because I definitely do. I write tons of *love* poems to people I adore but know would never in a million years want to date me (and it’s not a matter of “out of my league” or whatever, more of a matter of incompatible orientations, or the fact that the people are: A. fictional, B. dead, C. unaware of my existence), and for me, a lot of the happiness I get from writing these poems is knowing I don’t have to worry about the people I’ve written them for expecting a relationship from me, nor would I ever expect (or necessarily hope for) a relationship with them, I just like having crushes of sorts to write poems about. I also have definitely done intentionally romantic sorts of things with people with whom I have an understanding that nothing real will come of it.
Because, for me, relationships seem like more hassle than they’re worth, albeit based on my limited past experience. It’s just like, “Pssh- I don’t want to put effort into that- why would I want to fuss with domesticity and having to deal with someone else’s expectations and demands of me?”
But then I get little bursts of “Oh, but wouldn’t it be cool if I did have kids someday and someone to help me raise them, I mean, Neil Patrick Harris is super cute with his family, and he seems like one of the most ambitious people I know of- having a family didn’t keep him from doing Hedwig, and that’s one of the most demanding roles there is- yet he goes home and orchestrates cute collaborative halloween costumes, and continues on fathering and husbanding marvelously- look at him, having it all- what if that were a possibility? Maybe? I don’t know…”
I don’t know. All I know is that I’m listening to ‘Company’, since it seems apropos, and still trying to figure out: Am I lithromantic?
Okay, so I’ve been thinking a lot about my sexual/romantic orientation for a while, now- pretty much since the beginning of this school year, and, for whatever reason, it wasn’t until recently that I really understood that one’s sexual orientation and romantic orientation don’t have to be one in the same. Subsequently, earlier on in the year I felt like there *had* to be a better word for my sexuality than pansexual, since I was tacking on my romantic orientation, and treating them like one big stew I was trying to find a name for, but since I now realize romantic and sexual orientation are two separate things, I feel a whole lot less uncomfortable with the term pansexual, since that definitely is the best term to describe my sexuality.
My romantic orientation, on the other hand, is a bit of a quandary, and that’s why I’m writing this blog post. I’ve been pondering upon what romance means to me, ever since I accidentally came out to my Grandma; she was comparatively respectful, very sweet and, best of all, in my opinion, extremely curious about my experience as a queer person, and with that came a multitude of questions about my feelings about romance.
She and my mum both seem entirely set on me settling down at some point, having a longterm stable partner, whom I must marry, and a multitude of children, preferably biologically. Their aspirations for my life do not align with my own, and although I’ve mentioned that to the both of them, putting it into the terms of me being a “career girl”, latching onto the stereotypical imagery of a confident passionate woman, briskly and confidently striding through the bustling city with a heart teeming with motivation. That sort of thing appeals to me, though I know that’s perhaps as unrealistically picture perfect as the perfect nuclear family boxed within a white picket fence and suburban neighborhood. Nevertheless, my mum and grandma both seem set on wanting what they want for me. My mum keeps giddily reminding me that most people meet their spouses in college, or at least when they’re college-aged, and seems to be keeping her fingers crossed for me. She also, after we saw ‘Hedwig and the Angry Inch’ told me she prays I meet my soulmate someday, which resulted in me having a knee-jerk squicky reaction to, since, to me, ‘The Origin of Love’ as an expectation for romantic love is inherently unattainable, and in my interpretation, the show itself proves that.
Going directly off that, there’s a quote by John Cameron Mitchell that I adore (there are actually *many*, but this one is relevant) about ’The Origin of Love’ which goes like this, “It’s like the yearning is more important than the possibility.” I bring this up, not only because I can reference Hedwig/quote John Cameron Mitchell, but because that is actually a good way to describe how I personally feel about romance.
I found out about the word lithromantic from a friend of mine who critiqued my Hedwig Admission Essay; she told me she feels the same way about Hedwig as I do, because Hedwig and the Angry Inch is what gave her strength/courage to better understand her queerness recognize herself as being asexual and lithromantic. When she told me about her experience, this was the first I had ever heard about lithromanticism, so I went on to look up the term.
Lithromantic is defined by the Aromantics Wiki as “An orientation in which one can feel a romantic attraction towards others and also enjoy romantic relationships in theory, but not needing that affection to be reciprocated or be in a relationship with the one the feelings are directed towards. Either that, or they may stop feeling the attraction once in a relationship or stop enjoying it.” which goes right back to the John Cameron Mitchell quote, “It’s like the yearning is more important than the possibility.”
So for me, I feel like I might be Lithromantic, though I’m still questioning. In every romantic relationship I’ve had thus far, I’ve felt so much more comfortable with the prospect of the relationship than the relationship itself. Other definitions of the word mention that a lithromantic person may feel drastically uncomfortable when greeted with romantic gestures, and it’s strange, since although I’m a drastically sappy person who gets all mushy and excited over fictional OTPs and real life cute couples, in my past relationships whenever my partners would do things seen as stereotypically charming romantic gestures, it always felt to me like they were being sycophantic and insincere, and just made me feel entirely uncomfortable.
So by that account, one might think I’m unmistakably lithromantic given the definition, but the muddle I find myself in is that, since my range of romantic experience is limited to relationships with cisgender males (both of who, looking back on it, I don’t think of as particularly admirable people) it makes me wonder if, perhaps my adamant aversion is due to the past experiences being no good. And from that, too, comes the quandary that, in regards to thinking about romantic relationships in theory, the ones that seem nice for me in my imagination, are relationships with people other than cis males.
I co-wrote a play for my theatre class last semester in which my character had a monologue about feeling preemptively defensive towards white cisgender males due to the victims and body-counts that result from their collective privilege, and I would be lying if I said it wasn’t written semi-autobiographically. Because of that, I have this instinctual feeling that a romantic relationship with a cis male would be far more dangerous for me, both physically and emotionally, than it would be with a person of another gender. And I know that’s likely an erroneous assumption, but I like to trust my gut about these sorts of things. So that, I suppose, narrows down my potential lithromanticism(?) to people who aren’t cis males.
Though, the question arises, since I’ve never been in a romantic relationship with anyone other than cis males, would I feel more comfortable with a romantic relationship in practice if it were with a person of some other gender? I don’t know, but it definitely feels more comfortable for me in theory.
And this leaves me with yet another unanswered question- so if lithromantics are generally put off by romance in practice when they’re involved, then why is it that I feel so comfortable with commitment-free romantic things, because I definitely do. I write tons of *love* poems to people I adore but know would never in a million years want to date me (and it’s not a matter of “out of my league” or whatever, more of a matter of incompatible orientations, or the fact that the people are: A. fictional, B. dead, C. unaware of my existence), and for me, a lot of the happiness I get from writing these poems is knowing I don’t have to worry about the people I’ve written them for expecting a relationship from me, nor would I ever expect (or necessarily hope for) a relationship with them, I just like having crushes of sorts to write poems about. I also have definitely done intentionally romantic sorts of things with people with whom I have an understanding that nothing real will come of it.
Because, for me, relationships seem like more hassle than they’re worth, albeit based on my limited past experience. It’s just like, “Pssh- I don’t want to put effort into that- why would I want to fuss with domesticity and having to deal with someone else’s expectations and demands of me?”
But then I get little bursts of “Oh, but wouldn’t it be cool if I did have kids someday and someone to help me raise them, I mean, Neil Patrick Harris is super cute with his family, and he seems like one of the most ambitious people I know of- having a family didn’t keep him from doing Hedwig, and that’s one of the most demanding roles there is- yet he goes home and orchestrates cute collaborative halloween costumes, and continues on fathering and husbanding marvelously- look at him, having it all- what if that were a possibility? Maybe? I don’t know…”
I don’t know. All I know is that I’m listening to ‘Company’, since it seems apropos, and still trying to figure out: Am I lithromantic?
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