Out of all the seven people I've come out with, only two didn't tell me that I "still might experience it someday", or brushed me off completely.
Growing up, I used to think, ah, one day I'll be normal and find a crush. But for the past twenty years, there's literally no one. Each time I thought I'm actually having one, I realize there's a particular reason why I am attracted to them. And it's not about romance.
People in the arospec community doesn't experience the same bigotry and discrimination as the other members of LGBTQAA+ but that doesn't mean we don't experience it in our own ways.
Imagine not being part of all of histories and not "existing" in books and research journals at all. Because romance has and must always be a part of an individual's life, even when it doesn't really have to be like that. It was only until very recently that people started to notice the existence of the arospec community.
And it was only until recently that I've realize I am part of that community.
When I realized I was one, I was very confused. But just like what they said, I am allowed to use whatever "label" makes me feel comfortable. But at first, even when I identified as aromantic, I felt like it doesn't really suit me at all.
Just like a whole bunch of people from the aromantic spectrum, I wasn't exactly romance repulsed. And being aromantic or being part of the arospec doesn't exactly mean being repulsed by romance. It just simply mean that we don't experience it. I don't like romance for myself but I enjoy a good book about it. I like the idea of falling and being in love and wished for it to happen to myself, especially since everyone keeps on telling me I'm missing something out.
I write about romance. I read about romance. I live and breathed romance in more ways than I could count. And I still identify as aromantic.
Not very long time ago, I realized I was "crushing" hard on someone. But I got confused knowing I don't really experience it the way most people do. I know I am very attracted to that person, but something doesn't quite fit.
I'm attracted. But not romantically attracted. I like him, but I don't like him THAT way. I don't love him, but the idea of loving doesn't feel so wrong. I could love him, just as intensely as normal people in relationship would. But I still wouldn't call it romance because it's not.
I see it as a potentially strong feeling. I love the idea of love but finds it very confusing on how to deal with it, since I don't feel it the way most people expect me to. And I've been telling people that but they've brushed me off so many times that I decided to let them think what they want to think.
But recent events made me want to make people understand. We have to be out there in order to be OUT there. People has to know there's nothing wrong with us. With me. And the way we love, or the way we choose to.
Being aromantic means having very little to zero romantic attraction. And the spectrum is quite a long list to be discussing about it. But we all have one common ground and people has to learn dealing with that.
Personally, I am an aro who is not 100% repulsed by romance, and there are so many of us out there and that doesn't mean we're any less of an aro. I am very much into someone but I don't know how to make people understand about it. I like him as a person, as a breathing and living creature. I am so into the idea of him that I even believe I couldn't like anyone as much as I did with him. Even I couldn't believe how strongly I feel about this person. But I am done confusing it for romance, though it could be. But the way that it makes sense to me, it isn't. The feelings are just what they are. I like him. I am into him. I feel connected to him. I dream about being with him. Heck, I COULD love him. Just not romantically.
Can people love without being in love? Why are we so obsessed about romance anyway? Sure, it's lovely to think about it, but for people like me, it doesn't quite make sense. We value love differently. We don't abuse it the way some people do. We love our family, our friends, our pets... and we just... love. Aren't people allowed to JUST love without assuming everything is about romance?
I can't offer a really structured definition of this phenomenon, or so, I'd call it like that. Because it's a phenomenon and people experience it differently.
The beauty of it was that we are free to do so. Because it's not a rigid thing. Things could change because people change. I could be identifying as an aromantic right now, and not because I chose to, but might realize that I no longer do later (also not because I choose to). It's not something we decide on, much like every member of the LGBTQ+ does. We just are. We could be jumping from one label to another and that was totally fine because I believe that people are innately lost and we are allowed to find ourselves, regardless of what people has to say.
We don't have to imprison ourselves to labels that could put us into pedestal. Labels shouldn't be an obligation. It should be what makes sense to us. It should be what we realize is true for ourselves, and not what the society think is true for us.
Because, honestly, it's sad how the society would tell us that we are free to love anyone in ways we want to, and yet question our way of loving, just because it's not "romantic".
The Table at the Library (the very last one on the right wing of the library, the one near the window)
People rarely studies in this area. Probably because it was too secluded. And the fact that there are stories going around that a ghost lives here. They weren’t wrong about the ghost part. But they were wrong about certain things. Ghosts live here. But they were the kind of ghosts that no one actually sees. Except from me. Because those ghosts were stories. Stories of people. That must be forgotten. Stories that will haunt a lot of people’s lives. And stories that not many people (or things) may know. But I am not most things (and definitely not most people).
A lot of love stories ended here. But a love story that is just about to happen… well that’s new. Not so new but definitely new. Or maybe because it was just rare. But whatever. I know it’s a love story. I just do.
The boy left the moment that the girl arrived. It was as if he’s on hurry. And the girl may not have noticed it but I definitely did. I notice a lot of things. His face flushed red when she asked if she could share the table with him and not even a second later, he replied yes. Then left. Just like that. Maybe if I have a mouth (and a voice box), I would’ve yelled at him.
The Rilakkuma Pen Topper
A boy picked me up. Familiar. I think he’s in my owner’s class. At least one of her classes. Two days have passed and he still has me. I know for a fact that he’s going to return me. I just don’t know when. I also know that he was just (so) shy to talk to her (in which he doesn’t have any reasons why because she’s so nice). Besides, she looks at him a lot. When he wasn’t looking. So I guess she wouldn’t mind if he’ll talk to her. Well, only if he will.
The Professor’s Desk (in Miss Wong’s lecture room)
I really don’t know with these two. They just keep on… looking at each other. But only when the other one isn’t looking. I never really noticed it until two weeks ago. And I wouldn’t have really cared. I’ve witnessed so many things like this in the past. But these two made me curious about them. Really curious.
“So,” Miss Wong grinned, “Who can answer my question?”
I saw the boy look at Miss Wong. He definitely knows the answer. I can tell by his eyes. But he’s one of those kids who refuse to speak up in class. So the girl raised her hand, his gaze instantly turned to her direction.
“Miss,” she started off with confidence, “An individual with Bipolar I at least had one manic episode plus any number, or none at all, of major depressive episode whilst an individual with Bipolar II had at least one hypomanic episode and one major depressive episode.”
“Good job, Wendy.” Miss Wong smiled. She likes the girl a lot. “Now can anyone tell me the difference between a manic episode and a hypomanic episode?”
The class went on and the continued with their game. They’re sickeningly cute. I hope he’ll have the courage to talk to her one day. Because it seems like he really wanted to. For now, I will give up. Maybe today isn’t the right day.
Or not.
“Okay so,” Miss Wong has her usual glint in her eyes, “I’ll be sending you guys case studies and you’ll have to diagnose each of them. With full criteria. Use your DSM-5, okay? Tell me your reasons and everything. There’ll be 11 cases and I want you to work in pairs. The case studies will be about mood and anxiety disorders.”
The students started to complain because: 1st: 11 case studies; and 2nd: they have to work in pairs. Because with Miss Wong, working in pairs doesn’t mean that you’ll get to choose your partner. It’s always draw lots. Always.
“It’s a homework so you’ll have to pass it meeting,” next meeting means next week because… “But don’t worry because I won’t be around on Friday. I have a conference to attend.” That cheered the students up. A little. “You can send it to me an hour before our class and in class, we’ll be discussing all the cases. In detail.”
“That means…?”
“Yes. Oral recitation.” Miss Wong replied. She gives a lot of works to the students. But she’s a good professor. “And your grade will be composed of you and your partner’s grade. Make sure to study.”
Miss Wong asked them to write their names on a piece of paper then she put it inside a hatbox. When everyone’s done, she immediately picked up two pieces of paper from the hatbox.
“For our first pair, it’s—”
Guess whose names were written in there.
Miss Wong’s Hatbox (a really old hatbox)
“Wendy,” then Miss Wong had a hard time opening the second piece of paper because it was folded so many times, “And Mark.”
Their eyes immediately bulged. Interesting. This isn’t the first time that friendship is made because of me. Or more than that.
The Professor’s Desk (the same desk)
When Miss Wong dismissed the class, the girl and the boy didn’t leave the room. They stood there awkwardly staring at each other.
But she tried composing herself (because she’s good at that) and he tried putting on a neutral face (because that’s his forte). “So we’ll have to work together, huh?” if I have hands, I would’ve pat her back.
“Uh, y-yeah. I guess.”
“I’m Wendy, by the way.” Her smile is so wide that it’s almost scary because her face looks like it might rip off. She extended her hand and he reached for it.
“I… know.” He cleared his throat. “I mean, I’m Mark.”
“I know that, too. I just want to introduce myself to you properly.”
He remained quiet. Because that’s how he usually is. “Uh…”
“Do you mind if we’ll work about the homework together? Like… together together. Not just through email whatsoever.”
“I..I don’t. It’s totally fine.”
“Okay.”
“So… can I—when are we going to start working?”
“I’m free on Saturday. Whole day.”
“Me too.”
“So Saturday?”
“Yea.”
“Starbucks?” she tried thinking of some other coffee shops but Starbucks seemed to be the most casual.
“Sure. What time?”
“10am?”
“10am.”
“O…kay. See you, then?” she flashed him yet another smile and I could’ve sworn he almost melted. Like a chocolate on a child’s fingers.
He returned her smile with his very own. And she wanted to stare at his smile because he’s got a beautiful one.
She started to walk out of the room when he called her name.
The Rilakkuma Pen Topper (the very same one)
“W-wendy!” just how slow this person is? He almost melted when she smiled. Just imagine them kissing… he might actually die.
I can tell that she didn’t expect that.
“Yes?” she looks confused. And she probably looks too cute for her own good because this boy’s ears flushed again.
“I think this is yours.” And he handed me back to my owner.
“O…oh. How did you—?”
“I saw you use it before but I think you kind of lost it. I saw it resting on the floor so I picked it up. I wanted to return it to you long time ago but I was too shy to talk to you.” One thing I’ve noticed about him: he babbles when he’s nervous. And he just did.
I don’t know whether I should feel bad for him or what. But my owner is too cool for everything. So instead of embarrassing him even more, she gave him (yet another) a smile. “Thank you for picking it up.”
“No problem.”
The Trash Bin at Starbucks (near the counter)
I’ve seen these two in this place so many times. I’ve seen these two in this place so many times but they were always away from each other. But I’ve never seen them share the same table before.
What an interesting sight. And they’re seem to be working on something right now.
“No, Wendy. It’s Agoraphobia.”
“GAD.”
“Agoraphobia.”
“Read it again.”
“Read it again, too.”
“O…kay.” And they did. When they’re done, the girl’s face is kind of… not in its usual form. “You’re right. It’s agoraphobia.”
“She mentioned about being uncomfortable in doing things. But she especially mentioned about riding the train and bus and being in enclosed spaces.” I don’t know who ‘she’ is but ‘she’ must have some problems.
After 10 hours, they left the coffee shop. Together.
The Girl’s Bag
She smiles a lot. That’s a fact. But she’s practically beaming right now. And it’s because of the boy she may or may not like.
“Thanks for the dinner.”
“No problem.”
“So…” she wanted to squeal, I can tell. “It was a good day.”
“It was.” This boy is too quiet for her. But I guess he balances her out. “Can I walk you home?” then she blushed.
“If it’s not out of your way then it’s fine.”
“Even if it is, it is totally fine.” and her heart turned into puddle. “I-I mean, I don’t want to go back on my dormitory. At least not yet. It’s quite loud in there.”
“O-okay.”
“So?” she looks so confused. He laughed. “Lead the way.”
And she did.
He really did walked her home. And it made her happy. I can tell. Because even though she’s already lying on her bed, she’s still smiling a lot. I don’t think I have to be concerned. At least not yet.
The Table at the Library (the very same one; also, the one that witnessed the boy blushing because of her)
I was right. I definitely am. They’re a love story. Yes. That boy and that girl. They’re not haunting. But somehow, in a way, they must’ve haunted each other down.
Because now they’re sitting right across from each other. And they were both grinning so wide they could be the light in this (very) dim part of the library.
“I’m just so relieved that we’ve got high grades.”
“Were you worried I’ll be the cause of the downfall of your perfect grades?”
“Not really. I was just worried. In general.”
“Don’t be. You know you’re smart.”
“I don’t think I should say yes or thank you with that statement because I will sound like a tool.”
“You aren’t. And that’s a compliment.”
“Thank you, Mark.” This time, she blushed. And he noticed it, too. Funny because it kind of made him blush, too. “We work well as a team. Next time we’ll have another homework, the way Miss Wong would call it, I hope we’ll be picked together again.”
“Me too.”
“No, seriously, man. We work so well.”
“Maybe.”
“Why maybe?”
“Hmmhm, I mean, yes. We do.”
“I hope I’ll be able to work with you in the future, too.”
“Maybe we can do that.”
“Great!” I imagine her shooting sunbeams right now. “That’ll be really great. Thanks for your cooperation.”
“Y…yeah.” Then they fell silent. And then he broke it. Which is rare. “I think it’ll be easier if…”
“If?”
“N…nothing. And you should go. You’ll be late and you don’t want that.”
“Oh man, you’re right. I’ll talk to you later. See you!” she stood up and walked away.
She wasn’t even that far when he called her by her name.
His Red Sweater (a really huge one for a guy like him)
“Wendy!” he called her by her name and even had the guts to reach for her hand.
“Y…yes?” she seems to be a little startled.
“Maybe we really can work together.”
She laughed. “I know. I already said that and you agreed.”
“So…”
“So…?”
“Maybe we can work even well together if…”
“If?”
“Are you free on Saturday night?”
“Saturday night?”
“Yes.” He sighed exasperatedly. He didn’t know that she’s kind of slow with cues like this. “I’m asking you out for a date. If that’s okay. Because, you know, I think this is one great way to work with someone. Build up the relationship?”
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