Unfortunately Not a Real Pony

I've seen a number of "how to write female/queer/minority characters well" articles over the years, and I've read enough awful writing to understand where they're coming from, but as a head-in-the-clouds autist who creates blobs of personality and backstory and then adds identities almost as an afterthought, I can't always bite back the snarky three-step response: 

1. Convince yourself that marginalized people are in fact full people.
2. No, seriously, make sure you are fully and completely convinced on that point.
3. Write them like you would write people (including people in a hostile or bigoted environment).

Me, an aroace from a very sex-negative culture: Why are romance and sex scenes so difficult to write?

I am extremely picky about love stories in fiction generally: a number of common romance conventions annoy or even infuriate me (not backing off after "no" as a show of how strong someone's feelings are; love being demonstrated primarily by jealous behaviors; the cliched third act misunderstanding), either because it's so contrary to how I experience love, or because it's just bloody dysfunctional.

Queer love stories, in addition to these pitfalls, also have two common things I'm not particularly interested in reading at this point in my life: the queer awakening and coming to terms plotline, and the bigotry. We need stories that deal with both of these, and I fully encourage people to read and write them. They're just not for me - I'm not joking when I say I've been out longer than some of my subscribers have been alive. I want my stories to have queer people who exist and do awesome (and mundane) things and it's not a big deal.

My latest bodily issue: heartburn that feels strangely like a panic attack.

Me: Ah yes, I am going to just vomit every painful family issue I ever experienced into this novel.

My spouse: This is the best thing you've ever written. I love this book.

My gardening group had a professional chef come to give a demonstration. I can't speak to her skills as a chef, however, she told us:

• "Don't eat white quinoa. It's bleached and worse for you than red or black quinoa." (White, red, and black quinoa are just different varieties.)
• "You should use avocado oil in moderation and stick to olive oil for the most part. Olive oil has less fat in it." (Oil is literally liquid fat. It's all fat.)
• "Only eat kosher or iodized salt, because your body can't actually absorb table salt." (Your body absorbs table salt just fine. Kosher salt is table salt in bigger flakes, and iodized salt is table salt with small amounts of iodine.)
• "Kohlrabi is a good vegetable to eat, it contains probiotics." (Not unless it's been fermented.)

I weep for this nation.

What I said: I'm genderqueer, I can't be straight or gay by definition, and I won't date anyone who is either.

What I meant: My experience of gender is complex and fluid, and I need my partner to understand this and identify as some form of multisexual to encompass every aspect of my gender. I myself have been attracted to multiple genders and am a proud bisexual.

What people say in response: But actually though, the word straight/gay DOES include attraction to you because [tie themselves into knots forcing me into their bigoted dichotomy]!

My workplace is pushing AI at us very hard, and the doublespeak from both our leadership and the AI company itself is something else:

"It's a great tool to improve your productivity! Oh, but don't rely on it, of course, it makes plenty of mistakes. But it's really helpful!"

I can't disable it on my computer, so if I don't want to deal with "helpful" suggestions (and waste huge amounts of water and power), I have to start doing weird workarounds.

Me: I don't understand what this song is about. I'll watch the music video.

Me, three and a half minutes later: Now I'm more confused.