Heated Rivalry, Identity, and Why This Show Hits So Damn Hard

If you’re at all part of modern-day society, you’ll immediately know what I’m talking about when I say Heated Rivalry (HR). If you’ve been living under a rock, or don’t have Crave, you probably have absolutely no idea what HR is.

So let me fill you in, and explain why I (along with so many others) became completely obsessed with this show.

Heated Rivalry is a Canadian sports romance television series created from Rachel Reid’s Game Changers novel series, named after the second book. At its core, it’s a modern hockey story, hockey culture, professional competition, and rivalry — but with a love story between two gay players at the centre.

It’s one of the most relatable and beautifully written modern love stories I’ve seen in a long time. And the part that I'm the most passionate about? It started entirely here at home.

The show was conceived, produced, and developed in Canada, primarily for a domestic audience. There was no massive international rollout plan. But once clips and discussions started circulating online, American audiences discovered it organically. Interest grew through exposure (not marketing), and then it spread globally.

A beyond-viral television series… built right here in Canada.

Like most people, I jumped on the bandwagon during peak virality and became absolutely obsessed. So obsessed, in fact, that I decided to rewatch it this week to see if I missed anything the first time around.

I did. And honestly, it hit harder the second time.

When I started this blog, I wanted it to stay mostly professional and connected to who I am at work, and it still does. But consider this a bit of a bonus episode. A more personal one.

Before going further, I want to be VERY clear: I’m not looking for pity or sympathy. This post aligns with my belief in having a public voice, being honest, and sharing lived experiences that shaped who I am today.... both personally and professionally.

Because rewatching HR brought up a lot. See here:

Coming Out Isn’t Easy — Even When It Goes “Well”

One thing the show captured perfectly was how complicated coming out actually is.

Awkward. Unexpected. Relieving. Terrifying. All at once.

In the show, coming out eventually lands in acceptance. And while that happens for some people, it doesn’t always happen cleanly, or kindly.

I still hold resentment toward people who responded with, “Yeah, we always knew.” And even more resentment toward those who disappeared for months, stopped talking to me entirely, and then came back later acting like everything was fine - or wanting to use me as their token "Gay Best Friend" (GBF).

I sometimes feel silly wishing I’d gotten the big “we’re proud of you” moment. The acknowledgement of courage people talk about. But at the same time, I know my experience was still far better than many others who face rejection, disownment, or worse simply for who they love.

The show doesn’t oversimplify that experience. And that honesty matters.

Power Dynamics & The Reality of Gay Dating

The relationship dynamics between the two main characters are impossible to ignore.

One presents as dominant and controlled. The other more emotional and vulnerable. Watching it made me question something about myself: who I actually am in relationships.

I think I present as dominant on the outside, especially professionally. But internally? Big emotions. Soft centre.

Years ago, I experienced a similar push/pull dynamic in a relationship: leaving, returning, emotional games, eventually caving to his ways because feelings never fully went away.

Like… even still today. It’s something that shows up constantly in modern gay dating culture.

And honestly, gay dating can be brutal. There are real factors people don’t talk about openly:

• Peter Pan syndrome — emotional avoidance disguised as independence

• Online dating culture accelerating disposability

• Fear of vulnerability after past rejection

• Sexual compatibility becoming an immediate filtering mechanism that can dramatically shrink the dating pool

And the more I’ve thought about it, the more I’ve realized it’s not entirely surprising that dating can feel this intense.

When two men date, attraction tends to get filtered visually and quickly. Apps make decisions instant, rejection faster, and comparison constant. Add in the fact that many gay men grew up learning to protect parts of themselves or manage rejection earlier in life, and you end up with people who want connection but are also deeply cautious of it.

So you get this strange dynamic where everyone is searching for intimacy while simultaneously guarding themselves from it.

Which is exactly what the show captures so well — that push and pull between wanting closeness and fearing what comes with it.

The show portrays that tension without pretending love magically fixes everything.

Why “Being Gay” Sometimes Looks Like a Personality

People often say being gay becomes someone’s entire personality. (I get this a LOT).

And while that statement can sound dismissive, there’s also a reason it happens.

Community becomes survival.

Gay culture: drag, shared spaces, humour, identity markers, exists because many people grew up without feeling safe belonging elsewhere.

For me, this ties deeply back to my relationship with men growing up, especially my father. A rocky relationship shaped how I learned to trust — or not trust — male figures.

Between that and experiences in school where friendships turned into bullying, trust never developed naturally. Even now, I often feel hesitation around men because historically, that trust was broken.

And the difficult part is this: healing doesn’t happen in isolation when experiences continue.Even today, in 2026, I am still treated differently at times because I’m gay — including in professional environments. So while working very hard to heal past experiences through trauma therapy, etc..... new reminders still appear.

That reality shapes people more than outsiders realize.

You Don’t Really Get to Be “Normal”

No matter how ordinary life looks externally, being gay means navigating a world largely designed around heterosexual norms.

Most media, music, and cultural expectations still assume traditional relationships. Progress has absolutely been made — huge progress — but there’s still a distance between acceptance and true normalcy.

And even for those who feel accepted, past experiences leave lasting marks. Not everyone carries trauma the same way, but for many people, there’s always a small part that remembers feeling different.

The show (HR) captures that tension quietly — without speeches, just through lived moments.

Courtesy: Boston College Libraries

The “Successful Gay Man” Stereotype

There’s also a stereotype that gay men are disproportionately successful or wealthy.

Even in HR, the characters are elite athletes: successful, admired, financially secure.

There’s actually social science discussion around this, particularly Minority Stress Theory, which suggests that growing up navigating identity challenges can develop resilience, emotional awareness, and achievement motivation.

And I’ve realized recently how much that applies to me. I am intensely driven at work — not just because I enjoy success, but because I feel a constant need to prove something:

• to people who doubted me growing up

• to family expectations

• to peers

• and honestly, sometimes to myself

Success becomes validation.

When Nothing Ever Feels Good Enough

That drive has another side. Perfectionism.

My house, my work, my projects, my goals — everything feels like it needs to be better, cleaner, more refined, more successful. Never good enough.

Psychology often links this to high-achievement coping patterns formed early in life: when approval feels conditional, excellence becomes safety.

It explains a lot about why I obsess over improvement — and why “good enough” rarely feels like enough.

Closing

Rewatching Heated Rivalry didn’t really change how I felt about the show itself.

What changed was how I understood why it stuck with me in the first place.

The first time around, it was easy to get pulled into the hype: the moments everyone was talking about, the scenes that kept showing up online, the cultural buzz around it.

The second time, I noticed different things. Smaller things. The uncomfortable pauses. The hesitation. The parts that felt a little too familiar in ways I didn’t fully recognize before.

And I think that’s probably why it spread the way it did. Not because it was trying to be groundbreaking, but because it felt real enough that people quietly saw themselves in it; sometimes without even realizing why.

Somewhere along the rewatch (ok... and the pauses to cry....), it stopped feeling like I was watching characters. It felt more like understanding pieces of my own story that I hadn’t really sat with before.

Until next time,

Graydon.

AI disclosure: This piece was written by me whilst using AI tools to assist with structure, editing, clarity, and image creation — not to generate ideas or replace original thought.