I’ve always tried to be honest with my friends and family. I don’t mince words and I won’t tell you a lie to make you feel better. It’s usually why my friends come to me for advice. I give words of wisdom while telling you what an idiot you are, but I’ll do it nicely. It’s all part of my charm.
Lying to your loved ones is awful. The guilt eats your insides and rots inside you. It makes you paranoid and shifty. And one lie leads to others. To cover up that one lie you had to use others. It never ends. If you are caught in a lie, consequences vary. Get grounded, parents lose trust, friend doesn’t speak to you for a few weeks, lose your friend entirely, your significant other leaves you, get fired from work, etc.
The feelings that rise when you lie to yourself are far worse. Physical pain. Emotional outbursts. Your brain goes round and round 24/7. Arguing with yourself. Trying to convince yourself of whatever lie you need to believe for whatever reason. A constant bug buzzing in your ear that you can’t swat away.
After years of lying, I think it’s time to come clean. Don’t you?
I’ve kept my true thoughts about sex to myself. I didn’t want to be different or weird. I was already the chunky tomboy who would rather read a book than be with friends. I wasn’t prom queen or head cheerleader. I was always in the background with my books. I wasn’t boy crazy like the other girls. I didn’t really date. I had no real interest in it anyway.
Eventually I did date and each one was both amazing and terrible. Kissing was always weird. I had braces in high school when I had my first boyfriend and he had a lizard tongue. I still cringe thinking about it. I was “dating” this one guy the summer before I went to college. He wouldn’t call me his girlfriend until he “test drove the car”. I wasn’t ready to have sex and we just ended up dry humping most times. I thought it was nasty all the same.
A couple years ago I dated this guy and it was incredible. I fell so hard for him and the sex was mechanically good. Like on a purely animalistic type level it was spectacular. But deep inside? It killed me to be touched that way. There were times where I forced myself to be intimate with my boyfriend and prayed the whole time for him to be done so I could sleep and be left alone. At times I’d be in the bathroom dry heaving after having sex. I felt disgusting and wrong. I wanted to dip myself in scalding water and scrub ’til my skin was raw. I did date and each one was both amazing and terrible. Kissing was always weird. I had braces in high school when I had my first boyfriend and he had a lizard tongue. I still cringe thinking about it. I was “dating” this one guy the summer before I went to college. He wouldn’t call me his girlfriend until he “test drove the car”. I wasn’t ready to have sex and we just ended up dry humping most times. I thought it was nasty all the same.
I wholeheartedly believe that much of my anxiety and depression, especially in my last years of college and just after I graduated, were from trying to convince myself to be some hyper sexual being. Dating always gave me anxiety. Days after having sex I was depressed and hated myself. After one particular time I felt like dying.
I think sex is gross. It makes me want to vomit at times and other times I wish to hide under the bed. I don’t want to go to all that effort just to sate some biological urge. I’d rather cuddle with a pillow and eat a whole pizza while watching Netflix than go on a date with someone. That is the level I’m at.
Hi, I’m Jessica and I am gray-asexual.
No, I did not make up that term. It is a legitimate sexual orientation within the asexual spectrum. Sexual orientation is this incredible spectrum full of various preferences and identities. There are lots of gray areas too. And I fall into one of them.
People who identify as gray-asexual are on the border “between feeling sexual attraction to others and returning to their asexual tendencies. They feel sexual attraction, but not as often as sexual people. They don’t feel like acting on their sexual attraction. They are confused about their feelings of sexual attraction. They don’t feel that sexuality is a meaningful concept.” (Love Panky)
I appreciate someone’s general attractiveness, but I don’t want to jump into bed with them. I felt some sexual attraction for someone recently, but I never acted on those feelings because the though of doing it made me sick. It’s all just a big “meh”. I’ve engaged in sexual acts to appease my partner or to make them stop nagging me about sex.
Sex feels good on a basic level, I’ll admit, but I would rather spend time hanging out with friends and family, reading books, watching movies, snuggling in my nest of blankets and pillows, writing super long blog posts. I would love to find another asexual or gray-asexual person and have a relationship where I am not pressured to have sex or do anything remotely sexual.
Since unraveling all these lies and opening these thought boxes I have had less anxiety and felt better. I’m not overtly depressed and I haven’t had one self-hating thought. I haven’t felt like dying in months. I broke down the first time I said out loud that I was asexual.
I can breathe easier now.