I'm Horny For Your Sadness 

Your crush comes up to you, vulnerable and pale.

He says: "My father was stung by a bee and died."

Gasp. You don't know where to look. What to say. You stare at his lips, suddenly aware of how nice they look.

You say: I'm so sorry... But also... Are you as turned on as I am?

Don't worry, the answer to that will be the most resounding: yes. Cue the heaving breaths, the tantalizing, almost there kind of desire, touching, but not quite—

Okay, yes, I've been watching way too many romance shows. It's kind of taken over my life. What can I say, there's just so much to talk about, and now I'm sitting here overanalyzing every minuscule element that I can find to try and rationalize why I'm still in bed, binging yet another episode of The Buccaneers or Bridgerton, or My Life With the Walter Boys, or The Summer I Turned Pretty, or Ginny and Georgia (yes, I'm including it because I wrote an article on that one, too), but, whatever, my motivations aren't that important. What's important is that I committed, watched all of it, and now I have thoughts.

On trauma lust.

Guys, seriously, what is up with that?

So there are a few terms floating around that I've picked up on: "heal/comfort" romance, trauma bonding, toxic relationships... you get the gist. These terms are pretty vague and depending on the context (psychology, literature, media) their definition changes. However, for the sake of this piece, I'm just going to stick with "trauma bonding" to define two people who connect with each other based on traumas that they've experienced, and "trauma lust" as two people who get horny listening to each other's traumas. You can fight me on these terms in your own papers.

Anyways, trauma bonding isn't really a new concept. You see it everywhere in young adult movies (think The Mortal Instruments: City of Bones, Pretty Little Liars, Divergent, to name a few). All of these narratives contained a romance that was first built on some shared trauma, or similar traumas that two characters connected on, and then later, it was through either a shared traumatic experience or confession of some trauma that one of them underwent (Tobias from Divergent got whipped by his dad, Jace from the City of Bones has serious Daddy issues), which led to a steamy sexual encounter.

And, yes, I ate that shit up.

Not that there's anything wrong with it. Trauma bonding in any of these examples plays a prominent part in allowing readers or viewers to navigate the treacherous, and oftentimes, isolating experience of growing up. It provides readers, especially young readers, with spaces to vicariously experience complex emotions and events in a safe manner. In this way, these relationships give them space to heal and validate their own feelings, or it sets a framework that gives audiences the tools and understanding to be able to apply it into their own lives in a healthy manner.

In my own experience, I never had any major parental issue, I was definitely not abused at any point in my life, but being able to step into the shoes of the main character allowed me to gain a little bit more empathy for her situation. It also allowed me to navigate a lot of complicated events in my own life, firstly, because I didn't feel alone, and secondly, I was able to use her situation to navigate elements of my own life.

The biggest difference, however, is the fact that despite all this trauma, friendship came first. Each of these relationships was developed beyond conversations about their relationships, and they had a dynamic going that you'd want to root for, whether that be banter outside of the relationship, or some kind of experience outside of trauma. What mattered was that each character provided the other comfort, support, and empathy, and that was important.

Okay, maybe it isn't that deep, but, I'm telling you, something changed in the past couple of years. Maybe it's just that my eyes finally opened, but teen fiction narratives have taken the weirdest step when it comes to writing romance. That is to say, it's no longer about comfort; rather, what is supposedly meant to be a safe space to navigate and form relationships even within the realm of fiction has been reduced to the physical pleasure it can provide you in return.

It all started with Bridgerton. Antony and Kate are in love. It's kind of forbidden. The younger sister, Edwina, is most definitely being gaslit. You'd think that would be enough, but then the show keeps cutting to these mini-confession scenes between Antony and Kate where they reveal some deep, traumatic loss. Although their grief becomes a point that allows them to presumably emotionally bond with each other, we don't actually get to see that. Instead, we see their breathing shift, lust fills their eyes. Suddenly, it is a mere shred of will that keeps them from keeping their clothes on. The ghost of their dead father lingers in the air.

Of course, I have to bring up Ginny & Georgia because it's fresh in my brain. It is another example of a teen show that isn't specifically romantic, which also uses trauma as a way to get horny. In the first season, the relationship frenzy feels as though it is naturally mirroring what many high schoolers go through as they explore their sexual identities and the social hierarchy that is high school. Ginny's initial connection with Marcus seems intentional in terms of the angst and desperation to belong somewhere. She wanted a sense of stability as quickly as possible and trauma bonding gave her that. In the later seasons, however, things become a bit more contrived when every sexual encounter hinges on a trauma confession to arouse the other. I mean, even The Artful Dodger creates sexual tension over open bodies in the surgery room, or Belle's heart issue. Jack hears that Belle might die soon... well, pop goes the weasel, I guess.

What I am pointing out might be as simple as the narratives intentionally opting to skip a step. I agree, writing a believable relationship takes up a lot of space that could be used for plot. However, the issue is, when a story is cut up in this manner, the romance between the two also starts to feel a bit superficial.

Maybe, honestly, my qualm is just with Bridgerton and The Buccaneers. After the first season, it all went downhill. I mean, the story was just trauma dumping as a way to kindle some kind of a spark between two randos. I wanted to root for Antony and Kate, I really did. The issue is that their relationship fell flat because there wasn't enough there to root for. They didn't really have any basis on which to hate each other; there wasn't a lot to go on other than the loss of their father that made it seem like they had anything in common. Instead, all we get are half-hearted confessions, grief, and a lot of heaving chests. Same thing with Theo and Lizzy. They go through shitty experiences, but their romance doesn't feel real because there is nothing else beyond that shared trauma.

I'm not saying that trauma is bad. Quite the opposite, actually. I think it's important to have these discussions through media, and depicting them in these kinds of show can be vital in helping others who might be going through the same thing. Where I get kind of iffy is when trauma is used as a way to contrive a relationship out of thin air. Give me some friendship. Make it believable. Give me Darcy's clenched fist and change of heart. Don't tell me your father's death turns you on.