“I’ve always, all my life, had some kind of object nearby that I’ve loved and found comfort in.”
Those who identify as having Objectum Sexuality (OS) are emotionally and sexually oriented towards objects instead of people. Amy is an objectum sexual, and her eloquent insights into her feelings make them no less true for her.
Organs. Fans. Globes. Washing machines. Space ships. The Twin Towers. Amy speaks of these objects as her past “lovers”. Her current relationship is with 1001 Nachts – an Arabian Nights-themed amusement park ride and also her partner.
“I love him for the narrowness of his jibs. I love him for the elegant lines of his gondola.”
As my grandmother used to say, no pun intended or made at the time, “There is a cup for every saucer”.
We see Amy talk about her distant father and read out a clinical history of her mental health, including her hospitalization in a psych ward at age 19. In a world where everyone eventually leaves, our stuff is the one thing we can trust and it testifies, through the mute medium of Things, that we were part of something greater than ourselves. Amy’s condition is something more than attachment to a security blanket or those photos you don’t know where to store yet can’t bring yourself to throw out. But pain is a lunatic landscape, where every piece, however misshapen, fits perfectly. In the context of facing life alone, her steel and neon boyfriend makes sense.