Written by an anonymous student
“Wait, you haven’t had sex yet?” is a question posed to me in my first-year halls, by a guy I was interested in, and who didn’t know better. Asexuality is a term I first came across when I started university. A place where the culture is supposedly about hooking up, but where in actuality there are so many different types of relationships being formed. You just have to look for them.
At school I was never with anyone, and it raised questions amongst my friendship group: “Are you not interested?” I feel abnormal and don’t know how to say how I really feel. I am interested in forming a relationship with someone, but not primarily in a sexual way, and definitely not with anyone in our year group.
In first year, I became friends with a girl who is wonderful, and also the first person I met who is asexual. I am surprised I lacked knowledge about this type of sexuality before. Soon after meeting her, the question “Am I asexual?” is one I go over back and forth in my mind. Confused, I don’t know what to think. But over time, I conclude that yes, I am, I think. And that’s not to say I have to stay in that category forever, of course not. Why categorise myself in the first place?
Considering the very fact of being asexual brings many kinds of taboos with it. My parents initially met me with the words: “Of course you’re not asexual”. My father reaffirms this by saying: “I want to have grandchildren one day”. The words are ugly and ignorant, but it can’t be sugar-coated. What’s this to say that asexual people can’t have children? What’s this to say that asexual people can’t find love?
Conversations with friends from home take a similar turn: “But are you… happy?” My other sexually inactive friend and I roll our eyes when this gets asked. Can’t we like, talk about the political and economic state of the world right now… A flatmate advises me that if I “just dressed sexier” I might get more interest. Interest I don’t want? No thanks.
At work shifts men try to chat me up: I laugh but don’t know how to say, please, respectfully, no. I never want the attention and don’t know how to avoid it in a good way. At one shift a boy I barely interacted with beckons me over with his finger (revolting, I know) to ask if I have a boyfriend. I lie and tell him I do. He asks me to call him when we break up. So now I have to imagine my imaginary boyfriend and I breaking up…? I can’t help but laugh at his presumptuousness.
Asexuality in itself is something I don’t think is talked about enough in mainstream media. Look at Heartstopper. The creator herself, Alice Oseman, is an aromantic asexual (her novel Loveless broaches this). But in the most recent series the character of Isaac, who is asexual, has a neglected storyline. It’s annoying to viewers like me to see asexuality relegated to the fringes of a show that is predominantly supposed to explore all kinds of sexuality.
But, I’m happy with who I am, and I love the way I live my life. The last time I saw my friends I asked them to stop asking me if I’m sexually active. They listened. As they should. Open communication works wonders.
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