I'm making the weirdest comeback to this blog today, solely because I have no other blog I actually can post in the tags on but am NOT followed by people who know my partner.
Hi! How's it going? I've been absent from here for years, and by years I mean it's been at least 5. Lots have happened! But I'm not here to talk about that. I'm here because I am haunted by some ace discourse I had here when I was like... 22.
Back then, I wrote something about how asexuals can still participate in sex for reasons that are unrelated to sexual attraction, such as baby-making or a desire to bond with a partner even if they themselves have no desire or drive for sex. It got a mixed response, for a controversial subject. Mostly positive - but some VERY angry individuals also told me that either all sex that an asexual goes through is rape, or they're a fake asexual.
So - fun fact - I've been on a journey here. For a good few years, I actually agreed with the latter points; I am asexual, and stopped being able to imagine situations in which I'd be comfortable having sex. I couldn't imagine it anymore and came to the logical conclusion that I'd been confused before and the rhetoric about inherent asexual nonconsent might actually be true.
The very concept of sex has been a very frightening, horrible burden on me since it became something that was within the realm of possibilities for me. I did not want any and I was despairing because that made me feel unlovable, like I'd be trapping a potential partner in an unsatisfying situation.
Then I grew up a bit more again, and began to realise it was less the concept of sex overall that was the problem - the problem is specifically that I don't want any. Period. However, the concept of giving my partner pleasure has always been an open question for me. On one hand, I am curious. On the other, the taste and consistency and smell of human fluids and crotch... frankly makes me want to puke. But what if said crotch was well-washed, with mild odor? Not something you've kept in your pants since last Saturday. What then?
I became familiar with the concept of stone butches. I felt... awed. That's a thing you can do with a partner? Give, and not want to be touched, and have both parties be okay with that? What if getting off is not the point of it, but being close and having fun instead? And I don't have to do anything I don't want to? A wild concept.
Another couple years - I met a person who was unbothered by my difficult relationship to sex. A person who was open to exploring and experimenting but had no huge ambitions for sex as a part of our relationship, and didn't care either way if it was going to be or not.
So, at the ripe old age of 31, after getting vaccinated for HPV for my own sake and going through a pointless set of STD tests to meet my partner in the middle with trust and safety, I felt comfortable enough to do science in the field.
And you know what I found out?
First - I am so incredibly, boringly, utterly asexual. Arousal? I do not know her. In fact, I barely know her name. This is now an undeniable, inescapable fact of me that I have proved in every single way a person can. And it's fine. Do I still kind of wish I wasn't? Sure. I do feel like I'm missing something, but on the other hand, I have a thousand other things I derive my basic animal pleasures from (like head rubs, or ice cream.)
Second - sex as a giving, not receiving, party is the exact same feeling as giving someone I love (in this case, a life partner) a massage. I don't get shit from giving a massage to them, and my arms will hurt after, but it's fun and it's intimate and it's nice because my partner likes it and it makes them feel good. Sex is the same. It was not groundbreaking, it was not degrading, it was not painful (other than for my muscles, my poor fucking muscles dear GOD), and it was fun and it brought us closer. It was fun enough to keep at it for four hours one day, but I'd again rather eat rocks than do that every day. The same way I'm not just available to rub your shoulders all day long, I have other things I want to be doing, but as an occasional thing - yeah, sure. Why not.
Third, it is a REALITY that I can exchange sex for massages. I can get a massage. I can leverage this whole getting my partner off into receiving nice physical pleasures for myself that I like and actively desire. And it's particularly nice after I've destroyed both of my wrists on the altar of their enjoyment.
Yes, sex repulsed asexuals are real and there are no circumstances under which one should be forced or pressured into any sexual act, or made to debate or defend their desires, wants, wishes, and lacks thereof. This is all sexual coercion, and at worst, it is assault. If you push ANYBODY who is not interested, you are a disgrace and I hope you eat yourself in your sleep.
However, sex neutral and positive asexuals also, apparently, do exist. I was right about at least one whole thing when I was 20. Look at that.
As a final word on this update nobody expected - I'm sex neutral. Sometimes the whole subject makes me feel like throwing up, most of the time I'm whatever about it, sometimes I'm curious about it the same way you're curious about trying a new dish or touching a fabric you don't know beforehand what it'll feel like. Unfortunately my own body is permanently disinterested and I'd throw up out of discomfort and spite if anybody tried to push me into receiving "pleasure", however, as long as my partner accepts this about me, I'm free to enjoy the science of it all, and the togetherness of spending time with my partner in a manner that is... deliciously heavy on trust and good intentions. It's nice. Having my boundaries respected is like. Extra nice.
That's it. Hopefully this puts my mind at ease about the angry reblogs from a decade ago. Probably not. You will haunt me to my grave, strangers on Tumblr.
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