Heated Rivalry, Ilya Rozanov, and the Radical Act of Being Bi on Screen

Desire, masculinity, and what it means when bisexuality isn’t treated as a narrative problem.

There’s a particular kind of delight that comes with seeing a bisexual character on screen. There’s a particular kind of relief that comes when that same bisexual character is portrayed well. “Wait, he isn’t the villain? His attraction to women isn’t an attempt to cover up his homosexuality? Is this a joke?”

Does it surprise you that I’m watching Heated Rivalry? Does it surprise you that Ilya Rozanov has completely stolen my heart?

I don’t read a lot of contemporary romance, and would never consider myself a sports novel reader. But as I understand, the people who do enjoy the combo are feral for it. A lot of the bi+ writers in my circle are voraciously reading and/or writing these stories, especially with queer pairings. We love to see it. Of course, biphobia is as rampant in love stories as it is in real life, which means I’ve spent a lot of time wishing that a character would kiss the best friend the author has been (perhaps subconsciously) queerbaiting me with, only to be disappointed yet again.

When it comes to onscreen representation, my expectations are nonexistent. So, when my friend told me that we were watching a gay hockey show and that I was going to love it, my bosom wasn’t exactly heaving with anticipation.

Although, that might have more to do with the fact that she’s made me watch some real stinkers and that her taste in books is questionable at best. (To be fair to her, I am very difficult to please when it comes to storytelling. To be fair to me, those books are bad.)

So, when we loaded up the first two episodes, I was ready to laugh and have a good time over some shitty media.

I am never too proud to say when I am wrong. Heated Rivalry is a good show. It’s well-shot, well-produced, well-acted, and hot as fuck. And I need to talk about it.