I’m pretty sure I’m not into girls because, with my largely female social circle, I’d have figured it out by now, right?
And, well, I don’t have romantic fantasies about girls when I do daydream. But if I’m twenty-five and a guy’s never inspired stomach butterflies, then…what?
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At 18, I went to college identifying as a lesbian (I do not identify this way now) and like many queer kids in college, I quickly made a group of queer friends (affectionately referred to by others as “The Lesbian Mafia”).
It is the feeling that, now that you have come out, you must work to maintain your queerness, that your queerness must be readable and visible, and if it was not, you were doing a disservice to your community.
But, as I recount my sexual exploits throughout college, I begin to realize that there was so much I did not enjoy, so much I did to prove myself, so much I let happen because I thought I was the one with the problem.
It ceased to be at all about my own enjoyment and became a constant game of trying to reaffirm the fact that I wasn’t simply pretending to be queer, that I had the sex toys and the condom wrappers to prove it.
But in a world that is saturated in sex, not experiencing a sex desire or sexual attraction can leave you feeling like you are broken, like there is something in you that needs to be fixed or changed in order for you to engage in relationships in a “normal” “healthy” way.
This is how I felt when I refused to let my first boyfriend go further than kissing me – like a failure as a partner, like I was wasting my youth, and like I was letting the dream of casually fucking in my boyfriend’s car after prom slip away as I stared, terrified, at the condom in his wallet.
That I was obligated to sexually please my boyfriend (because that’s what you do when you’re young and read as a girl), that prom night was supposed to be the night I finally “lost my virginity” to my fumbling partner, and that if I didn’t, I was a “waste of a nice face and good body.”Many people, when they come out as asexual are told that they are now “useless” simply because they are no longer sexually available (this is also something that gets told to many lesbian folks when they divulge that they are not, in fact, available for male sexual gratification).
But here’s the thing: When people say this, whether they realize it or not, they are essentially telling us that once we take away that ability of others to take sexual pleasure in our bodies, that there is nothing left worth loving or admiring.
But should I be finding out by wading into the dating game? And if YOU aren’t bothered by your lack of desire for anyone — or you weren’t bothered by it until your friends pointed it out and made you feel like a freak because of it — than no one else should be either. Or, it could mean you simply haven’t met anyone who turns you on. If you think your feelings could be repressed because of your traditional upbringing, you could always try talking to a therapist. I mean, that’s what dating IS, no matter what your orientation. And agreeing to get coffee with someone or see a movie or go for a walk in the park doesn’t mean you owe that person anything. ” just as he or she is, and the best way to find out if there is a match is to actually, you know, spend time with that person. That connection may not happen on a first date or a second date or a third. And I can’t tell you with any certainty that the chase for that feeling would be worth the effort for you if the effort feels too much like work (but I can tell you with certainty that, for many people, the chase for the connection most certainly IS worth the effort when they finally find it).