Gay Romance Shows Are Sweet. Now Give Us the Real Thing

By Tom Richardson


I watched Red, White & Royal Blue alone in my apartment last summer, crying into a bowl of day-old Pad Thai. Not because it was particularly sad – but because part of me was angry that 15-year-old me never got to see something like this.

Instead, I had to make do with pausing Cruel Intentions at very specific moments and praying my mom wouldn’t walk in. (Ryan Phillippe in that movie was definitely someone’s gay awakening, and that someone might have been me.)

Look, I’ve watched every episode of Heartstopper twice. I ugly-cried during Love, Simon. I even defended Young Royals to that straight co-worker who called it “a bit much” (Sarah, if you’re reading this – it’s not “a bit much,” you’re just boring).

Love Simon Nick Robinson
Love, Simon

Lately, however, something’s been bugging me about these shows and films. It hit me during my second Heartstopper rewatch, somewhere between Charlie’s perfect hair (seriously, what teenage boy’s hair looks like that?) and Nick’s coming out scene that feels like it was focus-grouped within an inch of its life.

These shows are fantasies. And not the fun kind with dragons and magic – they’re the kind that makes you feel slightly worse about your own messy reality.

They’re what straight executives think gay life should look like: sanitized, safe, and packaged with a Netflix-approved bow on top.

Don’t get me wrong – teenage me would have absolutely lost it seeing Kit Connor and Joe Locke’s sweet romance playing out on screen.

Heartstopper season 3 dog

But adult me can’t help noticing that we’re stuck in a loop of the same gorgeous, sanitized fantasy played on repeat.

Boy meets Prince

It’s always the same story: attractive (usually white) middle-class boy meets attractive (usually white) middle-class boy. One’s popular, the other’s quiet and artsy.

There’s a bully who’s probably closeted himself, and a group of friends who talk like they’ve swallowed a TikTok self-help trend. Even the “mean” characters seem like they’ve been through sensitivity training.

And let’s talk about Red, White & Royal Blue. Look, I ate it up like everyone else, but come on – one of them is literally a prince. A PRINCE. The most unrealistic part isn’t the gay romance – it’s the idea that anyone still cares about the monarchy.

Red white and royal blue
Red, White & Royal Blue

My first gay kiss wasn’t behind the bleachers with the rugby captain. It was with a guy named Steve (not his real name, but honestly, he probably was a Steve) behind a Wendy’s, and I had to throw away my shirt because it smelled like french fries for days. Where’s that story?

Where are the stories about gay guys in their 20s living with three roommates and trying to figure out if they can afford therapy or a Grindr premium subscription?

Where are the complex relationships that don’t end in either marriage or tragedy? Where are the stories about queer people who shop at Target instead of whatever expensive-ass stores these TV teens get their perfectly curated wardrobes from?

And the sex thing – oh boy. While straight teen shows are out there raw-dogging reality (looking at you, Euphoria), gay shows remain firmly in hand-holding territory.

I’m not saying we need anything too explicit, but there’s something weird about how these stories get neutered to make straight audiences comfortable (and hey, we already had the right thing – 25 years ago! – with Queer as Folk).

Queer as Folk UK vs US
Queer As Folk UK & US Knew What To Do

Please take a look around you, at your gay friends, and your club buddies, and your friends with benefits.

Do any of them behave even remotely like the perfect gay princes we see on TV? Because last time I checked, most gay love stories start at 3 AM in the club bathroom – and they definitely don’t end with just a kiss.

Sweet Is Not Enough

Last month, I watched Heartstopper with some straight friends, and they kept saying how “sweet” and “wholesome” it was.

And yeah, it is sweet. But you know what else is sweet? Actually showing that gay relationships aren’t just about longing glances and gentle pecks in the rain.

The most frustrating part? I still watch all of these. I still cry. I still tweet about how important they are. Because they are important – every queer kid deserves to see themselves in a story where being gay isn’t a death sentence.

But they also deserve to see stories that reflect the beautiful mess of actual queer life.

So yes, keep making these shows. Keep giving us those perfect first kisses and coming out stories that end in group hugs. But also give us stories about messy gay breakups, about finding community in your 40s and (gulp) 50s, about dating while working retail.

Give us stories where the main character can’t afford an aesthetic bedroom makeover every time they have an identity crisis.

And maybe, just maybe, we could get one gay romance where neither character looks like they just stepped out of a TikTok thirst trap. But let’s not get too crazy – baby steps, right?