Recently, I had the realization that sometimes my asexuality makes me sad. 

Up until this point in time I had never really thought that. Obviously, it brings me a lot of joy, as it is something I talk about quite a lot and even created a whole blog to discuss. I talked about it a little when I made a few breakup posts, and wrote about how I feared there might not be someone out there for me because I’m ace. I still know that’s not true. But that doesn’t mean there aren’t those thoughts in the back of my mind. It’s hard to know that my asexuality, something I love about myself, is a flaw to others. It’s an issue to them, rather than a feature. And I know that it limits those who want to date me. It might be challenging to find another ace person to date. And while I know it’s possible I could be happy dating an allo person, I still worry my asexuality might be a burden. That it might prevent someone from feeling fulfilled in a relationship with me. Obviously, if that was the case, I shouldn’t be in a relationship with that person. But that would inevitably lead to quite a sad breakup.

I know my asexuality is special. I know I’m special. I know there are people out there in the world who would be so lucky to know me and be my friend, let alone date me and have the opportunity to be loved by me. Because I am so full of love. I have so much love and joy to give and I look forward to the day when I meet the person I get to spend the rest of my life with. I know it’ll be a love story for the pages. However, it’s different when I tell that to myself. It’s different when I tell myself how compassionate and cool and kind I am, compared to when someone else does. Trust me, I know there are people in my life who think this. I know my friends and family love me. They do think I’m amazing. I don’t need them to verbalize that to know it. But, it’s different when there’s something about you that is so unique, so different from the experience of those around you.

I think it brings me more sadness especially because I am a sex-averse asexual (as opposed to being sex-neutral or sex favorable). I don’t want to have sex. I don’t want to do anything sexual. It would make me extremely uncomfortable. Heck, I don’t even want to kiss someone on the lips. 

That in itself is a whole other topic of sadness. I know I’ve written about this before, but at this point in time, I wish I was an asexual that likes kissing. I hope that desire goes away eventually. But I know it’s okay because our society is so consumed with sex and romance that it can be hard to unlearn things. I don’t need to kiss someone to experience intimacy or show my love. There are so many other ways I can do that. Even though it’s silly of me, I do hope that maybe I will meet someone and want to kiss them. Is that possibly an aphobic thing for me to think about? Probably. But oh well. I know it won’t happen and I can think whatever I want about myself. It just seems so fun and cute. Oh well.

It’s not easy being queer. And unfortunately, the longer I live out and proud as I do, the more I realize that. I live in my own little gay bubble full of joy and rainbows. I talk about being queer and make it a big part of my life because it is. It is so important to me. That is not the reality of queerness. Like many other marginalized communities, being in the queer community is full of heartache. That is the brutal reality of my life. Of my community’s life. And it’s something that isn’t going to go away. Who knows. It might never. 

My asexuality makes me sad. I’m sad people don’t understand it. I’m sad it limits my relationships and dating pool. I’m sad people have so many misconceptions and stereotypes about me and my community. I’m sad there is so little asexual representation in the media. I’m sad I don’t get to experience the spark of a first kiss or the giddy experience of telling my friends a cute boy asked for my number. There are experiences I miss out on because I’m ace and queer and that is something I have to come to terms with.

Alright. That’s enough sadness for today. It maybe didn’t help that I listened to Phoebe Bridgers the whole time I wrote this.

• Asexuality