The first time I kissed someone I felt this letdown of emotions. That's what everyone sang songs about? That's what the pinnacle moment of the romance novels was like? That was...it?
So I figured I didn't do it right.
I decided maybe I was bad at it.
I told myself it would get better.
I let myself get involved in goodbye kisses that just felt wet. I participated in hello kisses that were soft. I never tried to avoid a kiss that was offered to me by my boyfriend because that was something couples did. It was normal and expected and it would mean something was wrong with me if I didn't want it. (Secretly, I dreaded kisses. I braced myself for them. I endured them.)
I didn't enjoy kissing. And not speaking up when one kiss turned into uncountable kisses for "makeout sessions" didn't make me get used to it. I didn't say anything when I became uncomfortable with the tone of the kisses. I didn't speak up and say I had a problem.
Maybe I would have discovered my asexuality earlier if I hadn't been afraid to talk about my preferences.
Maybe I wouldn't still feel uncomfortable about the thought of dating again.
Maybe I wouldn't still get a weird feeling of discomfort at the idea of running into my ex because I felt uncomfortable with him when he pushed for things I wasn't comfortable giving but I gave in because I was scared to say I wasn't feeling into it.
I never once initiated a kiss with my boyfriend throughout the 11 months we dated but I also never once told him I didn't want to kiss and that's something I regret. That was on me. But I was young and scared of being messed up or broken or a hundred other adjectives.
All the romantic movies, books, and songs lied and made it sound like everyone loves kissing. But I don't. And that's ok. I'm not broken. But I may have to preach that fact to myself again and again every day until it really sinks in.
I wish I had known back then about asexuality. I wish it had been an option for me to hold up in front of myself in the mirror and consider. I wish I had had an alternative identity to "not good enough" or "broken." Because it's hard to erase the harsh thoughts I had about myself for so long before I learned about asexuality.