Girls & Boys & Lips & Stuff

Recently, I had a conversation with someone on a dating site I am reluctantly registered with. This conversation was one I have had with others before but due to the the simple minded nature of the majority of society, it was a breath of fresh air to be able to reprise it.

Most people aren’t sure what to think about us asexual folk. They are confused and instead of investigating the web or inquiring within they just ignore our… predicament.

Thankfully this guy didn’t.

Many days after now I have decided to use it as an outline for a post. Our conversation provided words/statements I think serve as a well developed explanation of ME.

Only me because… LIKE EVERYONE ELSE… asexuals are not all alike.

Here is a bit of me – Another page in my Ace-ness…

First know that I am outgoing. Consider me even a prime example of an extrovert. Any notions of me just being too shy or withdrawn for sex or romance should be discarded now. Thank you.

Men have always interested me since I was very young. Too young maybe. 

However, as I began to age, I started to pay attention to myself more. 

Middle school pressed play on the mixtape that would become my sexually confused life.

Talk was all about sex. Possibly vague but it was still the lunch room topic that controlled my group of male friends. I thought I must be gay because I don’t feel the same way these guys do. Eventually it made me so uncomfortable that I switched lunch tables and ultimately friends altogether.

If you were guessing, I bet you are not surprised to hear it was a group of girls. Our middle school was like that, at least for the first year or so. Guys were friends with guys. Girls were friends with girls. Guys who were friends with all girls were fags. Girls who were friends with all guys were sluts.

During these times I was a little introverted. A little dark. Always anxious.

Fast forward the tape to track 2. High school.

Confusion really began to spread like wildfire. Long story short, I liked a girl. Really liked her. Mix CD’S, radio song requests… the whole enchilada.

Inside I was a self-proclaimed homosexual. Never to see the light of my small, no traffic lights, town. Yet, here I was, genuinely invested in (shocker) a girl out of my league.

I had a moment of clarity toward the end of my junior year and left behind my border-line emo ways. I treated everyone with kindness and loud humor. In the end I was even prom king.

No dating, no romance, nothing else was even remotely related to sex. I felt no pressure and even less interest.

College cleared nothing up. When you have no sexual attraction (even without realizing it) it becomes very easy to fly under the radar. Sometimes, but rarely, a person would show interest in me but I never returned the favor. 

Then I became a true adult… full time job… apartment of my own… freedom. This also coincided with some weight loss that created a few dating opportunities.

Met a girl at a bar, she liked me – I thought she was pretty and sweet. To this day I hold the same opinion of her. Our few dates were fun and we talked with little to no lulls but something just wasn’t there. A kiss good night would end up on her cheek instead of her lips.

That was when I proclaimed (maybe even outloud)


And then I put on my rainbow fanny pack and started a new mission…

It was kind of exciting at first. Even though this wasn’t something I was sharing with anyone, I got to discover a newer – truer me.

The excitement even overpowered my low self-esteem and I took to the dating sites and apps to find my own true love.

Let’s be honest. The messages were not pouring in but eventually I began to befriend someone I had a lot in common with and who was very kind.

Not too far into the getting-to-know- each-other phase I began to realize and vocalize my social awkwardness and inexperience as well as not liking to be touched.

These were brand new to me. I’m In relationships and dating, I knew what to do and I wasn’t necessarily afraid to do it. I just didn’t want to and I had a kind guy who was patient and inquisitive. 

He would hold my hand because he truly wanted to but he would talk to me about it as he did it. Was that okay? What did I feel? Was it bothering me? 

I remember feeling… apprehensive? 

And as one of our encounters drew to a close he wanted to kiss me. I pouted and whined with some chuckles because I didn’t think I was a good kisser. I had only kissed a few people in my life and nothing behind a quick lip locking.

He tried to kiss me though and assured me it would be fine and so I did but I hated it. I also pouted and whined through the kiss which didn’t help any.

A second attempt was performed and i relaxed somewhat and just went with it. If it seems I am acting like this scarred me please note that is not my intent. However, not long after I was idling down city streets and the tears were dropping from my face. It felt like I did something wrong and I was a horrible person and… I just wanted to kill myself. No exaggeration.

That entire day became cloudy for me.

We continued our beginnings of what could possibly be a relationship and one night I was inebriated and he was inebriated and we decided to be inebriated together. 

I was at a friend’s not far from his place and took a stroll that ended in us sitting side by side on a concrete stoop. Initially I noticed how much more inebriated he was than I… and it was sobering. Conversation was not easy for him so it quickly turned to making out. Once again I just decided to let go of any doubts and explore this.

I never thought I would find myself sitting and making out with a Frat guy at an apartment that he shares with all his Frat “bros”. But here I was.

Don’t let your imagination fool you. This was no steamy, porno opening. We were both on the hefty side.

Anywho. After a few minutes of tonsil hockey I was teaching that level I had suffered before. I started to feel like I was taking advantage of myself. As I just tried to ‘Go with it’ I was forcing myself AGAIN to do things my brain was saying I didn’t want to do.

Our story ends with him trying to take me to his bedroom in which I declined and had to literally make him let go of me and stop pulling me down to the basement. An embarrassing drunk incident followed where he pursued me practically back to my friend’s house trying to get me to come home with him.

We didn’t speak for a while after that and when we did… he had no recollection of what had occurred. 

This took me back to the drawing board.

The same struggle was taking place no matter which genitalia was on the person.

In passing, I had seen something online about asexual online. I never thought twice about it due to being able to masturbate and enjoying it.

But I felt like I was a kind of lost that only existed in coming of age indie films and… I had to know what was wrong with me.

Google was my friend and taught me so much about asexuality and finally it made sense. All those times, even under the influence of alcohol, I never flirted or yearned for someone’s touch… they finally made sense. 

People had tried to tell me I was gay, straight or bisexual my whole life but the real answer never revealed itself to me until then. I was asexual. All the blank- sexual labels get confusing but I found my niche. My biromantic – asexual niche.

Someone to share my life with IS something I want. I even read about asexuals who are sexually active with their partners. And who knows? Maybe with the right person and through patience and a strong emotional connection I can be one of those people. Heh… sounds like an odd fairytale to me.

Now asexuals come with their own issues which means this was just my beginning but that’s what this whole blog is about. If you stuck through all of that… thanks for reading my story. This is… well… me.


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