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About To Play My Ace
Happy LGBTQA+ Awareness Month. As an asexual, I suppose I'm technically covered by that, but I never really felt part of the community, despite having a bunch of queer friends in high school and college. I think part of the problem is that I came to the identity so late in life.
I always knew I was odd when it came to romance and attraction. "Hot" people didn't do much for me and stories where otherwise reasonable people just have to have sex seemed like the dumbest thing. All my friends were dating and having sex in high school. I dated a guy because my sister said I should and insisted on setting us up. We went to the movies once and talked a lot on the phone. I think we may have even held hands. He wanted more and we broke up. I didn't feel like I was missing anything except that people kept telling me I was. In college, my mom fretted I wouldn't find a husband if I wouldn't put myself out there. In my late 20s, I tried on-line dating because that's what your supposed to do, but I never clicked with anyone. I was in my 30s when a guy friend suggested that, since we were already hanging out and going out to dinner all the time, we should add kissing to the mix. I figured I might as well and it was a fucking nightmare.
Don't get me wrong. My ex was a good guy and we had fun doing the same stuff we'd always done. We hiked, we watched TV, we built a bookshelf together, and kept up our weekly dinner dates. It was just that every kiss was beyond uncomfortable and he kept pressuring me for sex. It soon became clear that he was way more into me than I was into him and I felt guilty, like I wasn't living up to my end of the girlfriend bargain. It was clear I either had to break up with him or give him what he wanted. I was stressed out and anxious and growing resentful. After a series of tear-filled conversations with my mom and several female friends where I received some really contradictory advice, I was no closer to a solution.
Tumblr's ace discourse saved me from making what would have probably been the worst mistake of my life. I had never even heard the term asexual before, but it fit like literally nothing ever had. It also gave me the ultimate it's-not-you-it's-me when I broke up with the ex in a way that allowed us to stay friends. It allowed me to stop trying to force myself to be something I'm not.
Actually, you know that stuff I said about not really feeling like part of the LGBTQA+ community? Maybe I am. Just a very specific segment of it full of people I've never actually met. Still, I can't help be grateful to them for introducing me to myself. I hope we can help you find yourself too.
I always knew I was odd when it came to romance and attraction. "Hot" people didn't do much for me and stories where otherwise reasonable people just have to have sex seemed like the dumbest thing. All my friends were dating and having sex in high school. I dated a guy because my sister said I should and insisted on setting us up. We went to the movies once and talked a lot on the phone. I think we may have even held hands. He wanted more and we broke up. I didn't feel like I was missing anything except that people kept telling me I was. In college, my mom fretted I wouldn't find a husband if I wouldn't put myself out there. In my late 20s, I tried on-line dating because that's what your supposed to do, but I never clicked with anyone. I was in my 30s when a guy friend suggested that, since we were already hanging out and going out to dinner all the time, we should add kissing to the mix. I figured I might as well and it was a fucking nightmare.
Don't get me wrong. My ex was a good guy and we had fun doing the same stuff we'd always done. We hiked, we watched TV, we built a bookshelf together, and kept up our weekly dinner dates. It was just that every kiss was beyond uncomfortable and he kept pressuring me for sex. It soon became clear that he was way more into me than I was into him and I felt guilty, like I wasn't living up to my end of the girlfriend bargain. It was clear I either had to break up with him or give him what he wanted. I was stressed out and anxious and growing resentful. After a series of tear-filled conversations with my mom and several female friends where I received some really contradictory advice, I was no closer to a solution.
Tumblr's ace discourse saved me from making what would have probably been the worst mistake of my life. I had never even heard the term asexual before, but it fit like literally nothing ever had. It also gave me the ultimate it's-not-you-it's-me when I broke up with the ex in a way that allowed us to stay friends. It allowed me to stop trying to force myself to be something I'm not.
Actually, you know that stuff I said about not really feeling like part of the LGBTQA+ community? Maybe I am. Just a very specific segment of it full of people I've never actually met. Still, I can't help be grateful to them for introducing me to myself. I hope we can help you find yourself too.
no subject
It's also kind of funny that you mention Tumblr as a locus of ace positivity (and that is mostly my experience with it as well), because it's also known as a hive of aphobes and exclusionism. I'm guessing the latter is a reaction to the former--that the growing visibility of aces led to a backlash.
no subject
There is so much pressure out there to have sex. Like, it's not just from guys who want to have sex with you. There's this idea that you can't really be an adult person until you've had sex and that you're not really serious about someone unless you've had sex with them. I am so glad I never had sex with him. About a year after we broke up, he said something to the effect it was good that we hadn't had sex before we broke up because he wouldn't have been able to let me go if we had. I don't think he realized how ominous that was.