Without going too far into the details, I knew I was sexually different than most people growing up. Around the time when people started dating and having crushes and hoping for first kisses, I was pretty opposed to the entire thing. But, being in middle school and high school and viewing it as a must, I forced myself into dating. Because why not? I dated a few guys, but I never let it get too serious. In fact my mother, upon reflecting on my asexuality, said that she should have noticed something was different about the way I acting in my relationships. She recalls that I never let a relationship between the ages of 15 to 18 last more than two weeks.
Why two weeks? Because after this point is when I was expected to touch people, to cuddle people, to kiss people. (Oh, goddamn, how I hated the kissing the most.) At two weeks it was "prudish" to not want to make out a bit, so I ran away. If I left the relationship, they couldn't make me do anything. Fight or flight and all that jazz.
When I arrived at college I experimented. I would have these nights where I would go to a party and drink and say, "Okay, let's see if it's different now!" I'd drunkenly make out with people--guys, girls, whoever--in an attempt to be turned on by their actions. I would try so hard to enjoy it. I really did try! I picked people I thought were attractive, people with good personalities. Good friends with good faces and good personalities; my calculations told me this was a surefire way to like someone!
Needless to say it didn't work. I absolutely hated every encounter.
It took me until my 19th year of life to be told about asexuality. Until this point I had never heard the term used outside of a biology class room, and I didn't even think it was a thing. I'm a very sex-positive person, and accepted very early on that sexual attraction is a natural part of human life.
But, my scientific theory was failing me: if sexual attraction was a natural part of life, why didn't I feel it?! I accepted it was okay, I grew up with parents who were non-religious and open to all sexualities and experiences, and there was nothing physically keeping me from enjoying myself. So why couldn't I just want to have sex?! I went to doctors to have my hormones checked--everything was good (okay, my Vitamin D level was a tad low). I went to therapists--they said there was nothing wrong with me, that I just wasn't comfortable.
But I was comfortable. Very comfortable. I knew my body, and I accepted that sex was a-ok. I turned to science and medicine to fix me, but they couldn't. And I didn't know why until after five-years of grappling with my sexuality.
It took the student affairs counselor at my college to explain things to me. I approached her after having a very frustrating event in my dorm-room. My boyfriend at the time was there, with a raging hard-on, and I was horrified. I simply couldn't do it. I thought I could, that since I cared about him I could get over it... But I just couldn't do it. And I told her that. I spilled everything. About my years of being unable to date people because of my sexual repulsion, about how I wanted a relationship and I wanted to want to have sex and to be normal. About being confused because I love people, I just don't love touching them down under.
She, a fabulous self-proclaimed butch pansexual with an absolutely amazing partner, pulled me into her office and said, "Carly, it's okay. I just think you're asexual."
At first I was like, "That's not funny. This is no time for games."
But she assured me it was an actual sexuality. That people identify as asexual, or not experiencing sexual attraction.
I guess it's needless to say that I took what she said to heart because here I am. I'm here and happily accepting of my sexuality. After years of trying to be "normal," of trying to fit into what I viewed as okay, I am now able to say, "Science couldn't fix me because there is nothing to fix." Science didn't let me down; science gave me the answer. I took the tests, I saw the professionals, and everything came back normal. Science was telling me this is okay! But, feeling the need to fit into some mold of socially-formed normality, I pushed myself on people in an attempt to trick myself into being something I'm not.
Asexuality gave me the freedom to say, "Okay, I don't want to have sex. And that's okay. Now let's focus on something else." It has given me the opportunity to focus on what I want in life rather than what I don't. I'm not longer building my identity around the idea of being sexually defunct and in need of repair. I'm building my identity around being a hardworking woman who loves people. I'm allowed to seek out relationships without worrying about the dreaded two week mark. I know what I want, and I am able to find a partner who can supply me with what I want, and is willing to love me for what I give.
For me, asexuality is not a hindrance, it is freedom to be who I truly am.
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