Cupid

One thing that fascinates me about how people interpret the same media is that every interpretation, no matter how similar or different, is subjective. When I went searching for art and animatics based on Jack Stauber’s “Cupid”, most of the results framed it as an inherently romantic song. And why shouldn’t they? Cupid is the god of love. But when I listen to “Cupid”, I’m reminded of my first and only relationship. I’m reminded of learning that someone I only ever saw as a friend had a crush on me. I’m reminded of how I felt quietly coerced into dating, of how I put his feelings before my own to make him happy, of being able to check “has a boyfriend” off an arbitrary list of presumed social accomplishments. I’m reminded of how plainly I would say “I love you”, and how his gasps of sincerity and joyous replies made me feel uneasy, and how I hated that I couldn’t make myself match his energy. I’m reminded of being 18, fully accepting my asexuality, but not knowing that it was okay to be aromantic. I’m reminded of a messy “not a breakup, just a break” that left us both in tears. I’m reminded of years of feeling like an inhuman and heartless bitch. I’m reminded of being in my mid-20s and finally embracing what I was scared to admit to myself for so long. I’m reminded of how cruel Cupid was to both of us.