Thoughts and musings of an asexual violin lover who has a passion for Victoriana, Britain, and all loverly awesome things, including Sherlock Holmes and Benedict Cumberbatch.
My 30 Day Asexual Challenge
My massive Sherlock fanfic, A Scandal in Britain
First time doing one of these, wheeeeee! I’ll do three questions at a time…
1. What is your romantic/sexual orientation?
2. Are you out? To whom?
My mom and my best friend and a couple of other people who I really care about. And I regularly refer to myself as asexual online. But I don’t run down the street with a banner screaming HEY EVERYONE I’M TOTALLY AAAAAAACE!!
3. How old were you when you realized you were asexual? What made you realize it?
This is an interesting question. I really think I was born with it. When I was a little girl I was utterly confused why men would find boobs attractive. It made no sense to me whatsoever. (Still doesn’t.) And I was doubly confused why women would find men’s junk attractive. And once when I got impatient with how long it was taking my mother to put her makeup on, I said, exasperated, that I’d never ever wear makeup. We went back and forth about that for a while; she was sure that I would, I was positive I wouldn’t. Turns out my gut instinct was right. I didn’t wear makeup until I was 20, and then only because I’m small and have no boobs and look young for my age and people were saying things to me like I looked like a fairy princess, and as you can imagine, THAT got old quickly. But I only wear lipstick and blush, and it only takes two minutes to put on. If I want to look a couple of years older I’ll do some eyeshadow but that’s it.
Anyway, in sixth grade (worst. year. ever.) I kept waiting to be attracted to boys. Yeah. That never happened. Made my social life a living hell until my best friend transferred to my school and I had someone else to talk about something besides boys to. Then in high school I waited to be attracted to girls. Surprise! That didn’t happen, either. I cried myself to sleep a lot of nights, thinking I was immature, slow, defective, screwed-up. Something. There was a lot of self-loathing. My best friend and I would joke that I was still in the latent phase. But when you get to be 21 without having a single sexual thought or sex dream or anything like that… You know that’s not what society says is normal, and it’s unnerving. When I was in my late teens I started joking about myself that I was asexual. Then I googled it and ohmyfuck there was such a thing as asexuality. And it wasn’t a joke. It was legitimate, and it was exactly what I felt. It kinda blew my mind. At first I was reluctant to identify as straight asexual, because that seemed like it closed doors, because I knew I wouldn’t mind dating a person…I just don’t want any of the kissing or sex! So I said I was demisexual for a while. But then I learned about romantic orientation. Ding ding ding! A bell went off. That was me. Biromantic ace, reporting for duty.
And then when BBC Sherlock came out… :D :D :D
I do get crushes. Or crush-like things. Sort of. I have this thing where I get melting admirations for various people I’ve met, where I think about them a great deal and want to know everything that’s going on with them and fantasize about being a bigger part of their life than I am. I’m in the midst of a bad attack of that at the moment. Just a mention of this specific person makes me smile, and I’m so grateful for this person’s presence in my life, and feel so damn lucky that our paths crossed. It’s a little tiny taste of being in love, maybe. But thankfully I know for a fact s/he (I’m going to be coy about his/her gender) would never have me as a romantic partner, and yay yay hurrah hurrah that’s utterly fantastic. That’s perfect. We can be friends without any of the awkward societal expectations. Everything’s so clear-cut - s/he isn’t interested in my gender in that way, and I’m not interested in any gender in that way - and that’s such a relief, you wouldn’t believe it. Hopefully as we get to know each other better we can have some good conversations and make wicked jokes and I can continue to admire him/her for the awesome person s/he is.
I hate being a girl. I hate my reproductive system. I hate my hormones. I hate the ups and the downs that come like clockwork. I hate bleeding. I feel like my body betrayed my brain, and it’s a bitter feeling. On the other hand, I’d feel betrayed if I was a boy, too. So go figure. I wish it was possible to be gender-less…although I’m not quite sure how that would work, as that would introduce a whole new set of problems and prejudices. I have a boyish figure, though, and I’m thankful for that. Once I get the hormones under control, I’m probably the closest I’m ever going to get to being gender-less.
I’m so ready to learn how to be good with all this. (As John says in Sherlock, “It’s all fine.” John, I kinda love you.) And I think I’m going to be fine, in the end. It might take a while, but I’m sure as heck further along in the process than I was even a few months ago, and that’s heartening.