... being 28... and never having even...

held hands with someone i like who also likes me; kissed anyone without it being against my will (just the one time dw); of listening to friends sit and talk about their various relationships... and one night stands... and how people find them ‘hot’... and how hot they find other people... where we live in a world where ‘i would’ is the gold standard for whether someone is a valuable person or not

it’s something i think about all the time.  thought about for years.  years and years and years and years and years.

and it’s a difficult one. because in some ways i want all that.

in other ways i dont

in some ways i want to be objectified.  in 28 years of living in this stupid society where we’re taught that looks make you more valued than literally anything else, i’ve never been told i’m pretty // hot // gorgeous // fit without people feeling like they’ve been prompted first somehow.  (or they’re joking haha ow)

that’s fine, i guess, i know i’m not, and this is not a call for attention, please dont leave comments to the contrary, that’s not what i mean, that’s not what i want, that’s not what i need, because it wont mean anything.  in my entire life there’s only been, like, 5 people i’d genuinely want to hear that from anyway, (and even then, do i? i dont even know, god) and those times have worn me down, shown me im not ‘worth it’.  it’s too much effort.  i dont want to care.

and do i want to hear it?  i dont know, because in other ways i want to tear myself apart for even thinking that’s what i want.  

even ive had guys come up to me in london when im alone and try to talk to me, tell me things that make my skin crawl, and it’s the worst thing.  but for a second, just a second, it makes you think.  maybe im worth something.  maybe im good enough.  being viewed as a sexual object, something maybe pretty, wow, maybe that means i mean something.

hah.  how fucking disgusting.

anyway, like i said, it’s difficult

the irony of it all is that in a lot of ways, this is all a choice ive made.  i treat a decent percentage of guys with a constant vigilance, always wary of a likely non-existent ulterior motive; also ironic given i pretty much believe that it’s impossible for someone to feel ~like that~ about me.  it’s about as frustrating as it sounds to have this all going in my head, let alone paired with the complicated mental loops that come from being asexual.  im on constant mental lockdown whether i like it or not, despite not having to have gone through even 1% of the objectification and creepy offers from even creepier guys that my ‘’’hot’’’ friends have.  

which, again, im sometimes actually jealous of, whilst also being terrified of, because the human condition is horrendous and desperate for any kind of attention, i guess.

i also get jealous when girls can show casual affection without worrying that it’ll come across as ‘flirty’ or like they have some ulterior motive (though they might i guess, but then the point here is that they dont care), but hey, you know, constant vigilance, lockdown.  or possibly i am simply respecting boundaries?  hmm.  hmmmmmmmmmmmm.  

i dont really know what i’m trying to get across here.  just that ‘normal’ is a construct and maybe in x years i’ll look back on this and laugh but for now im feeling beat down and like the 45th wheel and like love is all around me from a three feet perimeter and i still dont even know if i want that perimeter to break or if im perfectly content with it staying right 

the fuck 

One of the most interesting phenomena I’ve noticed when it comes to sexuality is just how many labels are flying about nowadays.  They pop up like daisies, more and more everyday, like people are trying to pigeonhole every tiny little aspect of the human experience that they can find.

I’m not complaining, though.

Here’s the thing about labels: they make the label-ee feel welcome.  Before I knew about the general concept of ‘asexuality’, I was worried; scared, even.  I had no idea what was going on with me, why I felt the way I did (or, well, didn’t), whether or not I was the only one.  (Quick tip: in a world of 7 billion people, you’re never the only one.  Comforting?  Disheartening?  I’m not sure.)  When I first realised asexuality was a thing that other people experienced, that I wasn’t alone, it was like seeing the light.  I found AVEN. I found solidarity.

It’s funny to think I was brought up in a world that believed we were boxed into heterosexual and homosexual, and maybe bisexuality got a mention in if you were lucky.  Now, there’s an entire spectrum of asexuality.  Some say it’s too much, and okay, maybe it’s a bit overwhelming when someone comes at you listing off words like ‘demisexual, autochorissexual, gray ace, aromantic, demiromantic’, but to dismiss it all off hand purely based on quantity is just being lazy.

If you’re reading that and thinking, ‘well, why hide it?’ then kudos, you’re probably a decent human being who doesn’t place immediate prejudice on another person for being wired differently to you.  Or, alternatively, you just don’t know what ‘asexual’ really means in a human context (not a plant context - trust me, that one got old the very first time), so here it is, as plain as I can make it:

Asexuality defines a lack of sexual attraction.

I just.. don’t feel it.  At all.  Like, ever.  It’s as foreign to me as the idea of not feeling sexual attraction likely is to sexuals (also known as ‘allos’ in the ace community sometimes).  

Now, if you’re still asking yourself, ‘why hide it’, then well done, you’ve passed the test.  I’m so proud.  Have a baked good of your choice. Here’s the primary answer:

People are jerks.  

The responses I’ve had when I have put my trust in people and told them I’m asexual have ranged from pure and utter confusion, outright denial, name-calling (’freak’, ‘broken’), asking if I’ve ever been abused (the answer to which is a defiant no), making the plant jokes, and more.  People just do not want to accept it, and hey, I kind of get it.  I’ve met people who don’t like chocolate before, but the difference there is I accept their decision and enjoy more chocolate for myself, because their dislike of chocolate doesn’t directly affect me.

I guess the second question might be ‘why now?’  Simple answer: I’m tired.  I’d rather be able to just.. be myself, without having to worry about stigma.  That’d be nice.

Anyway I have a lot of thoughts which I’m sure I’ll end up using this blog for.  I’m also leaving the inbox open if you want to have some ace ranting or ace musing at someone who gets it.