Okay kids, it’s been approximately 500 years since I’ve posted and I need to warm up before I write an article about Ghost Quartet for my COMM class, so here’s an update on The Journey:
For the moment, I’ve landed comfortably on the idea of being demiromantic, demisexual, and heterosexual.
After a LOT of time spent thinking about this, I don’t think I’m attracted to women on any level outside of aesthetics and general vibes. I want to say that I’m not attracted to men in general either but my brain says, “OKAY, buddy. Now HOLD UP there,” every time I consider stating this so I’m just going to accept the idea heterosexuality for now, mostly because I’m tired of thinking about it and it isn’t getting me anywhere.
Logically, there isn’t a way for me to EXPERIENCE my orientation because the conditions for my sexuality kicking into gear are so specific and take so long to achieve that getting to that point with anyone else at the same time as being in a very committed monogamous relationship with my boyfriend just isn’t going to happen. I do have a sort of a Feeling that I would be attracted to other men if the opportunity arose, but again, there’s now real way of knowing. Whatever my orientation actually is, I am functionally heterosexual and I am satisfied with reaching that conclusion with the information I currently have.
I am NOT, however, nailing down any KIND of romantic orientation because I DO NOT HAVE ONE. When I laid in bed late at night in the beforetimes of my current relationship, staring at my ceiling and overwhelmed by yearning, the nameless romantic partner I longed for was vaguely male-shaped. It’s also true that the only specific people I’ve thought about dating have all been men, but I feel fairly confident in thinking that socialization is the primary cause of this romantic leaning. I knew that romance with women wasn’t going to pan out for me in the culture I live in, so I brushed those considerations aside whenever they occurred to me.
(I was about to say that the only definition I can give to my romantic orientation is “friend” (hence the demiromanticism), but I think I might have just realized that I’m biromantic in the process of writing this. I haven’t seriously considered my romantic orientation in a while and I’ve done a lot of work deconstructing my internal homophobia in the meantime, so apparently some possibilities are open to me that were previously inaccessible. Gonna have to revisit this later.)
Let’s get to the real meat of things, though, shall we? What, now, do I do with this information?
I feel comfortable publicly identifying as ace-spec and I have made that known in some less anonymous spheres of the internet as of this year’s International Asexuality Day, but I feel nervous about getting more specific than that. Specifically, I feel a lot of internal conflict about the possibility of publicly identifying as demisexual.
I am a passionate experiencer, thinker, and writer. I want to be seen for who I am and I want my experience to be seen and considered by those who come into my life and engage with my writing. I want to be a champion of the cause and an accessible resource for the curious and uninformed. I want to represent those who don’t have a voice or are struggling to understand themselves. I want to discuss and commune with others like me in my real, physical life. I want to understand and be understood.
I don’t want to be seen as attention-seeking. I don’t want to invade spaces that I don’t belong in and I don’t want to seem like I’m trying to be part of the LGBTQIA+ community because I want to be one of the cool kids or I want to be special. I don’t know if I even need that sense of union and belonging with the LGBTQIA+ community as a whole at this point in my life.
Identifying as demisexual also seems like TMI for me. I feel somewhat uncomfortable talking about it in detail even here, knowing that a few of my friends follow this blog. I feel like other identifications of sexuality are mentioned commonly enough that people don’t think about the person identifying as such in a sexual context when their sexuality is disclosed. I know it’s strange to say that I worry that discussing my sexuality causes the people I’m talking to to think about my sexuality, but it’s something I genuinely feel awkward about and I don’t want to make people feel uncomfortable.
I love words and I love the specificity and clarity they grant our thinking and experience. More than that, I love discussing them and using them to understand the experiences of others, which in turn further informs my understanding of myself. I want to talk about this. I want to let others know that this is an experience that exists and is worth learning about. I want to learn more.
I am cisgender and heterosexual, but my experience of attraction, romance, and love is so much more complex and nuanced than this identification describes. It’s very possible that everyone’s experience of gender and sexuality is as complicated and bizarre as mine, but no one is discussing it. Maybe I should identify as demisexual, demiromantic, and potentially biromantic to encourage that introspection and discussion.
Attraction is rich and complicated and beautiful. Sexuality is rich and complicated and beautiful. Gender is rich and complicated and beautiful. The human experience in all its infinite variety is rich and complicated and beautiful. I want to share that beauty. I want people to consider their own beauty. I want to explore the beauty of mutual humanity with the people around me.
For that, I need words. For that, I need identification. For that, I need confidence to share my experience.
I hope I can find the guts when the time comes for me to step up to the plate and own my experience.
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