On Being Ace

I am asexual. This does not mean that I procreate with myself. In mammals, asexuality just means a lack of interest in sex. This isn’t simply a human thing either; other animals, too, sometimes inexplicably refuse to mate. I have experienced a few ups and downs when it comes to my sexuality: the social pressure put on a person to have sex doesn’t affect me; I certainly don’t have to worry about getting STD’s or becoming pregnant; nor will I ever be labeled a whore or anything like that. But at the same time, there are a few downsides. Most people are, in fact, sexual, and as an asexual who is repulsed by sex, this poses a problem whenever I am interested in a guy. For me, personally, it is sometimes also frustrating not to have the same feelings as most people experience at this stage of their lives.

Members of AVEN (Asexual Visibility and Education Network: www . asexuality . org), an online community that supports both aces (asexuals) and those who know some, or simply want to learn more about what it means to be asexual, have split the asexual community into a few separate categories. First, an asexual can either be heterosexual, bisexual, pansexual, or homosexual. This is simply gender preference; just because one isn’t interested in sex doesn’t mean we don’t still have our preferences. The second category is split into romantic or “aromantic”—which is, romantic or not. The way I understand it is that romantic aces want relationships and intimacy (except for sex), whereas aromantics don’t. Then there is repulsed or indifferent—whether you’re repulsed by the thought or act of sex, or you can or do tolerate it for a significant other.

Personally I am a heterosexual, aromantic, repulsed ace. There isn’t a romantically affectionate bone in my body. I have had feelings for the opposite sex before, but I don’t feel the need to act on them in any way besides actually being around them. If anything else I have very motherly feelings toward everyone I know. The idea of being in a relationship not only threatens my independence, but it also hinges on intimacy with which I am not comfortable. Some people have told me they envy my asexuality, because to them it seems like it would make everything so much simpler. In some ways it does, but in many ways for me it just complicates things.

Being asexual, I have never felt burdened by the social pressure of having sex. Sure, people have annoyed me with their “you NEED a boyfriend” spiels, but nothing has ever come close to compelling me to have sex or any sort of pseudo-sexual activity. Since I’m not sexually active, I don’t have to worry about getting a sexually transmitted disease or becoming pregnant. If not for having a period, I wouldn’t have to be on birth control, either. And personally, I apparently give off an asexy vibe, which pretty much wards off any name-calling besides maybe “prudish,” and I really can’t see that as a negative thing.

On the other hand, being asexual has been a hindrance to me the few times I’ve actually been interested in being in a relationship. Part of my problem is that I am independent to a fault; I admit that, and it probably has less to do with my sexuality and more to do with my natural personality and how I was raised. The other half of this issue for me is that most people I meet are, of course, going to be sexual, and so any guy I find myself liking is bound to be a sexual person. Becoming involved with a sexual person, especially in my age group, can potentially be a messy situation, if it even got so far (although as an aromantic, it wouldn’t get anywhere for me anyway). The messy bit is that it appears that sex is an expectation in any relationship, and so who would be with someone they knew was never going to fulfill that desire? Why would I waste their time only to disappoint them, then they in turn hurt me emotionally for not meeting that expectation?

Another troubling thing about being asexual is turning people down. I mean, besides the fact that I wasn’t interested in the last guy who was crushing on me, he couldn’t take a hint; and how much of a cop-out does “sorry, I’m not attracted to anyone or anything” sound? Explaining to someone that you’re asexual and that a relationship would not work out between the two of you sounds like the biggest, most convenient lie you could possibly come up with, even if it’s true. The aforementioned last guy, I hinted at him about my disinterest in sex and relationships, but he didn’t get it. I had to be frank and possibly cruel, in retrospect, to get him to understand that I wasn’t interested. Something similar to that is the line, “You just haven’t met the right guy yet.” It just strikes me as incredibly rude—would you say that to a lesbian? Most probably wouldn’t, so why say it to me?

Besides those, sometimes I just have trouble accepting my sexuality. I never decided to think that sex was a disgusting habit, nor at any point did I tell myself that I would never kiss a guy; but the feelings I have toward these ideas are too strong for me to get past. I would love to be a sexual person, so that my desire to be special to someone beyond being their best friend could actually come to fruition. I feel trapped by my own feelings sometimes, and it is very frustrating. At the same time, this is how I know it’s not just me being stubborn or trying to be “different.” If I could change it, I would, but apparently I can’t, for as miserable as it makes me sometimes. Someday I will either come to accept my asexuality in all its forms (hetero/aromantic/repulsed), or overcome it (although that doesn’t seem very likely at all).

Only sometimes, though, am I really down in the dumps about it. Relationships seldom cross my mind, what with school and my hobbies and, well, my sleep schedule. I’m normally quite content with my few friends and my amazing family, and at the end of the day I rarely ever feel like something is “missing” from my life.