#cyprith

To an extent, I agree, but to an extent I’m not so sure. Definitely we asexual people should recognize that other people are feeling and experiencing things we might not share. People also should not speak or act as if sexual attraction is a universal experience or as if it needs to be. 

But in the opposite direction, I think we can all recognize what it feels like to not be experiencing sexual attraction.

A non-asexual friend I’m talking with on Skype actually gave me a really useful term to pinpoint the groups I’m trying to talk about & with: “people who don't want (certain kinds of) sex.” 

Which is virtually everyone, I think.

Some people don’t want sex at all. Some people only want sex in a certain form, a certain kind of relationship, with certain people. Some people enjoy sex often and in many different ways, but they still find certain acts lack appeal, or are only appealing under the right circumstances. Some of these preferences are expressed in the language of sexual identity, some are expressed as kinks or fetishes (or squicks!), and some have no formal expression. Not all of these preferences feel equally important to the people who have them, and they can have different impacts when expressed broadly, but they all *exist*. 

So I do feel like when it comes to not wanting sex, not feeling attracted, and/or not being aroused, there’s a commonality here that can be built on, or at least *understood*.

At least one complication can come when people can recognize “I’m not currently feeling aroused or sexually attracted or willing to have sex” as something that happens, but not as a constant state. Sexual desire shapes their lives in ways they can’t imagine not experiencing (not necessarily because they’re selfish or unwilling; they might not even realize these patterns are there. I know for my part, even when I try to be conscious, it’s hard to imagine what my life would be like if I didn’t have rare but significant crushes on other people, or if I didn’t have a libido. These things aren’t constant for me, but when they do happen they have an impact even bigger than I’m aware of). 

Keene tilts forward on the bed, elbows digging into the creaking mattress and knees scraping gritty-rough on the worn carpet. Grunts, sweat trickling behind his ear, down his neck, and Calamity’s dry hand only rests on the small of his back. Unable to reach farther, or perhaps simply not wanting to.

“Come on, big man. Think you can take a little more?”