An Asexual in a Sexual World

Cathy, 20, female, United States

I knew I was asexual before I even hit puberty. In elementary school people use to pretend they were getting married at recess, even kissing the person. People use to say that this person was their boyfriend or girlfriend as young as third grade, and I didn’t understand the reasoning behind this behavior. I thought they were incredibly stupid and immature for getting in relationships that weren’t going to lead anywhere. To me if you weren’t planning on getting married or having a long lasting friendship there was no reason to get a boyfriend. To me it seems like it was an endless swapping of people: one minute this person was with this person, the next minute they were with another person.

But I told myself not to be to judgmental, because I was just a late bloomer and I will want to get a boyfriend and doll myself up with makeup, clothes, and fingernail polish just like everyone else soon. But it never happened.

When I hit middle school I still wasn’t like everyone else, and it was becoming more apparent. I had what I thought was a normal crush on someone, but it wasn’t. I liked how smart he was and how he looked, but that was about it. I never imagined being his boyfriend or doing anything physical. Even something as simple as kissing was revolting to me. And when I saw people holding hands it was highly annoying, because I knew it meant nothing. It annoyed me even more when people said I love you, because to me there’s a difference between loving someone mentally and loving them physically, and I seemed to be the only person who knew the difference.

Then at the end of middle school, after parting with a very close friend, I got a huge (platonic) crush on a boy. I was always thinking about him and imagining hanging out with him and spending time with him. I wrote about him in all my diaries. I was quite obsessed with him. But even though I was obsessed with him I never once thought about him in a sexual way, even in my dreams. I loved how nice and smart he was. I thought he would have made the perfect friend. I guess I didn’t realize this wasn’t a normal crush. I confused a crush with wanting a friend because friends don’t come easy to me.
Then I heard the word asexual for the first time my first day of college. At first I thought it sounded stupid because I know humans can’t reproduce asexually, but when she explained it, it sounded a bit like me. So one day I researched it because I had nothing else to do and I couldn’t believe how much it sounded like me. My life suddenly made sense. I never knew there were other people like me I thought I was all alone.

Discovering my Asexuality, Self-Doubt, and Where I am Now

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L-Silvermoon, female, Australia.

I identify as a biromantic asexual.

For a really long time I thought I was heterosexual. Then I thought I was bisexual. I had the occasional crush when I was growing up – the first in grade five – and still do. But I’m fairly sure “crush” means a different thing to me than my friends.

I believe that the reason I identified as someone with sexual attraction for so long is the group of friends I had in high school. No-one talked about sex in our group; it was people gushing over appearances, or voices, or personalities. Or at least, they never talked about it with me. So I went through high school, never realising that people desired sex at that age (or I did know; but it was only in the abstract).

The first time I heard the word asexual was in maybe grade 12, a joke (or intuitive comment?) from a friend, which I almost immediately dismissed/forgot about. And then I joined tumblr, finding the asexual community there. As I researched more, I realised how this identity coincided with my own behaviour. It also became more obvious as I was surrounded by people in real life and on tumblr who discuss their sexual attraction more openly than my high school friends.

I’ve only told a few friends. Those that follow me on tumblr know, and one friend is openly supportive in real life (even going as far as explaining asexuality to other people). I don’t necessarily know what everyone thinks, but none of them have denied my experience in front of me. I haven’t told my family. Because of a deer-in-the-headlights reaction to a “what, are you gay?” (a response to me trying and failing to stop someone from making homophobic jokes) two of my family members think I’m bisexual. My mum is cool with that, which I knew she probably would be. But I don’t know how she would react if I told her I was ace, and only biromantic. So I’m not telling any relatives any time soon.

I still doubt myself. Do people really think about sex that much? Maybe I am just bisexual? As a side effect of discussions on tumblr about asexuality, I end up thinking more about sex than I ever have in my life. I’m thinking a lot about sex, does that mean I’m sexual, unlike what I thought? Am I sure that what I’m feeling is aesthetic/romantic attraction, not sexual? How am I even supposed to tell? What does sexual attraction even feel like?

But again, I’m really thinking about it in the abstract. Even when I think about me and sex, I don’t really imagine it. Sex squicks me out. [Other people’s] genitalia makes me uncomfortable. My most risqué dream is briefly kissing a girl (just a peck) and getting really embarrassed. I have never once thought “I’d do them” about a good-looking person. So even with my doubts, I think I’m comfortable using this label as an anchor to support me as I navigate the world of sexual attraction.

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Completing the Remaing Part of Me

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Jose, male, 20, Peru.

I started questioning my sexuality back in my first years of high school, when lots of my classmates suddenly got girlfriends (I should add that I attended an all-boys school) that they would brag about. They obviously had a different and “better” status now that they were not single: they weren’t little kids anymore. Most of these relationships were really fleeting as they were only based on looks and popularity. I should also add that there was an all-girls school close to mine, which made dating and the whole process or relationships easier. Even though I barely talked to any of the girls there, I did know who the “popular” ones were as my classmates would always talk about them. I started to wonder why those relationships had to be so shallow and not based on love, which obviously made no sense for someone who naively believed in that love you see in those good movies (aka me).

I felt pretty awkward and left-out when most classmates would talk about which girl they found hotter, which one was the “easiest,” etc. My idea of attraction or love didn’t really go that way, I was more focused on finding another girl like me, someone quiet yet kind who valued the inside rather than the outside. Sex wasn’t even on my mind; I actually felt pretty disgusted by the whole idea of being naked with another naked person. Obviously it didn’t help that the “popular” guys would make fun of these quiet girls, saying some of them were ugly, that they were “nobody” and it wasn’t worth hanging out with them.

As time went by I gradually accepted the fact that I could also have a relationship with someone of the same gender. I never really felt attracted (physically or emotionally) to any of the friends I had because I felt there had to be a special bond first, which never happened; let alone to my other classmates, who had totally different personalities and opposite views on life.

Once college started I made new friends, which included a girl who I stayed close with. I was pretty amazed at how similar we were, how we liked the same music, how we laughed at the same jokes, etc. We would talk a lot and hang out as well, all by ourselves. It had never crossed my mind that we were dating, we were just hanging out, and sharing nice moments. Everyone would suspect and said that we both liked each other, and stuff like that (people never seem to believe in friendship between a guy and a girl). Nevertheless, I started to like her. I was not in love, but I really liked her as a friend and enjoyed her company a lot. We would talk more, hang out more… I gradually became more disappointed when I got to know her more, though. I realized she wasn’t the person I used to know in the beginning, and whenever we talked, we didn’t really talk about deeper things (e.g: what we wanted to do in the future, what made us happy, etc.) but more about petty matters. We gradually drifted apart because I somehow felt lied to, on how she was showing another side of her I didn’t even know existed. We’re still “friends”, and occasionally talk, but again, always about petty matters, not really about deeper things.

I also met an asexual friend in college, but I misunderstood the meaning of that word. I’d always thought it meant someone who did not want any type of relationship with anyone whatsoever. It wasn’t until some time (and recently) that I decided to find out more about who I really was and surprise! I was a biromantic asexual. I just wished I could’ve asked this friend more about asexuality, but either way I feel happy now that I really know who I am.

Despite not having had any luck in love, I’d like to believe that one day I will bond with the right person and eventually will have someone to love.

Wish you all good luck and don’t be ashamed of who you are!

Tabitha’s Story

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Tabitha, female, 19, United States.

It’s the opening to the typical ‘coming out’ story: I knew I was asexual when I was a kid. Well, perhaps not specifically, but I knew that I wasn’t interested in sex. It was middle school, seventh grade, when ninety percent of the school population was going through puberty, and everyone was talking about sex. I was simply uninterested, but at the time I never gave it a second thought. To me, I was just ‘a late bloomer,’ and I simply accepted that philosophy as the years went on. By junior year, I felt uncomfortable when my friends talked about sex lives, theirs or otherwise. I hid the cringe when my friends spent the entire lunch period making sex jokes. I got up and walked away when I could, preferring to take myself out of the conversation rather than asking them to change the topic. I couldn’t stand when my friend hit on me. By senior year, being a ‘late bloomer’ seemed a bit of a stretch of the imagination, but I didn’t know any better. Up until halfway through my senior year, I didn’t even know that asexuality was a real sexual orientation. I’d never heard of it before, until someone that I followed on tumblr answered an ask about her sexuality.

The first moment I realized that I was asexual was a bit anticlimactic. I was sitting in my literature class and we were discussing sexual symbolism in things like Ethan Frome and interpretations of Hamlet, and the thought blindsided me in the middle of the class period: “I have never once been interested in sex or sexual behaviour. Maybe I’m asexual, too?”

At first, I refused to identify as asexual. Not because I was in denial, or because I didn’t want to be queer or whatever, but because I felt guilty. Asexuality was a horrendously underrepresented part of the queer community, and I didn’t want to be some straight girl coming into the space and abusing that label. I did research on AVEN, learned about the different orientations on the asexual spectrum, and eventually felt comfortable, knowing enough, to confidently call myself asexual. It took a lot of soul searching, after spending eighteen years thinking I was just heterosexual with a piece missing, but I embraced it. I’ve since delved into the ace community, met some of the other one percent, and am just generally a lot happier knowing something so important about myself!

A Funny Thing Happened On the Way To Adulthood

Luna, 20, United States.

My parents are very open-minded people who had an incredibly liberal outlook on how to raise children. I was educated in the parts of the male and female body and how babies were made from a very early age, along with the typical reading and writing. I feel that it is a result of this early exposure that I have never felt awkward about sex, merely fascinated by the biological process. And my parents never had any qualms about what we discussed over dinner, so many family discussions revolved around sex and sexuality. Basically by the time I got to middle school I knew what was going to be happening to my body in terms of puberty and I was ready for these changes. I was ready for the mood swings, the growth spurts, and my sexual awakening, whatever orientation it might be.

Well, two outta three isn’t bad.

But I wasn’t too worried, I knew from my books that not everyone developed at the same pace, that everyone was different and I would get there in my own time. Other people around me already seemed to know their orientation, even if they were outside of the Big Three. Like this one guy, he identified as this thing called asexual. Well, I could roll with that, I mean it wasn’t so different from how I felt at the time. Sex? Meh. Dating? Ugh, do I have to socially interact? It’s so tiring.

By high school my outlook hadn’t changed too much, and I finally started to question. I joined my school’s GSA and started to meet people. After some self-examination, I decided that I wasn’t into men, but I wasn’t sure about women. I’ve always found the female body type more aesthetically pleasing than men, but I wasn’t sure if that equated to sexual attraction or not. With this in mind I began to cruise the internet. First stop: Wikipedia. Ok, this is promising. Next up, Google. That was when I found posts by asexuals about their experiences and issues and feelings and I knew I had found kindred spirits.

Now of course the tricky part was my friends and family. As I was about half-way through junior year, most of my friends had a very clear picture in their heads about who I was. For the most part I let it lie; if the opportunity presented itself I spoke up, but otherwise I kept quiet. I saw no need to be fiercely out when that may have disrupted relationships that I was perfectly happy with. My family was a different matter though. They knew, or had some idea that I wasn’t straight. My interest in LGBTA and my general lack of dates had been dead giveaways.

My brother was the first one I told, and he accepted it with a typical eye roll and a look that clearly said “whatever, you do your thing and I’ll do mine.” My mother was a little more sticky, she gave me the “late bloomer” line. I showed her the Wikipedia page and let her go from there. She must have told my dad because when I was finally able to bring it up in conversation with him he didn’t seem surprised.

I really hit the ground running in college though. This time I was solid in my identity, so all of my friends knew about my asexuality before midterms first semester. While this may not have been what 10 year old me was expecting when I thought about my future, I really wouldn’t have it any other way. This is the way things progressed, naturally, and I’d like to think that if this keeps up, everything will happen the way they’re supposed to. It’s worked so far.

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