Heated Rivalry

When romance drops the misogynist gaze

I watch plenty of TV, including rom-coms and meet-cutes. You know what I mean—predictable plotting you can guess just by reading the description, made worse by diversity-by-checkbox casting. It takes a lot to get me to actually pay attention, get emotionally invested, or feel something. It almost never happens. And then came Heated Rivalry.

Image from Collider’s article

I’m pretty sure I’m not in the target demo. I’m 75 years old. I’m queer. I’m single. And I’m a woman. But (terminally online as I am), I’m finding that the demo for this show is growing by the minute. Sadly my real world experience isn’t this. I’ve been to a couple of social events recently and was surprised that almost no one had heard of it—not the straight people, not the lesbians. I also came to the show cold—I haven’t read the books, which have a fan base that knows the story by heart.

Heated Rivalry landed differently from the jump. Even before episode one, what I was seeing about it on socials was getting me interested. At first it was the descriptions of the sex scenes, honestly. But almost immediately after that, I started reading about the depth of the story. The show itself didn’t waste any time—the first two episodes are loaded with astonishingly hot, sexy scenes, made riveting by the skill level, production values, and gorgeous leads, but also by the level of consent. So much explicit, mutual consent, which somehow makes the sex even hotter.

The dom–sub dynamic running through this story resonates deeply for me, and I think I know why. I’m a Shane Hollander–type sub. Something in me lives for that kind of relationship; I was lucky enough to experience that kind of surrender once, in real life, and I’d be delighted for another go. Watching it handled with this much care, clarity, and consent hit — and delighted —something very personal.

Then the story does something unexpected. It shifts into more of a romance—fewer sex scenes, though still quite hot—unfolding over years into something emotionally deeper and more complex. The standard misogynist-gaze power dynamic just isn’t there, which makes the back-and-forth, the growth and vulnerability feel genuinely new. Watching the emotional deepening move in both directions is wonderful, surprising, and honestly kind of fucking mind-blowing.

And the straight dudes commenting! One of the strangest and most delightful side effects has been seeing straight male hockey podcasters on Empty Netters raving about the show—doing long, sensitive, joyful breakdowns, loving the sex, and responding without the usual heteronormative posturing, which genuinely surprised me.

The downside is that I’m a little wrecked now. I keep trying other shows and bouncing off them. Nothing’s holding (especially vanilla romance!). So yes, I’ve rewatched Heated Rivalry—more than once—less out of obsession than because everything else suddenly feels less compelling than ever.

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