I commented to my spouse recently that I haven’t felt much of anything for anyone, in a romantic or sexual way, for quite some time. The exception being, as I put it, my “fictional boyfriends” – the characters from various media properties that I fixate on, in fanfiction or livetweets or fantasies.
There was a sad tone in my voice when I said it, but upon further reflection, I don’t think I am actually sad about this state of affairs. It just feels like I “should” be sad about it, but I’m not. Navigating a burgeoning romance has long been my ultimate idea of a good time; it’s something I’ve pursued relentlessly for much of my adult life, and (when I had other stuff on my plate) it’s been something I judge myself for not pursuing. But does that really serve me, and does it really need to take up that space in my life and in my brain?