An Anecdote of Asexuality, Autism, and Other Oddities.
i originally posted this absolute essay of a comment underneath Carseatheadrest’s song “It’s Only Sex for, obvious reasons, however - I figured possibly it would be helpful to post it here to reach more folks who may resonate. (The song is fire btw, y’all should check CSH out!!) Apologies for any grammar mishaps - I wrote this after waking up from a five-hour long nap prior to taking my meds (whoops), and my autism can make it difficult when writing long-form pieces like this.
This is merely a slightly unhinged vent-post that seemed to get out of hand as I continued to write it; mainly focusing upon my own struggles with intimacy and how society views it as a whole - my relationship with being asexual, and how my autism leads me to perceive the act of sex in a slightly altered light compared to most.
General content warnings for: surface-level mentions of sexual content (nothing too explicit, I promise.), and brief mentions of past trauma.
That being said - I introduce you all to a glimpse inside my thoughts - and hopefully - despite having few followers, lol - some of you can relate, understand, or hell, possibly even learn something new about yourselves!
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I’m 17 and although I’ve never been intimate nor do I have a partner - I’ve always felt immensely disconnected from most people’s allure towards intimacy since I find it weirdly “feral” in a way? Like, perceiving how aggressive people act within sexual scenarios with one another seems to put me off. As if they’re ’drunk off lust’ or something, being fully controlled by desire I guess? But to be fair, the only blatant exposure I’ve had to intimacy is through written text, along with hearing others’ testimonies on the manner. But, whenever I hear people going on about how they find it arousing when someone uses dirty talk I just feel weirdly— put off? I don’t know. Plus, I might be the only one who feels this way, but I absolutely despise the feeling of being in the act - more so the physical aspects of it. Sure, the closest I’ve had to actually being intimate is with by my own hand - but my point is, the sensations that are being absolutely overblown throughout the rest of your body; heavy breathing, sweating, a dazed mind, trembling limbs, etc - feel too overwhelming to me. I think I could be a result of me being autistic, and likely having heightened sensory impulses makes it feel so strange. But another thing I’ve noticed for me, is that the sensations feel eerily similar to when I’m upon the brink of a panic attack strangely enough. Not to mention how utterly tainted with filth I feel after the fact. Sure, I’ve tried to read articles upon articles on why sex and self pleasure is a natural occurrence - the health benefits and all - how it’s abnormal to feel ashamed or disconnected from the act, how I purely need to suck it up because if I dare express any destain from engaging in it, I’m considered a fault in the system. And yet, the internalized feelings of disconnect from my own body still linger, regardless how often I try to convince myself it’s normal.
It’s gotten to the point where I’ve sorta realized - perhaps it’s just not for me. Perhaps, I feel better when I’m not forcing myself to be someone I’m not? Or perhaps, what if all this time I’m merely lying to myself - what if my apathy and disgust regarding it was a result of unresolved childhood trauma? Perhaps made even more so of how I’ve never even held hands romantically with another human being. What if I’m wrong? Wrong about not understanding what all the hype is about — an unmoved fault in a sea of flirty playboy bunnies. I’m still trying to properly unpack a lot of what may have caused me to feel so strange about it, likely a large mess of factors; past trauma, growing under the watchful eye of a Christian mother, the fact I’m a pan trans guy- but I think one large part of it may be due to my autism. I’ve noticed, with a lot of basic tasks life throws at me, I always had a tendency to overanalyze and dissect a lot of things, sex included. I tend to view it in a very literal and logical light - sure, I can fully understand why people enjoy it, how they enjoy the emotional bond it creates, how they feel sparks from the bounds of pleasure that surge throughout their bodies - but other than that, I never can comprehend why people seem to place it on such a high pedestal? I could never quite comprehend why people put intimacy on the same level as eating, breathing, or even sleeping. I could never comprehend why people seemed to make such fusses over it. How my own mom couldn’t comprehend I don’t care much for the act, how people can’t physically accept the fact someone could live without it, as if the sensation itself is the elixir of life.
I feel whenever there’s conversations regarding the topic, autistic people such as myself tend to be left out of the conversations a whole lot. I suppose it’s unfortunately due to a whole slew of factors, such as infantilization; people viewing us as innocent children who’d never engage in something as adultery and taboo as sex because in their minds, we’re practically nothing more than overgrown children. However, I recall reading about how studies have shown that people assigned female at birth on average tend to have more nerve endings displayed around their reproductive organs - therefore, often feeling sexual sensations to a more heightened degree compared to our amab counterparts. However, I think it could also be linked to the discussion of being autistic and our feelings regarding intimacy. Since we tend to already have an intense heightened display of sensory inputs - primarily touch - I suppose it makes sense why I, and a lot of other afab autistic individuals feel like we’re on the brink of having a sensory overload when feeling any sexual stimulation. What would be considered as pleasurable to someone who isn’t autistic, could be interpreted as something almost painful to someone who is.
Whenever I try to learn on how to be more comfortable with the idea of intimacy, often the advice is so blatantly intended for non-autistic folk, along with taking on a very cisgendered-heteronormative view upon the matter as well. I’ve always felt extremely alienated when it came to talks about it and whatnot - mainly due to my autism, the fact I’m a trans pansexual dude, and past trauma relating to intimacy. Yet …in an odd way, whenever I browse through comment sections of videos on talks about intimacy and how to be an intimate partner, it’s like I’m seeing a glimpse in an alternate reality - a reality where everyone just seems to “get it”. A reality where not a single person ever had to cope with a horde of internalized mental struggles regarding such a topic, they openly state how much they enjoy being intimate with their partners, going into immense detail upon what makes them “tick” with tens of comments beneath them sharing that same anecdote. Cracking jokes and sharing their stories like it’s a normal Tuesday. And yet, part of me can’t help but feel like I’m an anomaly in an odd sense. Why regardless of how many sex-positive articles and videos I burn into my mind, I’ll constantly feel like I’m a flaw upon the system. How there’s always an eerily familiar contortion lodged deep within a pit in my stomach whenever the mere thought is brought up. How the nauseating pit only continues to expand itself - feeding off my utter discomfort, my inability to “get it”, like a spreading sickness that lacks no means of ending. But the pit never leaves, it just sits there within me. It only expands and contracts itself, constantly shifting its size and intensity to remind me of my abnormality. I can feel it deep within my body - I can feel its cruel weight make itself known whenever the topic of intimacy is brought up, whenever I feel that desire burn throughout my skin.
I suppose it’s why I felt like there was something wrong with me when I despised the sensations intimacy brought. Whenever I’d bring it up, I was told I was just a goddamn immature 17 year old who needed to ‘grow up’ and wait until I found a partner, then I’d finally “get it”. Then I’d finally understand what all the hype was about, then I’d finally feel whole. After all, being a virgin your whole life is something to be ashamed of, isn’t it? And yet, the closest thing I’ve had to experiencing any sexual stimulation is by my own hand - but even while I’m in the act, I can’t help but feel the overwhelming sensation of my heavy breathing, my heart throbbing at an unsteady rhythm, my limbs trembling, the almost burning sensation that only increases between my thighs until it boils over. And after? I feel disoriented. Like my mind is attempting to sew itself back together through trembling limbs and shaken breaths. And I want to cry. To sob, to clutch my shaken limbs around myself in a desperate means of granting myself comfort - I feel like I’m about to explode, with no other means to feel whole once again.
And despite it all, I often find myself wondering; “Why did nobody warn me about this?” Why didn’t they warn me of the intense barrage of sensations being thrown at my body in the most uneven hellish masses imaginable? Why didn’t they mention how my body would feel like it’s dying? After all, isn’t it guilty pleasure? A pleasure unmatched by anything granted by nature itself? A pleasure delectable as the sweetest honey, the closest thing to heaven humanity has acquired without the act of death. Shouldn’t it feel immaculate? Shouldn’t I feel satisfied? And yet, I lie between my disheveled bed sheets, clutching onto a pillow as heavy tears stain its fabric. And I can’t help but internally beat myself up over my emotions - why I feel so dejected and mentally shaken over a sensation that’s considered one of nature’s greatest gifts. How no matter how many times I mentally prepare myself to ‘fix’ my ongoing barrage of mental turmoil through watching videos of a person who clearly hasn’t felt the anguish I’m in explain in detail how to ‘enjoy’ the act. Assuming it comes naturally to anyone who watches, assuming that not a single person on the opposite side of the screen has ever felt such alienation from the rest of the human race over something that everyone just seems to magically have imbedded within their minds from birth. Assuming nobody is as utterly flawed as I am.
I suppose my detachment in regards to intimacy - even if it’s limited to merely touching myself once in a goddamn blue moon - has convinced me that I, in all my traumatized asexual autistic glory, would make one hell of a horrible partner. Who wants a partner who flinches at the slightest of touch, a partner who feels like they’re on the brink of a panic attack when the sensations get too intense for them to bear, who can’t stop hyperventilating and sobbing through thick and heavy tears as they try to soothe me like a distraught child, how dare I try and have my partner be some therapist for my issues…After all, that’s what a horrible partner does…right? A horrible partner doesn’t care for their spouse’s sexual needs - haven’t I heard of all those couples who break up because they couldn’t be satisfied in bed? How dare I try and insinuate that my future partner should settle for less, that they should live in an unfulfilling relationship unable to act upon a natural desire because I’m too utterly messed up to have it drilled into my thick skull that it’s normal. How dare I be so selfish.
It’s all I hear when I tell people I’m asexual, when I try and explain my autism physically does not allow me to think nor feel any different, how my entire being practically makes me feel differently around the entire discussion regarding intimacy. And yet, they express their worries and condolences. Not directed towards me, but to whatever future partner may interweave their fingers with mine someday. They mourn more intensely for that nonexistent entity over the person who’s standing in front of them in the flesh. They mourn for the fact that my future partner will have to somehow settle for less in their words, they try and convince me that merely granting my affection and love through hand-written notes and carefully crafted gifts and trinkets will never compare to the sheer raw intimacy sex can bring. How dare I insinuate that someone could be happy and fulfilled without such a need for something so natural, how dare I express one can feel fulfilled through other means that do not entail intimacy. How dare my sheer existence challenge their narrow mindset. How dare someone who chooses to become my spouse be understanding and grant me their compassionate empathy for simply being, how dare they feel fulfilled and satisfied by being granted affectionate notes and gifts over being touched by their beloved, how dare they “settle for less” and be content with simply experiencing the light of their partner through a clothed body. How dare they challenge the status quo for merely existing. It’s as if, people physically cannot fathom that someone can feel equally happy and fulfilled without the need for it. However, I suppose I don’t blame them - it’s everywhere you look. The expectancy to engage in it is practically being advertised and gossiped about in every corner of the world around them. As if feeling any distain or discomfort with the idea is an immediate challenge against something bigger. Like an act of rebellion, almost. But, am I being rebellious? How is me being some traumatized asexual autistic person on par with being some rebellious teenager? I’m not trying to challenge anything nor anyone, but it seems as if my sheer existence is already capable of doing that.
But hey, I guess you could say - it’s only sex :3 (I’m so sorry)
