How exactly does one find oneself involved in a sexual relationship with an asexual human being?
Wait a minute. Is that even possible? I mean, it’s a contradictory statement to say, “I am in a sexual relationship with an asexual person” since, the true definition of the word means one without evident sex, sex organs, or lacking interest or desire in sex.
If one is asexual then they don’t have “sex.” Hell, they might not even have the “tools” to have the “sex.” And, if it is proven that they do, then this person can no longer be asexual, no? Well, at least, that is what I thought.
Yes, please don’t try and overthink it while I try to explain the most head-fucked, yet most fulfilling, situation I have ever gotten my little libido into.
I’ve been involved with boys, girls, men, women, gay boys, gay girls, femmy boys, tranny boys, and both sexes of bisexuals. I was feeling pretty blitzed out about my sexual orientation before I finally realized that I am omni- or pansexual, meaning having no preference on who or what your lover is. It doesn’t mean you are a slut, and it doesn’t mean you will settle for anything. It simply means anything is possible.
Finding my sexual orientation came to me a short time before I befriended my asexual, whom I will call Ace. Ace proclaimed himself to be asexual, and he looked very androgynous. Ace wasn’t very appealing to me when I first met him. He didn’t like the fact, first off, that I called him a “him.” We spent large amounts of time together. It was interesting and fun, and Ace became a very important person in my life. Still, I was not attracted, sexually, to Ace.
I spent the night with Ace, and had a very erotic dream that we woke up and started making out. I became obsessed with this dream, and wondered what it would be like to kiss Ace. After drinking a lot of beer at the beach on a random night, I asked if I could kiss him. More about Escort 93
I did, and it was terrible.
Not only did I have to endure sandy saliva, but his make-out skills were severely bad. I usually won’t make out with someone a second time if the first time isn’t so great, but for some reason over the next few weeks, I found myself kissing him more and more, and Ace became much better very quickly.
During the make-out days with Ace, I pondered in thought over how it felt to become intimate with someone I was sure to never get past first base with. It reminded me of being 13 years old; curious as to what would be next, but not being bold enough to step any further.
It was not an option. I told myself it was unthinkable, so I refused to think about it at all. I wasn’t interested in pulling myself into a fantasy like that, where there would never be an open door of opportunity to bring it into existence.
After a few months of making out, my libido and curiosity finally got the best of me. I remember Ace coming over one night, and we ended up in my bed to go to sleep. I playfully suggested we have sex and we both laughed. Then, I quickly reassured it with a “no, I am serious,” and a bit of awkwardness set in.
During the next four or five hours before sunrise, we talked ourselves in and out of it. I finally concluded in my own head that we should not. Ace concluded he thought we should. As the day broke through my windows, I found myself unclothed and being penetrated by my new best friend, my new asexual lover. An hour or so later we fell asleep, and when we woke up, there was no affection. No kisses, no touch, and, shortly after being awake, he ran away home.
As most virgins do, Ace ran to his journal, and wrote that he did not like sex. I know this, because I read this, and I wasn’t sneaking into any places I shouldn’t be looking. He posted it in electronic form, in a place he knew I would read it. It was a clear indication to me, that I had done something wrong, and I felt very bad.
I’m not 100 percent sure exactly what happened after that. The reality of it, I mean. I remember only what I felt and that it is wasn’t very pleasant. I began living in a small world of denial.
I am not a girl having sex with a boy who doesn’t like sex.
I am not going to fall in love with this person, because they are a child, and can’t comprehend basic human emotions, needs, wants, and lusts.
I am not being humiliated.
I do not crave him.
He is not attractive to me.
I don’t wish to understand his fucked logic.
I will not care that while we are kissing, if he hears a roommate coming up the stairs, he will run to the other side of the room, so they won’t know he actually touches me.
I became very iron-fisted in my resistance to never initiate any type of flirting or affectionate behavior towards Ace. I controlled myself completely, and felt a strange type of satisfaction seeing how long he could hold off before finally giving in and reaching out to touch me.
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I, of course, gave in every single time, even though I was not that girl falling in love with the mysterious subhuman genderless mind-fuck. I didn’t mind that we still made out, petted, or fucked; I just didn’t want to be the one craving it, since he, as he had earlier stated, didn’t like it. It was my way of proving to me that he was lying to himself, and even if he didn’t know it, I did.
Anyone else in my position might have given up, gotten too irritated to deal with it, or just lost interest. But I couldn’t bring myself to cut it off. Ace was a dear friend. I wanted to be around him, and he was beginning to really get under my skin.
It never got boring, either. I had no idea if we would have sex or not. We would hang out, but would we only kiss this time, or would there be more? I wouldn’t know until it happened. He dared not show any indication that he ever laid his hands on me in front of anyone else, even strangers. It was as if he had two different personalities: the one for everyone and the one for me when we were alone. It was curious for me, and heartbreaking.
I remember asking him, “Isn’t sex fun?”
To which I would get different answers each time. I don’t even remember what they were, only that they were never what I wanted to hear. I wanted very badly for him to convince me that he enjoyed sex with me.
I grew bored of my resistance to initiate things, and started warming up to Ace bit by bit. It was alright, never completely comfortable, but it did progress somewhat. I was transforming my state of denial. Instead of not, it became am.
I am a girl who is having sex with a boy who is a lot different from other boys.
I am going to deal with this love that I am creating for this asexual human being.
I am completely satisfied; maybe even more so, not doting on someone constantly.
I am really happy with my situation; it is different, and beautiful, and everyone would be jealous to have what I am experiencing.
I had other friends, other escapades, and I was always searching for some semblance of normalcy in other places. I had sex with other people, and all the things that were lacking with Ace were always there with the others, but they couldn’t keep my interest for many moments after they walked out the door. It slowly began to terrorize my head, and I found myself confiding in others.
I always got the same advice.
“Why don’t you talk to him about this?”
I couldn’t. I couldn’t explain why I couldn’t. I was just stifled.
Being stifled started to consume me. Then one day while Ace was visiting, I tried to kiss him, and he responded with “I don’t think we should do this anymore.”
My heart broke. But, why?
What did I care? We would still be friends. We just wouldn’t be having the stupid awkward sex that has tied my mind in knots for so many months now. It should have felt a whole lot more relieving than it did.
I punished Ace in two ways. I refused to spend time with him for a few weeks, and I fell in love with someone else.
Purposely avoiding Ace felt very gratifying; falling in love with someone else kept my mind clear of him.
I found every single characteristic Ace was lacking, in my new love: affection, the display of sexual emotion and feeling, the longing to be next to me, inside of me. Wanting to talk to me constantly, staying up all hours of the night just to get one more word in, exploring my mind, and what I was thinking at every moment. His insatiable curiosity of how my body worked and his desire to give me total pleasure in between the sheets. Holding hands and kissing in public, every single disgusting thing that couples do was there in my new love.
I was so enraptured by all the great normal qualities that my new love had, that I didn’t even notice all the things he was lacking. Like the impatience of wondering if and when he would kiss me, would we have real sex, or if I would have to make do with just some heavy petting. Battling my lust, and trying to seduce him without being obvious. Mastering a perfect seduction and appeal, that is so great not even an asexual can sustain from submitting to it. Not to mention the lack of hairless girl skin, and beautiful seven-inch uncircumcised penis, all wrapped up in a perfectly toned contortionist’s body.
After finding out the disappointing news about my new love fucking someone else, I invited my Ace over for a movie night. During the movie, he began kissing me, and after a while of that we took off all our clothes, had great sex; and I received my first orgasm from him.
New love was pretty easy to forgive and forget after that night, my bruised ego started to heal, and I felt really good and clear about things. Shortly thereafter, an amazing new sexual feat was achieved most surprisingly when I experienced a corresponding orgasm with Ace. That had never happened to me with any other lover.
It’s been almost two years now since I’ve been having sex with Ace, and he just recently admitted to me he isn’t asexual. I’m not sure what he is trying to say, and that’s the beauty of what keeps my desire strong. I can’t ever expect anything from him, because if I do, it’s always something quite different.
I’ve thought a lot about exactly what was feeding my fear of never opening up my feelings of confusion with Ace, and why I couldn’t explain that to those I confided in. It’s still hard to understand unless you are living it first hand.
You can reach a point in a relationship with a normal functioning sexual human being when you are close and feel confident, but they still intimidate you to a degree because you know, at any moment, they could slip into the arms of another. You may worry about your lover falling for another person, and may busy yourself doing things to keep them interested in you… change your looks, do really nice things for them, spend quality time with them, kick the ass of any other person that looks at them.
When you are in a relationship with someone who claims to be asexual, you aren’t competing with anything. That’s exactly it. Your competition is nothing. How do you compete with nothing? Your lover can either be interested in you because of some small chance that you are lucky enough to gain that interest, or they can choose nothing. How do you get the upper hand on nothing? You don’t. You can’t, and it is useless even attempting. If you try, nothing will win.
The beauty of being asexual is that you don’t have to put up with the drama of busying yourself trying to impress people and convince them to have sex with you. You don’t have the stress of worrying about someone being in love with you, and having to consider their feelings, or being in love with someone and worrying about what they are thinking.
You don’t have to do the disgusting things that couples do in public, you don’t have to hold hands, or argue, or remember their birthday. You don’t have to shave your pubes, care if your breasts are big enough for them, or if you look good naked. You don’t feel bad when you go home alone at the end of the night. You’ve already won the game of seduction, because you have refused to play.
Your life is easy, but god bless those poor individuals who fall hopelessly into your enchanted asexual world of confusion and bliss.
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