Title: Aroace Voyeurism Part 1: Fiction

Date: 22/06/2026 (Monday, Cloudy)

Topics: LGBTQ, Fiction

Word count: 1568


Pride Month has come and gone! After my last post, I made good on my promise to focus my time on exploring my aroace identity and raising awareness. This piece acts both as a kind of epilogue, a conclusion, to the things I mentioned at the beginning of the month, but also as a general recount of what my life is like as an aroace person.

I ended up splitting this into multiple parts because I got so carried away on my tangents that it became too long. So enjoy this first part!

I don't have a specific label for my aromantic experience, but I do identify as aegosexual. Aegosexuality is loosely defined by an aversion to having sex or being in a sexual relationship while still feeling arousal. One of the most commonly brought up ideas for aegosexuality is the idea of a disconnect between the individual and their sexual attraction. For example, an allo person can give a list of features, such as gender, sex, personality or appearance, that they find sexually attractive, but for myself, I don't have this, instead it's an aphantasian feeling not defined by form. Some aegosexual people might still masturbate or engage in pornographic/sexual content because they still feel arousal, but those actions are disconnected from the individual's sexual identity.

Fictosexuality is not remotely close to aegosexuality. While the two labels share the 'disconnection' idea, aegosexuality is actually, how do I put this nicely, real? I apologise to any fictosexuals in the room for my hot take, but please let me stand on my soapbox.

In Sayaka Murata's Vanishing World, she gives a very robust look into the mind of fictosexual people, or as they're known in Japan, Nijikon (translates to '2D complex', and more specifically describes an attraction to 2D characters in anime or manga). The main character is a Nijikon, but she also exists in a dystopian future where sex is considered an outdated activity, and those who still practice it with real people are deviant and dirty. The book goes on to bring up the ramifications of this kind of society; it's safer for LGBTQ and non-monogamous people to exist in, because no one is judgemental of who you're attracted to. On the other hand, they are judgemental of if you're attracted to anyone in that way. She describes how the main character 'has sex' with fictional characters, and it's implied that what she was actually doing was masturbating while focusing on the keychains of her favourite character.

Even though this book takes place in a wildly different reality, it still tells us very real things about what life is like in Japan. Sex feels like a faraway concept, a dirty, unhygienic practice, one that involves confronting feelings and exploring physicality with another person. Japan is increasingly infamous for their conservatism regarding romance, as marriage and birth rates are rapidly declining, and prostitution and asexual-adjacent lifestyles are embraced as a fact of adulthood. Regardless of the individual sexual identities of Japanese people, this growing culture of 'fictosexuality' is not an accumulation of like-minded people in one country, it is the result of a society that makes people push away the thought of sex until it no longer becomes part of their life.

It is my humble asexual opinion that there is truth to fictosexuality, in that it's possible for people to find fictional characters sexually pleasing while not being attracted to real people, but it is not a definable sexuality like aegosexuality is. Fictional characters happen to be where these people find their attraction lying, but the idea of finding the characters attractive is not a sexuality. What is a sexuality, or an asexuality, is the specific details that separate fictional characters from real people; they are unattainable, usually far more attractive than the average person because they are designed to be, they don't have a physical form you can be repulsed by, and especially for Japan, the characters may have been created with fetishisation in mind. And you know what a lot of that sounds like? Aegosexuality!

I can't believe I'm trying to start discourse with my fellow asexual people but the arguments of environmental vs biological sexuality is one that is never more apparent than when asexual people are involved. Asexuality is one of the only identities under the LGBTQ umbrella that can be caused by environmental factors, or at least there are environmental factors that can lead to a person living an asexual lifestyle. Trauma, illness, medication side effects, these can all replicate the asexual experience. And similarly, an environment where sex is scandalised and yet commodified would lead to a lot of people aligning with labels like fictosexual. But it isn't the fact that they're fictional, it's the fact that you can't be ashamed of engaging with them.


Anyway, that side tangent existed to bring some broader context to my main point; aegosexuality exists in-tangent to fetish culture. Specifically, fujoshi culture is the number one victim of this connection.

In the peak of Heated Rivalry's popularity, a common question was thrown around the internet; why do women, particularly straight women, find this show so appealing? It has very little involvement from female characters, and while the women in the show are important, they are definitely not the forefront of what the show is. It is, from start to finish, about gay men.

A few arguments were shared. One was that since the two characters were both men, there was no space for societal hierarchies to decide on the dynamic in their relationship, whereas heterosexual romances typically lean into the dominance of men and the submission of women. Even in relationships where the men are not the dominant party, they are seen as a breakaway from the norm, implying there is a norm to break from. For two men in the same profession, there is nothing except their own preferences to decide who controls who, or if there is control to be seized at all. For women who are constantly subjected to the patriarchal expectations of heterosexual dating, this show would be a breather.

Another is the forbidden romance trope. Romantic media creates drama from something creating a rift in the relationship. Sometimes, these are internal, where the two characters navigate their clashing personalities or a traumatic event that changes their lives, and they learn to grow together. When it's not internal, the drama is external, and is most often considered part of the forbidden romance trope. Their relationship, for whatever reason that the writers create, is scandalous, taboo or throws a wrench into an otherwise peaceful community. The problem with modern romance media is that relationships aren't forbidden, not for heterosexual people at least. You can create as many boundaries as you want; they're in opposing cliques, they play opposing sports, they're second cousins (idk I'm sure a lot of those exist lol), but forbidden heterosexual romance is stale. There are three routes; use intersectionality (like race or disability), make it set in a different time period where relationships were more likely to actually be scandalous, or make it GAY! Queer relationships are the last remaining form of love that cannot speak its name. The threat of homophobia still looms over society in a way that is incredibly marketable.

The most interesting point I've seen is the voyeuristic argument; women like that there aren't women involved. Unlike straight romances, there isn't the expectation to project yourself into one of the characters, instead it is designed to create a separation between the viewer and the characters on screen. Despite how erotic the show is, it's also very easy to enjoy the sex for its emotional value or narrative rather than its arousal. Women no longer have to watch a sex scene where a woman is degraded or subjected to discomfort because there are no women involved at all. And let's admit, the characters in that show treated each other so much better than the average straight man would ever treat a woman, lol.

This argument is so interesting to me because it reflects a large part of the aegosexual experience. There is something exciting and arousing about a relationship unfolding on screen that you are not involved in, and cannot attach yourself to. Sex on screen is stylised and, by nature, unrealistic. It removes the parts of sex that aegosexual people are repulsed by, in the same way that it removes the parts of sex that women are uncomfortable with.

This is why I wanted to name this piece 'Aroace Voyeur'. But fictional media is not the only aspect of this idea that is worth discussing, so you'll have to stay tuned for part 2 ;) I didn't even intend on writing this part, it just consumed me, as all good topics should.

Always in your orbit,

andro venus :)


References

  Aegosexuality. (2026, June 12). In Wikipedia. Link .

  Webb, J. (2024, November 1). What is fictosexuality and is it a problem? NOCD. Link .