Adam Groff (Connor Swindells) is one of the central characters in Netflix’s Sex Education. He is first presented as the archetypal school bully, with a clenched fist of repressed masculinity. Yet beneath his aggressive exterior lies a nuanced exploration of queer identity, making his evolution from tormentor to tender-hearted bi one of the series’ most compelling arcs.
Adam’s transformation is catalyzed by his unlikely connection with Eric Effiong (Ncuti Gatwa), the very classmate he once targeted for being openly gay. Their season-one finale kiss — an act equal parts impulsive and inevitable — marks the first crack in Adam’s carefully constructed facade. What follows is a halting but heartfelt courtship, where Eric’s unwavering self-assurance becomes both a mirror and a lifeline for Adam’s suppressed attraction. The pinnacle of this journey arrives in the season-two finale, when Adam interrupts a school play to declare his love publicly: “I want to be your boyfriend.” This moment — raw, awkward, and breathtakingly brave — shatters the hypermasculine persona he’d inherited from his authoritarian father.
Season three complicates Adam’s hard-won progress. His inability to come out to his parents reignites old insecurities, manifesting as renewed aggression toward prying classmates. This regression is particularly painful for Eric, who recognizes the trauma of their past dynamic. The couple’s eventual breakup isn’t framed as a failure, but as a necessary step in Adam’s growth — a reminder that self-acceptance isn’t linear.
The series excels at portraying Adam’s sexuality in a raw, heartbreaking way. His confusion isn’t played for laughs; his attraction to women (like his earlier relationship with Aimee) isn’t erased after he comes out to Eric. Instead, the show normalizes bisexuality as a spectrum, one where Adam’s gruff demeanor and emotional guardedness coexist with his capacity for profound tenderness.
Crucially, Adam’s story challenges the trope of the “confused bi.” His journey — from internalized homophobia to tentative pride — reflects real-world struggles without reducing him to a cautionary tale. When he finally embraces his identity, it’s not with fanfare, but with the quiet relief of someone unshackling a weight they’d carried for way too long. By the end of the show, Adam emerges as Sex Education’s most unexpectedly poignant figure: proof that vulnerability can be the bravest act of all.