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Sarah's Story: Understanding A Asexual Identity

A 37-year-old woman: I have never been fond of sex. As a child, I believed broken since people idealized it.”

The only topic that her partner and I have ever clashed over is intimacy in our relationship. Upon getting together almost a decade back, sex was clearly something he wanted more frequently than I wanted. Around a few months of seeing each other, we opted to experiment with an open arrangement so that he could pursue individuals who are more sexual than me.

There were pangs of envy at first, but our bond was reinforced thanks to open dialogue, and I came to feel completely safe in our partnership. This has been a positive change for both of us, because I never truly enjoyed sex. As a teen, I felt out of place as society at large put it on a pedestal, but I never fully comprehended the hype about it.

After discovering literature on asexuality through a post a while back, it was like looking in a mirror. I felt surprised, because previously I identified as a sexual person – I enjoy self-pleasure, and I engaged in a lot of sex in my 20s. But I believe I engaged in a lot of that sex because I felt guilty – an effect of growing up in a culture that tells us it’s necessary to satisfy your partner.

The resource revealed to me was that asexuality is a wide range. To illustrate, I don’t have libido, even for people who I admire visually. I enjoy their appearance, but I have no desire to be intimate with them. But I appreciate reaching climax. For me, it’s enjoyable and it’s a nice release – a way to settle the mental clutter upstairs.

It felt incredibly liberating to tell Cameron that I identify as asexual. He supports this. We sometimes be physical, since I experience intense intimacy and closeness to him when we do, and I am choosing intentionally when I want to be close to him physically. It’s not that I have a physical urge, but I have alternative purposes to be intimate, for example desiring emotional intimacy. I notice his pleasure, and that makes me happy. Likewise that an individual who is allosexual can decide to refrain from sex, I am able to choose to have sex for different purposes than sexual excitement.

Cameron's Experience: Love Outside of Physical Intimacy

A 36-year-old man: The fact that sex isn’t central does not imply that love is lacking.”

Physical intimacy had been extremely significant to me. It’s where I got a lot of my self-esteem. I was ill and in hospital frequently in my youth, so sex turned into something that I thought gave me control with my physical self. It then shift significantly after meeting Sarah, because physical intimacy wasn’t the most important thing for us.

In this relationship, I began seeing additional merit in different aspects of myself, and it reduced the importance of sex. I don’t want to engage sexually with other people currently. Should I have the urge for intimacy, there exist other ways I can manage it. Solo sex is an option, but it might involve a long walk, thinking about what I’m feeling or creative expression.

Upon her discovery of this part of herself, I started to understand that intimacy is more about shared feelings. It can happen during sex, but additionally via alternative ways that are just as valuable and gratifying. I had a particular notion of what asexuality was – if you didn’t have sex, you didn’t ever have sexual feelings. But it varies widely, and it takes time to understand where you stand within it.

Our relationship has lasted for several years, and the fact that sex isn’t the main focus is not a sign that love is absent. Planning intentional periods for that is very important for us. At times we buy complex building kits and do them step by step each day, which seems deeply bonding. Sometimes we’ll have a date night and venture out for a mocktail and a meal. We cuddle and make plans down the road, which is an act of love. I get a lot of pleasure from cooking for other people, and I feel deeply fulfilled like an afterglow of sex.

Sarah’s asexuality has broadened the idea of what our relationship means. It’s like limiting the resources you have to use – you have to be more creative using available means. It encourages you to reflect creatively. But it never reduced the bond that I feel for her whatsoever.