Hi! I just wanted to jump in and say thank you, because your blog has actually helped me a lot recently. I read your post from a while back (like a WHILE, 4ish years ago) about the aro/ace future and what that looks like as we get older. I’ve been coming to terms on and off in the past few years about how averse I am to relationships and dating, and with the fact that really don’t care if I’m single for the rest of my life. But you very nearly articulated the main concern: what happens when everyone else is wrapped up in their marriages and their families I am truly alone? I’m still not sure that the aromantic identity is accurate for me, but it feels pretty close and so thank you, again, for opening this world up to me and putting words to my feelings. :)
Aww thank you for telling me!! 💚
I still feel the way I did when I wrote that post, although it occupies less of my brainspace than it used to. However, I will take this opportunity to talk about the big thing in my social life that changed since 2020: I dove hard into my local community. Any local community will do I think, but the main one for me was my local trans community. I was also in a community music ensemble, I spent a couple years in a survivor support group, and I went to local queer events. I valued those communities highly enough that they were the main reason I was upset to be moving to a new city.
Community made a huge difference for me. I wasn’t really friends with any of them exactly (like I rarely hung out with any of them outside of whatever thing we had together), and community definitely doesn’t occupy the same niche of social requirements as friends or a partner. But it HELPS. It helps with social support, feeling connected to other people, having regular social interaction, and (crucially imo) meeting people who are older than you in a peer environment instead of one where they are of higher status than you.
I know so many trans people in their 30s, 40s, 50s, even 70s, from my local trans community - variously single, married, divorced, multiply divorced, dating, polyamorous, nonamorous, etc. It really broadened my view of what people older than me are actually doing in real life, not just what the twenty-somethings around me anticipate they will be doing when they are that age. People who are like me too, queer transgender people who will never fit the conventional narrative. It enriched my life in a way I wasn’t expecting.
I still don’t know what an aroace future looks like and it’s still scary but at least now I know that mine will include local communities and that I can get a fair amount of the social fulfillment I’m seeking from them.
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next // previous
august 16, 2021
11:00 p.m.
grandma ong's house
there’s a strangeness to a quiet enclave in a bustling metropolis, unexpected in the same manner as grant and henry’s long, unbroken brotherhood. nothing about the baseline rustle of neighbors carrying in paper grocery sacks and kids kicking a soccer ball resembles the eternal merry-go-round of life–max-capacity subway cars, clueless and loud tourists, and locals who drift through their day–just down the road. and yet above this neighborhood–and the entire sprawling city–hangs a common thread, a bluish hazy night sky.
“that was wild,” henry says, suppressed laughter bursting forth from deep in his chest, “all day everyone’s defaulted to speaking english because, well, look at you, and you even had me fooled. i actually forgot you kind of speak basic korean."
“the inner machinations of my mind are an enigma.”
henry rolls his eyes dramatically but in the same split second, throws an arm around grant’s shoulders.
“i was afraid that soup was going to fly out of your mouth.” grant returns the gesture, though it requires him to lean down so as to not smother henry’s face instead. “too close for comfort.”
“well, in my defense, i was not expecting you to reply to my grandma asking me, “daehyun, i haven’t seen your friend since your wedding. how did you meet again?”
grant shrugs. “we met on a playground twenty-four years ago.”
“on my very first weekend as a resident of the semi-good ol’ US of A. in the opposite situation. i remember being so pissed that my parents made me go out to ‘make friends’ that weekend. not moving, mind you, but making friends. i guess they were psychics, though, because apparently, it didn’t bother you that i didn’t speak your language for at least a couple weeks.”
“people say i could talk to a wall.”
henry laughs again. “you could. you’re very chatty.”
“did it bother you that i wrote you some really, really, really shitty letters in korean in the early days based on online translations i found?”
“no, that was sweet.” no question about it–the joy in henry’s eyes is determined. “they were definitely horrendous, but it’s the thought that counted. you could do better now. oh, and i think i still have all those letters. i should. i did box them up when i moved out of my parents’ house.”
they were, all things considered, never very much alike, beyond the fact they both liked cats but weren’t allowed to have any. henry’s mom was allergic, but grant’s parents despised pets. otherwise, they were polar opposites. grant always liked math and science, wanted to work with airplanes, and preferred to spend his free time with others playing tabletop RPGs and computer games; henry always liked art and history, wanted to be a photographer, and preferred to be left alone to his vintage film camera and pottery. grant’s parents raged when he selected aviation over medicine; henry’s parents and grandparents, all artists, were delighted by his dreams of photography. moreover, grant selectively speaks his mind, while henry rarely minces words.
and still–
the shrill honk of a car off in the distance disturbs grant’s thoughts.
“you really could talk to a wall, but hey, why did you approach me on the swing set that day? you were already busy hanging out with your sisters. and your cousins. why me?”
and still, the two have fused into one. the world turned upside down; grant paints these days, henry has long been a willing dungeons and dragons player, and separation from one another is like losing half your body. if henry walked away now–ended this messy half-hug early–grant would turn to ash.
“well,” grant begins, drawing out the suspense with an exaggerated sigh, “first of all...”
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