3

27

Ohio, USA

March 2014

Trigger Warnings: none

Words have power. I’m pretty sure everyone has learned that at some point in their lives. I always knew I was different. When I was a teenager and all my classmates were more interested in each other than in school I was baffled at why it was such a big deal whether you had a boyfriend or girlfriend. I had a few crushes but looking back I think I was more attracted to their kindness to me, the social outcast, than anything else. I knew I was different but I didn’t know what to call that difference so I assumed that I was broken, flawed in some way.

I tried to pretend I was normal. That I just hadn’t found my “type” yet. I assumed that someday I’d meet someone who I’d want to have sex with. I tried to once on a summer trip. It didn’t work out quite the way either of us had hoped I think. He enjoyed what we ended up doing. I just wondered why that was supposed to be enjoyable. After that I closed myself away from relationships. I had decided that the heartbreak wasn’t worth the effort. I wasn’t comfortable with it. I ended up crying more times than I care to think about but I didn’t know what else to do.

By the time I was 26 I’d heard of asexuality but assumed it didn’t apply to me. Sure people didn’t turn me on but I could still masturbate and enjoy it, if only rarely. The thought had never passed my mind at all that I could be anything but broken. Then, one day in the course of an AIM convo, Jacke linked me to the AVENwiki. I didn’t pay much attention immediately. It’d be months later during a fit of curiosity and despair that I’d actually look at the site. I was dumbstruck. Sure I’d known about bisexuals and homosexuals. I’d known and accepted them but here was a site telling me that I in fact might be asexual. Things that I’d experienced and just taken for granted as being a strange quirk of mine were shared with other people. The relief I felt was palpable. I finally had a word to sum up my experiences. A word that meant I wasn’t as alone as I’d felt all these years.

I haven’t shared this facet of my identity with many other people yet. I’m not sure they’d really understand. The last time I tried was when I…came out I guess is the phrase, to my mother. She was very supportive and she was just as sure that my problem was just low hormones. By that logic I was broken again, just something that could be fixed with time or medicine. So I don’t talk about it with people I see in my everyday life. I don’t want to feel broken all the time. I just pass myself off as heterosexual. It’s easier than fighting to make people understand.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s