Am I a relationship nightmare?
They
tell me that men hate commitment but love sex.
What
do I want? I want your soul, but you can keep your pants on.
“You
know you’ll never get a date if you keep up with this whole
‘asexual’ thing.” Yeah, I know, that’s kinda the point.
It’s
strange, though, letting go of the idea that I’ll fall in love, get
married, buy a home, have 2.5 kids, raise them, and retire with the
man of my dreams. I’m not the first one who has done it, and I
won’t be the last, but somewhere it feels like letting go of a
piece of my soul every time I say, “no, I don’t really care if I
get married or not.”
I
don’t think I’m sad about losing this bit of me though. It seems
like a superfluous bit. Something that I never asked to be a part of
me, but somehow it found its way in there; an expectation that I
would eventually get married. Little girls in grandma’s attic,
playing dress-up with her old veils and hoop skirts: “aww, what a
beautiful bride,” they told me as I clattered down the stairs
wearing curtains and lace and shoes too large for a girl of 5. I
wanted to be beautiful too. Being beautiful was a good thing then.
I
walk past wedding shops and craft stores still and think, “If I
ever had a wedding, that would be at the reception.” I try on
dresses, but no one tells me “aww;” they just nod knowingly as if
a prince might sweep through the doors and carry me off then and
there. As if a dress could make me beautiful enough for him to forget
that carrying off girls is socially awkward these days.
I
stare at myself in the mirror sometimes and think, “damn, that girl
is gorgeous. Too bad I’m the only one who has the courage to say so
out loud.” Later at the club, though, they whistle at me and call
me hot and sexy. Congratulations on coming up with two syllables to
sum up my appearance. Somehow, hearing it out loud doesn’t make me
feel cherished. It makes me feel exposed and accosted. Too bad I
can’t be gorgeous without being sexually objectified.
It’s
not that I don’t want to be wanted. I know some people don’t find
themselves in need of relationships, but I don’t mind romance. I
think it’s stupid, but I still like it. But it’s weird to think
that people wouldn’t want me because I don’t want sex. I get it;
sex is a big deal, but I’m a lot better at conversation, massages,
eating, and cuddling than I am at sex. Can’t you appreciate what I
am?
“No
one will want you because you won’t have sex. They’ll dump you
eventually. You’re not good enough unless you’re willing to have
sex.”
No
one says it. But it hides in the depths of my brain waiting for my
lonely days and my depression to forget how absurd it is. Because it
could be true.
“You
could just stop. You could just give up on this asexual thing. Why
keep labeling yourself if it hurts this much? I just don’t want to
see you get hurt.”
It’s
not about the label. I could have no label, but I still wouldn’t
want sex. So I wonder. I think that is my biggest fear (here, exposed
in my blog for everyone to see. Classy). I’ve lost friends before
because I’ve told them I’m not interested in them romantically.
I’ve even lost friends because even though they knew I wasn’t
interested in sex, they couldn’t stay “just friends.” Power to
you, man, but just because I have a female body doesn’t mean I’m
just a potential sexual partner/girlfriend. I’ve lost friends
because they’re sexual and I’m not. Could I lose a partner for
the same reason?
No.
I’m not going to be like that. I’ll tell you right away. I’ll
make sure you know. I won’t even start something. I can’t deal
with being rejected before you even know me. I’m amazing. I just
don’t like sex. If you like sex more than you like me, then let’s
not date. I can deal with that. But I also don’t want to be alone.
So, now what?
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