Settle in kids, this is going to be a long one.
I started this blog nine years ago as a sort of self-therapy
to figure out my issues with men, dating and sex. I suppose it has been that
but up until about two months ago it was really more of a misguided attempt to
make myself fit into the rigid mold my culture (and many if not most other
cultures) has for women. That is to say as a seemingly heterosexual woman I
should be married to, or at the very least involved with, a heterosexual man
producing, or on the way to producing babies. As I have continued to fail these
requirements I have spent the better part of my life trying to figure out, that
is agonize over, why. It never once occurred to me that all of my struggles
were due to the ridiculous expectations I was forcing myself to live up to and
that I may actually be different than everyone else. I have always taken pride
in the idea of being unique, but actually being different is a whole new
ball game that takes a lot of insight and self-acceptance to play.
Last February I watched the documentary (A)sexual and successfully talked myself out of identifying with it
for a variety of reasons, one of which is I don’t think the film was done
effectively with respect to helping people like me understand how my experiences/desires
fit under the umbrella of asexuality. Another of which is I didn’t do enough
research because I couldn’t handle identifying as a sexual minority. So I put
it out of mind. (Consequently I feel this
short documentary is way more informative. Skip the first
30 seconds as the visuals are kind of off-putting as well as antithetical to
the documentary’s message. I identified with many of the asexuals interviewed
unlike those in (A)sexual who mostly
seemed sex averse and bordered on if not outright identified as having
Asperger’s.)
But the truth is pretty simple. I am asexual. It just took me another year to come across the term
again, look a little deeper into myself and accept it. It still feels strange to say but I'm warming to it.
The accepted and purposely
broad definition of an asexual person is someone who does not
experience sexual attraction (to any gender). It does not explain or define
how they feel about actual sexual experience, which is a completely different
thing, nor does it explain or define how they feel about and experience other
types of attraction, namely romantic or emotional. Asexuality is a spectrum
just as hetero, homo and bisexuality are. Many asexuals have and enjoy sex both
with others as well as alone. It only means there is no sexual attraction
preceding the act. There are also asexuals who are indifferent to sex and yet
others who do not like sex and want nothing to do with it. This is partly why
asexuality is not an easy thing to understand nor identify with when you first
learn about it…at least it was for me. I am still processing what it means to
and for me but I can now say that I fully identify as an asexual. In reading
over past posts, especially the one
I wrote about seeing the documentary, it is so obvious it’s amazing
how I could have ever denied it. If asexuality wasn’t so invisible maybe it
would have been different but this is how my story goes:
About two months ago I came across the headline “What
It’s Like to Date a Demisexual”. I remembered a commenter on my (A)sexual post who had called themselves
a demisexual and even that I felt like it sort of applied to me, but I couldn’t
remember exactly what it was. So I clicked on it and the first line sucked me
in.
“I grew up assuming that I was 'normal'. I thought that other people were like me and that I was
like them. As I got older, though, I realized that something just wasn't quite
right.”
And then I read this:
“Most people use dates to get to know a
person, whereas I need to connect with someone on a deeper level even to want
to date them.”
Bells went off in my head. That is exactly how I feel but people
have always made me think I was weird because of it. I related to so much of
the article I immediately started researching demisexuality. It lead me back to
asexuality which I then saw in a whole new light. Actually, what I saw was me.
What I felt was relief. There was nothing wrong with me nor was I alone. It was
short lived for the doubts immediately started creeping in, but I absolutely
could not deny it the same way I did the first time because I knew it was true.
Nothing in my life regarding men and
sex had ever made sense to me but the
more I read the clearer my life became. It was a rush of emotions all at once
and I immediately told K. She read another article I found and the first thing she said was, “you make so much more
sense now.” We’ve known each other since we were thirteen and yet neither of us
knew how to talk about my behavior. We talked about boys sure but somehow we
never asked the right questions.
If you are a long time reader you might
remember phrasing I’ve used like my biochemistry is off and I’ve only been
sexually attracted to a small number of men. Turns out that was my way of
explaining my asexuality because it was the only language I had to describe it.
But neither is accurate. In looking back at the guys that I have had crushes
on, (and ones I might have said I wanted to have sex with which was me pushing
myself to conform to “normalcy”) only one comes anywhere near what I think
being sexually attracted might feel like. I remember really wanting to kiss him
and thinking sex could be a possibility, but I’m pretty sure that is childlike
compared to what sexual people must feel when they see someone they are
attracted to. I imagine it is similar to a food craving. It’s physical and not
something you can control having but that’s the closest I can get.
The crushes I have had on guys might
seem strange in light of not being sexually attracted to them and that is
something I had to wrap my head around right away in order to understand
asexuality. I had always conflated sexual attraction with romantic attraction
because that’s how I interpreted the world and all its messaging. I’d never
understood how someone could have sex with someone they didn’t actually like. Forgive
the arrogance of quoting myself but it’s fascinating to go back and see how I
was asking the exact questions an asexual asks, but it never occurred to
me to research why I was asking those
questions in order to discover my asexuality:
“Attraction
and love are relative things and for me it seems they should follow one another
in leading up to sex. So why does it seem to me everyone and their mother is
able to separate the two things? Even reverse them? I guess it’s normal to have
sex with someone you’re attracted to and not in love with (at least for
everyone who isn't me) but how do people have sex with someone they’re not
attracted to? Do people really need to have sex that badly? Why don’t I have
that drive?”
Understanding the difference in types
of attractions led to understanding how I could have crushes on guys and not
want to sleep with them. When I think about the guy I want to be with I imagine
us snuggling on a couch. (It's a scene I’ve admittedly conjured a few times with yogajoe).
The fact that most people imagine sex with the one they want to be with is
totally alien to me. If I wanted to further label myself I would say I am a
heteroromantic asexual. I like men and want to be in a deep emotional
relationship with one, but I don’t really care about having intercourse with
him. It doesn’t mean that I never will, and there is even a possibility that I
could develop sexual attraction to a guy after falling in love with him (demisexuality)
but at the moment it is not a priority in any way. There is a whole list of sub
labels too complicated to go into right now, but you get the picture. Asexuality
is an umbrella with a spectrum of experiences beneath it just like hetero,
homo, bi, and pan sexualities.
But let’s go back to the beginning for
a moment. I may have written about this before so forgive the repetition, but
I’ve known since I hit puberty that I was different. I couldn’t figure out why
I always felt out of place because I had always had friends and crushes on guys
so it seemed like I was ‘normal’. But something was off. When everyone around
me starting obsessing about sex I just figured I was a late bloomer and if I’m
honest that I was just more mature because I had control. I still wanted a
boyfriend but the more sex became an issue the more afraid I became, thanks to
mom and all her boys only want one thing
mantra. I was afraid of STDs and getting pregnant, also thanks to mom, so I
just avoided the whole mess and concentrated on getting into a good college. Despite
the crushes I may have had feeling like I might be broken began invading my
thoughts.
Then I went to college and that feeling
of being different subsided slightly, I think because I was so deeply involved
with Jean,
but it was still there. I (inwardly and outwardly though Jean was never very
supportive about it) lamented about not having a boyfriend but couldn’t do much
about it. The fear of rape began to grow at this point I think as I was
inundated with stories about girls being raped at parties and when they walked
anywhere alone at night on campus. So again, I mostly avoided guys and
concentrated on trying to have fun and figuring out what I wanted to do with my
life. I have also come to understand my relationship with Jean as being much
more than a regular friendship, something I never allowed myself to think
before because it was not sexual and it seemed weird to call it anything else.
I beat myself up time and time again for not being able to get over how she
treated me and how I let myself fall so low because she was just a friend. It was just a toxic friendship.
But I was doing myself a disservice in calling it that. In the short
documentary I mentioned above they use the term "queerplatonic" to describe
relationships that run emotionally deeper than regular friendships but is not
sexual. That is exactly what I had with Jean, which is why it has affected me so
deeply and for so long. I guess at this point it just always will. K says I
talk about her like people talk about ex spouses, but it’s not about sex. It’s
about the emotional bond and when she broke ours she broke my heart. Because I
never allowed myself to think about it in those terms I never grieved it
properly. I guess it’s as simple as that.
When I finally freed myself from her I moved back home to
help my mother heal from a nervous breakdown, and also to help myself heal after
all I’d been through. The depression, the night hallucinations, the
self-hatred, the rage…I had to recover my own identity and remember what it was
like to live life for myself without any obligations to Jean. This is when M
and I bonded as she had been in a similar abusive relationship with her best
friend and had just gotten out of it. If I’m totally honest with myself it was
yet another queerplatonic relationship but at the same time it was at the
opposite end of the spectrum as my relationship with Jean. M adored me and worshipped
everything I did. She encouraged me and gave me back my self-confidence. We
helped each other through the aftermath of breaking up with our respective best
friends. She put me on a pedestal I ultimately couldn’t handle. I told her to
stop but she couldn’t help herself and eventually told me she was in love with
me, something she later retracted. We had our own ups and downs and over the
course of the years have grown distant, and despite the fact that she ended up
hurting me in a completely different way than Jean I will always be grateful to
her for helping me rebuild myself after a long, painful chapter. In the
meantime I used all of this as yet another excuse to ignore men, dating and
sex. But to my own credit, there was no way I could have had a healthy
relationship in that state.
About a year after I got away from Jean and six months after
9/11 I quit my job and backpacked across Europe for six weeks as a sort of
celebration of recovering myself and of life after experiencing the horror of
the city’s tragedy. When I got home I felt refreshed and like myself again. I
eventually moved out of my parents’ house, got a new job and joined the ranks
of the living. It wasn’t long before the issue of men, dating and sex came back
into focus though and my feeling of being broken became more pronounced. This
time I attributed it to my fear of being raped and to my new fear of being
emotionally devastated again. I didn’t trust anyone. In time I gained a few new
friends, a terrible back stabbing boss, more bouts with depression and a new
and fun feeling of isolation, but I was ok. For the most part. I started this
blog around that time and really thought I’d be able to find my way out of the
maze inside my head. Instead I just started running in larger, more complicated
circles.
Over the next couple of years I fought harder and harder
with myself about what I was supposed to be doing and what I was actually
doing, what I was supposed to be feeling and what I was actually feeling, and
dug a hole so deep I’m surprised I can see out of it. I use the present tense
because I don’t think I’m quite done pulling myself out of it yet. I’m getting
there, but it will take some time. The therapy and antidepressants a few years
ago were worth it in that it brought me out of the dysthymic depression I was
in but it never got to the heart of the matter. I dealt more fully with the
experience with Jean but my therapist never offered insight on it being more
than a friendship or why it affected me so deeply. I don’t know that it would
have necessarily lead to discovering my asexuality but I think it says a lot
about the work I have done on myself to try to understand my life.
I went back and read all of the posts from 2006. With the
aid of time and my newfound knowledge of asexuality, it breaks my heart a
little to see how much I suffered not knowing. How easy it would have been for
me to see the light sooner if I had just thought to type some of my questions
into a search. Instead I thought I was alone. And broken. It is such a common
theme among people, asexuals in particular, who are different and don’t have
the language to describe why.
“Every time I visit him or he visits me, I hope for the
chemistry and at the same time know at this point it
doesn't seem likely that I'll let myself feel it anyway…Why am I so obsessed
with that spark?
And why haven't I really felt any chemistry with
anyone? Can I really do that much inhibiting with my mind?”
I believed
for so long that I was repressing sexual attraction because what else could it
be? Every single other person on earth experienced sexual attraction. Or so I
thought. I was unaware people existed who don’t.
“I don't
really see my virginity as something I'm hanging onto, because I'd gladly lose
it if I could find someone I wanted to lose it to. And yes I hope it'll be
someone I'm in love with, but at this point, I'll settle for someone I have
chemistry with and who makes me feel comfortable (which I have to say again is
odd that I haven't come across someone like this. I'd say I was comfortable
with myself and my body, so I don't think that's the issue. Am I mixing up
comfort with safety? If so, why am I so obsessed with feeling safe?)…I don't
know why I'm trying to justify my normalness. It only enables the stereo-typers
to raise their eyebrows and nod their heads. Considering this blog is pretty
much a one sided conversation, maybe I'm just trying to convince myself I'm
not a lost cause. Maybe one day I'll even
figure out how to help me help myself.”
I
have spent so much time trying to force myself into being the woman people
expected me to be and even having the dreams people expected me to have. I’m
supposed to be having sex. I’m supposed to want to be married. I’m supposed to
want to have babies. I never allowed myself to imagine it was ok to not want
these things. Rather, I never allowed myself to be ok with not wanting these things because I wanted to fit in just
like everyone else. Instead I just kept worrying and wondering why I couldn’t
seem to achieve any of them. The only reason I have ever cared about being a
virgin is because of the stigma that comes with it. Because other people think
I’m weird, mental, abused, or frigid for being one. The only reason I’ve posted
about wanting sex is because I was talking myself into wanting it in order to
be normal. I’ve struggled with the concept of sex for so long I literally
confused myself about it; living by society’s dictate that I should be having
it directly contradicted my (unexpressed) lack of wanting it. In truth I could
care less about being a virgin. In truth, I could care less about sex. That
doesn’t mean I’ll never have it, but it’s not on my list of priorities. And
that freaks people out mostly because they don’t understand that you can have a
deep emotional relationship with someone without also wanting to have sex with
them. I can’t say for sure that I will never in my life experience sexual
attraction, for as I said before if I am a demisexual and meet someone I fall
in love with I could develop sexual attraction, but I do know that I have never
experienced it so far in life.
After
researching and eventually fully identifying with asexuality it was like stepping
back from a Seurat painting. Instead of a bunch of random dots I finally saw the
whole picture. All the things I never understood about my behavior and
motivations suddenly became clear. And best of all, feeling broken was no
longer on my list of daily emotions. I understand now why I seem to be immune
to most advertising. Why I never bothered as a teen with all those women’s
magazines that constantly harp on sex. Why I didn’t lose my mind when New Kids
on the Block came out. Why the only poster of a guy I had on my wall growing up
was Patrick Swayze (because Dirty Dancing). Why imagining having sex is so
difficult. Why I don’t naturally and randomly think about sex. Why dating has
been so hard. That one took a little more unpacking because it was wrapped up
in my fear of being raped.
After finally admitting to myself that I am completely
indifferent toward sex, I realized why the threat of rape became so
overwhelming. Not experiencing the physical urge for sex I feel no want or need
to have it. There is no motivation. As a result the only way my brain could
process having sex was if it was forced or coerced, especially due to my
mother’s teachings as well as the world’s for that matter. I understood men’s
sexuality as something that was uncontrollable. Once they got started they
couldn’t stop. I never believed I could say stop and he would stop. News
articles about rape across the world every day reinforced this belief. Our hypersexualized culture taught me I
should be having sex (whether I wanted it or not as a woman isn’t really
important), that I should be dressing and behaving in a manner which invites
sex, and that men want and should be given sex all the time. For someone who
has never felt the desire to be sexual with another person it is terrifying. I never thought about enjoying
it and never questioned why that was. For someone so hell bent on self-analysis
that is crazy, especially because I'm well aware of how great orgasms feel. Self-love
is a completely different sexual activity that is not determined one way or
another under asexuality. I used to think, why
bother getting a boyfriend when he's only going to want it all the time and I
won't? It will inevitably cause problems and then it'll be over. I can't
believe I never turned the question around and asked myself why I thought I'd
never enjoy/want it myself. It didn't help that I constantly came across stories
about how often women faked it and how men really didn't know how to please a
woman. So I thought, why does anyone
bother? I just thought women only did it for men and I wasn't willing to do
that. I assumed that at some point in a vague and distant future I'd want it,
but it would never be as much as he did and because he had no control over
himself there would be no discussion about what was going to happen. I had no
say. It is absolutely no wonder why I never really tried to get into a
relationship when the only way I saw it existing was if I was constantly powerless.
I'd already been powerless under Jean for almost six years, only two of which
were fun and mutually beneficial.
Reading over this post
from last year when my fear of rape was at an all time high made me want to
examine the relationships of any kind that I have had with men throughout my
life. I realized my fear only extended to those I felt showed any interest in
dating me. I can say pretty confidently that all of the guys who have been in
my life, outside of the two or three I met elsewhere and briefly dated, are
ones who I interacted or interact with on a daily basis. That is to say sat in
classes, lived in dorms, or worked in an office with over an extended period
and got to know relatively well. And I
really like all of them. As people, as professionals, as guys…as friends. I
guess I wouldn’t really consider them friends if I didn’t, but it made me
realize that I had somehow blinded myself to the fact that I do know good men.
My father being first and foremost! How I grew up with such a kind, patient and
passive male influence and yet went on to feel threatened by all men is a
mystery. All I can say is fear is really powerful and oppressive.
But I digress. There are those who will and do dismiss asexuality
when and if they even know it exists. Dan Savage, a well-known gay rights
activist, says in (A)sexual that
asexuals are just people who haven’t come out of the closet. Or who are just
making noise because they want attention. For him asexuality isn’t real. I
actually understand why he feels the need to negate asexuality, because through
his eyes it is intruding upon the work he has done to get recognition of gay
rights and because asexuals are not actively discriminated against. But as
someone who has surely suffered in life because of his difference from the norm
he should at least make an effort to understand the reality of the experience.
If he could feel how I have felt for the past 25 years he would have no doubt
it’s real. The last thing I want or need is attention for my difference but
being invisible has certainly taken its toll. There are others who try to
pathologize it saying it’s just hormonal and can be fixed. Most asexuals actually
have normal levels and taking hormones does not change the lack of sexual
attraction. Though the term asexuality is gaining traction as an orientation some
in the medical field still regard it as Hypoactive Sexual
Desire Disorder, just as homosexuality was once called a disorder. But it
isn’t. It’s not something that happened to me. It’s not fixable. I didn’t
choose it. There are some who think I just haven’t found the right guy. Other asexuals
who have had sex are told they just haven’t had good sex yet. I’m not sure why it’s so hard to believe that an
absence of attraction exists. Kinsey even reported it.
If you can be attracted to the opposite gender, the same gender, both genders,
or other types of genders, isn’t it logical that you can not be attracted to any gender? There
has not been a ton of research yet but the little that has been done found that
about 1% - 3% of the popoulation is asexual in both humans and animals.
I take great comfort in finally finding a community I feel
like I belong to, regardless of how much or how little I participate in it. I
have joined AVEN, the site asexuals
usually find first. Reading the boards as well as seeing an increase in
articles about asexuality has brought a real sense of relief to my life. As I
said I am still processing and trying to figure out how to move forward with
finding a life partner but I feel like I have a new perspective on things. One
that maybe is a little more hopeful, at least at present. I am also still working out my real feelings about sex and sexual activity, which fluctuate as I imagine they do for most people on any given day. I have ‘come out’ so
to speak to most of my close friends, all of who actually knew about asexuality. I
could only say, why didn’t you tell me
about it? But they have all been really amazing and supportive and it makes
me feel great to have such genuine, kind friends who care about me. I also told
my brother who is gay and we bonded over how much society influenced how we
felt about ourselves, and how difficult it was/is to tell our parents. I am
going to tell them in a few weeks when I visit and I am a little worried about
it. They are both in their 70s and I am pretty sure have never heard of
asexuality. I hadn’t and I’m 37. Their
generation has barely gotten a handle on homosexuality…it’s not that I think
they will reject me or anything like that, but I know they will have a hard
time with it. I think my mom will say I just haven’t met the right man and my
dad will pathologize it and say I just need hormones. Whether or not they say
these things out loud doesn’t matter, I know they’ll think them. It will be
hard for them to hear that another of their children has suffered due to their sexuality
especially with something as ambiguous as asexuality, which so many people
think isn’t real or is a disorder than can be fixed. It really just hurts to
know that they will be disappointed that their daughter has not and will not
live a “normal” life. (Not that they are disappointed in me, but rather in life’s unfolding.) That is not to say I will
never get married or adopt a baby (I’m 99% sure I will never birth a child) but
suffice to say my life has never been normal by our culture’s standards. Sexuality
aside, as a mutli-ethnic, strong willed, independent, single woman in her late
30s I am not the norm. But there was always the hope that I’d fall in line and
do what everyone else does regarding love and marriage. I even harbored it. I’m
still working on the evolution of that hope to fit what I actually want and not what I am expected to want but it is
surprisingly hard to let go of beliefs you’ve had forever despite knowing
they’re incredibly flawed. At least now I am finally grounded in an identity
that makes sense to me. Hopefully it will empower me to choose my own direction
instead of being lead.
All in all I think I laid out a relatively good plan in my
very first post, though I no longer believe there is one common thing life is about for everyone.
“My plan is not to make this a pity-party but to work out my
fears, get over them and attempt to find a loving, intimate relationship with
someone. Because really, isn't that what life is about?”
After nine
years I think I’m finally one step closer, which for me is a mountain’s
crossing from where I started.
Some really great asexuality references if interested:
And some great articles out of the media machine:
Asexuality:
The 'X' In A Sexual World – Huffington Post, 2013
Interview With an Asexual Clarifying What I Got Wrong About Asexuality – Jezebel, 2015
An
Orientation to Asexuality – CNN, 2014
Life
Without Sex: The Third Phase of the Asexuality Movement – The Atlantic,
2012
ASEXUALS:
Who Are They and Why Are They Important? – Psychology Today, 2009
