Conversations about sex aren’t interesting.
Friends and coworkers like to talk about sex. They like to talk about what they’ve done, what they’d like to do, and what they’ve heard about other people doing. They boast about bachelor(ette) parties or one night stands. They discuss who’s hot, how hot they are, and what attributes make them hot. They make suggestive comments about the delivery person or the receptionist or the wait staff at the restaurant.
And you couldn’t care less.
If they’re talking about other people, like how “hot” the waitress is or how “steamy” the delivery guy is, there’s a good chance that you didn’t even notice the person until someone pointed them out. If they’re talking about parties or one-night stands, there’s a good chance you don’t have any comparable experiences to discuss. You just zone out when they start talking about these things, and let the conversation run its course. Sometimes, people may notice that you’ve gone quiet and think that you’re offended by where the conversation has gone, but that’s not necessarily the case. You’ve gone quiet because you’ve got no input, no commentary, no questions.
You often find sex scenes in books/TV/movies to be out of place or boring.
You’re watching a movie when suddenly the male and female leads start going at it for no reason: [fast forward!]
You’re reading a book when suddenly it turns to “heaving bosoms” and “love’s juices”: [next chapter!]
Perhaps it’s a sense of “Ew, icky”, but it doesn’t have to be. More often, it’s a sense of “Why are they doing that? What’s the point? Get back to the story!” Half the time, the sexual encounter is unforgivably contrived. Sometimes you can even imagine the writers meeting with their editor or producer and being told to “sex it up a bit, the ratings are off this year”, and the writers just randomly drawing character names from a hat to decide who should go at it.
Bad acting and lame stories in porn really bug you, because, after all, what’s the point in watching a movie if it’s no good?
“Oh, come on, if that sort of thing happened in real life, she’d have that doctor arrested. That guy is a terrible actor, it’s like he never even bothered to look at the script. And don’t even get me started on that set and how cheap it looks! It’s supposed to be a doctor’s office, so where’s the blood pressure thingy and the jar of tongue depressors and the bed with the paper stuff? I mean, that looks like a cheap Army surplus cot from the 50’s! That can’t possibly be sterile! What’s this now? Why is she moaning? He’s not anywhere near her! What is supposed to be happening? She keeps looking directly at the camera, too. And that guy keeps getting in the way of the shot. Didn’t the director plan out the scene with the actors ahead of time? Why am I even watching this?”
You feel like sex comes naturally to everyone else, but you have to work at it.
You look at other people, and they seem to instinctively understand sex, and how to play the game. Your partner handles it effortlessly, while for you, sex ends up more like a poorly-choreographed attempt at a secret handshake that no one taught you than a spontaneous expression of intimacy. It’s like everyone else went to some sort of intensive training camp and knows everything inside and out, while you have to pick it up on the job. Even so, there’s some secret that everyone else seems to know, the key to understanding the whole thing, and you know that you will never learn that secret, no matter how hard you try.
If given the hypothetical chance of a no-strings, no-regrets, no-consequences sexual encounter, you’d have to think about it.
Usually, this comes in the form of a hypothetical situation: “Random Hot Person X appears in front of you and says ‘Let’s get it on’. Would you go for it?” For many people, the response is an unequivocal and immediate, “Yes”. For others, it’s “No, I can’t, my boyfriend wouldn’t let me”. But for you, it’s something more like, “Well, I don’t know… It’s Friday. Fringe is on. I guess I could record it, but I was looking forward to watching it all day.”
You never initiate sex.
It’s not that you dislike sex. It’s not that your partner isn’t any good. It’s that you just never think about it. It’s never on your mind. So, as a result, you never think, “Hey, I’d like to have sex right now. I should go see if my partner is up for it.”
This, of course, can cause problems in relationships. Your partner may end up feeling like they always do all the work and may even begin to think that your lack of initiative is an indication that you’re not really in love with them.
You don’t catch it when people are flirting, even when you’re the one doing the flirting.
I’ve seen this one pop up in asexual discussions a couple of times. It’s happened to me, and I just thought I was completely oblivious. I’ve been told that I’m good at flirting, even though I just thought I was having a normal conversation. And whenever someone is flirting with me, I won’t notice. (And probably wouldn’t know what to do, even if I did.) Only hours later, when I think back on the conversation, will I realize that something was off.
I was once on vacation, in a park, taking 3D pictures with a homemade stereoscopic camera. A woman called me over and started asking questions about the camera, and telling me how she was a photographer, too. We spoke for a minute or two, then I continued wandering around the park. On my way back to my car, I passed the bench, and she loudly lamented to her friend “Where are all the good men in this town?”
I was literally in the next state when I realized that she probably wasn’t that interested in my camera.
Asexuality: Myths, Misconceptions and Other Things That Are Just Plain Wrong
Since asexuality is rather unknown, it is subject to a lot of misinformation and ignorance. Many of these misconceptions can be offensive and hurtful. All of these are things that people have actually said to or about asexual people. It’s time to set the record straight.
Asexuals don’t exist.
I’m asexual. I wrote this. You’re reading this. Therefore this exists, therefore I exist, therefore asexuals exist.
QED.
Asexuality is the same as celibacy.
Asexuality describes someone’s sexual orientation, that is, that they do not experience sexual attraction to anyone. Celibacy describes someone’s behavior, that is, that they do not have sex with anyone. Orientation is not behavior, attraction is not action. Celibacy and asexuality are neither mutually exclusive nor mutually linked. It is possible for an asexual person to not have sex and be celibate, and it’s also possible for an asexual to have sex and not be celibate.
I do consider myself to be celibate, as I have not engaged in any sexual activity with anyone else in over nine years.
Asexuality is a choice.