The bi male heartthrobs have arrived*

* Some conditions may apply

Okay I gotta start this essay by admitting that I have not seen Heartstopper, The Summer I Turned Pretty, or Red, White, & Royal Blue because quite frankly there is simply TOO MUCH TV and I’m too busy hate watching And Just Like That to check these shows out. Also, at least one of them is on Netflix, which I can no longer access after the service booted me out of my mother’s account. (Want to watch Heartstopper, Mom?)

But even with that gap in cultural knowledge, I still feel comfortable commenting on this recent Slate essay which cites those three shows as proof that “the long-awaited rise of the bisexual male heartthrob in TV and film” is finally here.

As a starting point, I feel it necessary to note that this essay has a very narrow definition of “bisexual male heartthrob.” He’s a man “whose fluid sexuality is no longer treated as a punchline or a cause for concern, but instead an explicit part of his dashing appeal,” he’s “commanding and athletic, seductive yet loyal, mushy about love and fearless in the face of the (often silly) forces working to keep him from his love interest.” He is not Darryl Whitefeather from Crazy Ex-Girlfriend or David Rose from Schitt’s Creek, both of whom the writer dismisses as “sexless” and “best friend” material, categorizations which lead me to wonder if, uh, the writer actually ever watched Crazy Ex-Girlfriend or Schitt’s Creek. Darryl and David might not be your type, but these shows are pretty explicit about the fact that these men fuuuuuuuuuck. (Also David is one of the protagonists of Schitt’s Creek and has a whole dating to marriage arc so whose best friend is he??)

Anyway. If we accept — as we apparently must — that what we’re talking about here is a very limited definition of “hunk” and “romantic interest,” one that’s basically limited to the kind of dude you would see in a teen romance (which I think all of the above are), then, sure, it’s great that we’re seeing more bi men pop up as these kinds of characters. But, even as I know that three examples are all it takes to make a trend, I’m leery of getting too excited about these small victories, or insisting that we’ve even really gotten all that far from — as the piece recalls in its opener — Carrie Bradshaw doubting the existence of bi men.

Because, well —

I mean are bi male heartthrobs proof of greater bi acceptance, or are they just… women finally realizing they can openly fetishize bi men?

Like, let’s return to this line: “whose fluid sexuality is no longer treated as a punchline or a cause for concern, but instead an explicit part of his dashing appeal”

My bisexuality is many things. You know what I’m not interested in having it be? An explicit part of my appeal — I mean, not unless the person saying that is a bi person who feels relieved that we have this in common. It makes me uncomfortable to see bi men framed as cool and edgy and hip for the same reason it makes me feel uncomfortable to see bi people, period, framed that way. It reduces our sexual attractions to a quirk rather than allowing them to be a part of our whole personhood. It makes it a fun detail for someone else to latch on to, rather than simply… us. I don’t like it.

And then there’s this description of Jeremiah from The Summer I Turned Pretty, which, again, I haven’t seen, but still:

The younger of the two brothers, the endearing Jeremiah Fisher, is bisexual, claiming in the first season that he’s an “equal-opportunity flirt.” His bisexuality—and Gavin Casalegno’s self-assured performance of it—helps establish the character’s warm and open embrace of the world. He’s quick to accept drinks, dares, and kisses, and he’s more forthcoming than other boys, from articulating that he’s not a “queerbaiter” right before locking lips with a boy at a house party to openly declaring his feelings for the protagonist, Belly. Belly is drawn to Jeremiah not in spite of his queerness, but in part because of it: His self-assured queerness softens his cocky bravado and makes his coquettish streak a statement of empowerment instead of sleaze.

I dunno, I’m still unpacking that, but I just feel kinda weird about that paragraph. It feels not unlike many an essay I’ve read about how cool it is that this bi lady character from a show is so cool and edgy and how her bisexuality makes her cool.

I think part of what’s going on here is that the very genre we’re talking about — romance, whether teen or adult — is a genre inherently geared towards women, and in this case specifically towards women who are attracted to men. What we’re celebrating here is bisexual men finally being positioned as desirable sex objects for women to lust after — that’s what the whole hunk thing is about, right? — rather than bisexuality as a stain that renders them too gay to touch. And on the one hand, like, yeah, sure, progress. But on the other hand —

The flip side of disgust is fetishization, you know?

And I’m not saying that any of these shows (which I have not seen) are fetishizing bi men; I know Heartstopper was celebrated by many people I trust. But getting excited about bi men as a love interest is still getting excited about bi men as an object and not a protagonist. And that, I think, is kind of why I feel weird.

(But seriously if you’ve seen these shows let me know what you think.)