One step forward, two steps back

I am asexual…

There it is…I said it…for the first time in my life.
Did I also accept it by now? I don’t know to be honest…

You know, I was somehow strange as long as I can remember and in my teens Miss Depression came, followed by a full-blown Anorexia Nervosa – thus I became even more different from others, I became mentally ill.

But back then I was a weak creature, raised with mantras that a woman’s worth lies in bearing children, pleasing a man and building a family. Unfortunately (for my mother at least) I always despised children and imagining breeding something inside my body and pressing it out of my womb after nine months gives me the most horrible nightmares. So what stayed with me was the idea of sex.

Sex is something “normal”. Sex is something everybody likes, everybody HAS to like. This is now regular people view sex – it’s fun and very enjoyable.

My first time was boring as hell but it was okay. It was the first time after all and everyone around me signalised that from this first time it will only get better, get awesome.
But the feeling of boredom stayed…
I get aroused, I like kissing and touching, but in the very moment the touches wander below my belly button the arousal vanishes and I just start hoping that my partner reaches his orgasm fast and this tiresome act ends.

This is how sex for me is like.

With every partner I had.

And it was an enormous problem for me because I wanted to be “normal” at least in this sector. I never told my partners about how I feel and I went along with their needs…with the hope to maybe get used to it someday and start finally liking it.

It never happened.

Of course I knew about Asexuality but I wasn’t allowing myself to think of me as an asexual. You know, I cannot speak to people properly, I am in a constant fight with my Depression and the Binge Eating Disorder that replaced my Anorexia, I do not know how to socialise ( and no, it not as easy as “go out and just do it” – for me it’s like solving higher mathematical equations, I just don’t understand it, nothing of it) – at least I wanted to be “normal” in regards to sex…but in the end I wasn’t.

Even as I started to erase the word “normal” with all its applied meanings from my vocabulary and slowly but surely stop giving a damn about societal norms altogether, I still am not comfortable to admit it fully to myself.

Now I am in the process of accepting.





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