Couch Potato (Sean)

As the Hammel psychiatrist, Sean’s job entailed keeping tabs on many of the students. In addition, he maintained weekly sessions with several of them, and keeping them all on schedule could be a task in and of itself. He tried to accommodate every student’s schedule with minimal disruption of classes and extracurricular activities, but that wasn’t always possible. There were only so many hours in the workday.

As such, sessions did sometimes overlap with classes, and Sean put in requests for students to be sent to him at the beginning of sessions. Even if they coincided with a class. He was always polite about it, but he did have a hold on the student for scheduled appointments. Such was the case with Amos.

When the boy entered his office, Sean offered him a smile. “Good afternoon.”

Once Amos had taken his spot on the sofa, Sean moved from behind his desk to take one of the armchairs near the sofa on the other side of the room. “How are you doing in math this term?” He asked, once he was settled.

He didn’t want the boy’s grades to suffer in the subject, and tutoring was also an option.

“And how have you been this week?”

Sean nodded in understanding; he knew of Amos’s sleep difficulty and so the news about falling asleep during class wasn’t surprising. At the same time, it was something that his trainer and Clarisse should work on with his teachers; although the faculty was fairly understanding about those matters. They needed to find a method to help him bring his grades up, the same way that Sean had been helping T.K. find resources. Of course, Amos was in less of a dire situation than T.K., but they were both capable of academic success.

The psychiatrist then nodded again; he remembered Eddie quite well. “Good. I hope he’s able to help you bring your grade up a bit.”

He could hear Amos’s train of thought, but he didn’t comment on most of what he heard. The students were entitled to a feeling of privacy, if they couldn’t be given actual privacy. That was typically all that could be done, since he had no ability or interest in changing himself or his telepathy.

“When did you send your letter?” The psychiatrist asked, frowning slightly when Amos described his brother’s reaction. He couldn’t say that he was surprised, given everything that he knew about Joel and his current detox. Still, it was frustrating on Amos’s behalf, given that his internship was something of which to be proud.

Sean then shook his head; he was never offended by small amounts of snacking. “Not at all. I have some ginger ale if you’d like something to drink.” He also had the cookies that Josh had the lemon bars that Josh had baked the night before.

“Please do,” Sean replied with a slight nod. He liked to be kept informed of how the students performed, as he was invested in their academic success.

“I realize that this can sound hollow and is easier said than done, but ignore his opinions. They aren’t helpful, and they aren’t worthy of your attention.” Sean, too, had a sibling who engaged in distressing behavior, but it was easier to be an adult with that family dynamic than it was to be a teenager. Still, he spoke from a place of support and experience.

“I honestly don’t know,” the psychiatrist admitted. Since his dietary concerns primarily took the focus of increasing his glucose intake and avoiding food of exceptionally poor quality, he didn’t worry about refined sugar. He was an omnivore with no religious restrictions on his diet, and while he had the luxury of buying locally and organic when he could, it wasn’t the same. He did try new things as recommended at organic stores, however, so there was a possibility. “But I can check for you.”

With that, he rose from his desk and went to check in the small refrigerator where he kept a limited selection of beverages for just this purpose. Pulling out a can of Zevia ginger ale, he quickly read the back and then brought it over to Amos. “You’re in luck. This doesn’t look like it has any refined sugar.”

With that, the psychiatrist sat down again. He’d only been sitting for a brief moment before Amos made reference to his recent Talk. Specially to the subject matter of that talk. “What about feelings about sex?” He asked. There were several directions that discussion could take, and he was prepared to follow whatever Amos asked.

He had plenty of experience with discussing intimacy and needs.

Sean listened attentively to the boy’s question and all of the background. At first, he had been prepared to give his standard expression of solidarity, given that he himself was in a relationship with another man. More than that, Pilot Ridge had no shortage of individuals belonging to the LGBT community, between the LGBT Youth Center at which he and Ben and several others volunteered, James and Chase who were married to one another, the myriad student and adult population either involved in, or potentially interested in, same-sex relationships.

Amos’s further explanation gave him pause.

This wasn’t a simple case of explaining that there was great solidarity in the LGBT community of Pilot Ridge. This was a matter of explaining the difference between romantic attraction and sexual attraction. It was a matter that wasn’t discussed much in popular culture, and certainly not in the classroom, and he supposed Amos didn’t know where to begin searching for himself. Or he trusted Sean to have the answer.

Either way, the psychiatrist would give the boy all of the information he needed.

“You shouldn’t use the word ‘normal,’” he told the boy. He was firm in his practice of not encouraging that word outside of describing medical symptoms. It had a problematic connotation that went beyond mere prevalence. “It might not be the most typical situation, but you’re far from the only one who has ever felt that way, or who even feels that way now. Although since you brought it up, and you are free not to answer, do you want to discuss your masturbation habits?”

The psychiatrist offered him a smile before launching into a more detailed explanation. “People tend to use sexual attraction as the only measure of attraction, but it isn’t. There are different types, and the two usually employed for non-platonic relationships are sexual attraction and romantic attraction. From what you’re describing to me, you haven’t experience sexual attraction, is that right?”

He waited for Amos’s confirmation there, before he said, “But it also sounds like you’re romantically attracted to other boys. If true, the word for it is ‘homoromantic.’”

The psychiatrist then offered him a look intended for reassurance. “There’s an entire movement for visibility for people who have similar orientations. I could try to find you some literature if you’d like?”

Sean didn’t launch into an explanation of how the boy needn’t apologize for his benefit. He objected to the word because of the way it Othered people and how it contained a value judgment, but he objected on the behalf of others. Not wanting to get into that, he simply nodded his acceptance of the apology and moved on.

The psychiatrist didn’t think there was any need for Amos to explain his stance further insofar as the inference that he was disgusted by sex. While Sean’s identity was sexual beyond a shadow of a doubt, he understood the concept of asexuality and didn’t believe it needed defending. It was an identity, and Amos’s romantic attraction was an orientation, as valid as any other. As such, the psychiatrist said, “A lot of people find motorcycles exciting, but I’ve never been interested. I realize that might sound like a glib comparison, but I do understand where you’re coming from. Not being interested in something doesn’t mean that you hate it and want it not to exist.”

There were some people who were disgusted by sex, but they weren’t representative of asexual people as a whole.

The psychiatrist acknowledged the request with a nod. “I’ll look for some of the pamphlets I have in the collection, but I believe the primary resource is called AVEN.” He became silent for a moment, as he searched his memory for what the acronym stood for. “The Asexual Visibility and Education Network, I think.” He nodded to himself then, as that sounded correct.

He offered Amos a reassuring smile. “I can understand. There aren’t many references to it in popular culture, and you’re bombarded with messages all of the time.” Determining orientation was never an easy task for a teenager. Or for an adult.

The psychiatrist shook his head after listening to Amos’s bleak outlook on other teenagers and his potential future; he didn’t interrupt the boy, but he was vehement in his disagreement. Finally, when Amos had finished, he took his turn. “Not everyone is interested in sex after a dance. And lots of people have lower sex drives or are able to make sacrifices and find a balance. There are also many, many asexual people. While it isn’t common, it isn’t as though there are only a handful of similarly oriented people. After all, this nation alone has over three hundred million people in it.”

There were options. Particularly if there were other avenues for needs to be met. Or, if Amos found he could engage occasionally. That was a matter for the boy and his hypothetical future partner to work out for themselves, as every relationship was different.

“Most of this is speculation, but it is possible for a sexual person and an asexual person to enter into a romantic relationship. As with all things, it has to be discussed before feelings get hurt, but you shouldn’t write off your future that quickly, Amos.”