Vicarious Romance

I read romantic fiction. I watch romantic dramas. I listen to love songs and sometimes sing along . These are the moments when I’m almost convinced that I experience romance just like everyone else. Except that, I don’t. Romantic attraction is unfamiliar to me as an aromantic person.

Being aromantic feels terribly alienating. Romance is widely celebrated across cultures. Even the arts, a source that outcasts seek comfort from, turns its back on the aromantic community – the media is saturated with romance. In our teens, we are labelled as late bloomers who are too childish and naïve to understand “love”. As we reach adulthood, harsher words are hurled our way: cold-hearted, aloof, and cynical. Worse still, both society and the arts have taught us from a young age that romance is intrinsic to humanity. We see this cliché in fiction with protagonists sharing a unified character arc: in the beginning of the story, they are convinced that they do not need love; but by the end, they have inevitably fallen under the charm of romance. These stories are about embracing your inner ‘desires’ and acknowledging that deep down, we all crave romantic love. But for aromantic youth, they often make us feel damaged, forever doomed trying desperately to fix ourselves. Our true aromantic self in reality looks like an imperfect version. How ironic.

How, then, can an aromantic person ever indulge in a trope like this?

First, I will clarify that not ALL aromantic people enjoy vicarious romance. Just like asexual people, aromantic individuals can have a range of different feelings towards romance. The following paragraphs speak from one particular perspective and use aromantic as an umbrella term. If you’d like a more specific label, ‘aegoromantic’ may be what you are looking for.

Nowadays, we are no strangers to living vicariously through others. TV and social media provide us with an abundance of materials that can be adapted in our own fantasies. Vicarious romance hardly differs. The nuance, however, lies in the fact that while alloromantic (non-aromantic) people watch romantic scenes to experience something they do not have, yet crave, aromantic people watch them to experience a sense of ‘normalcy’. Instead of reimagining ourselves as the characters, an aromantic person assumes the character’s pointof-view so that we can understand romance objectively. We learn to make sense of romance, not in the way of roses symbolising romantic passion, but in understanding how romantic attraction manifests both psychologically (thanks to impassioned monologues) and physically.

By Skye XIE (she/her)

Too abstract? Here is an example. Imagine that you have never liked burgers. Since everyone else is talking about how burgers are amazing, how they love burgers, and how we ‘all’ crave burgers, you find that you must understand this yearning for burgers to blend in. So, you read a piece on one’s desire and eventual acquisition of a burger. Going through the story, you learn that when they think about a burger, they are thinking about the soft, buttered brioche buns, the juicy patties, the dripping cheese and sauce, the crunchy lettuces, and so on. You also begin to recognise how they would eye the sizzling burger on the grill and strategically approach the counter, what words they would use to communicate their desire for it, and how this interaction would proceed. By the end of it, you still don’t want a burger, but at least now you understand how others may enjoy it.

To an aromantic person, the burger is romance.

The significance of such an experience is twofold. First, the lessons are useful in everyday life. Aromantic people can often feel clueless in social situations where romantic interest is expressed. Since we generally do not experience romantic attraction, awkward situations usually unfold. Being more informed on the subject allows us to better recognise such signs and avoid misunderstandings.

What’s more pertinent to the aromantic community, however, is that the consumption of romance is a remedy to the very harm it caused in the past. When we are young, we absorb everything that is taught to us and regard them as truth. But as we grow up, we develop the ability to interpret and repurpose a text for our own gratification. Instead of letting the text tell us that we are broken or lacking, we are able to recognise that the message is just not for us and allow ourselves to enjoy the content from a different perspective. Empowerment is thus obtained in the process of facing past trauma and overcoming it – even finding enjoyment in it.

It would be ideal to have aromantic representation in media so that younger generations no longer have to go through this journey of self-healing. But in the meantime, I don’t mind sitting down to watch a romantic film in the cinema or picking up a romance novel in my free time.