Hi Loves,
it is Lovely,
herself, and because of the fact you like my pansexual post Why being pansexual can be the hell a lot I thought I will do the same again because I also demisexual. So here we go.
When I was young, I suffered several relationship failures, and tried counseling, before deciding that I was just unlucky. I dated women in the hope that sexual attraction would develop. In some cases it never happened; in others it did and, since that was rare for me, I tended to become deeply attached to the women concerned, and that drove some of them away.
I have learned something about myself that has given me a new understanding of my sexuality and prompted me to re-evaluate large parts of my adult life. I’ve learned that I am a demisexual: a person who doesn’t experience the sexual attraction without emotional connection.
You’re Not Broken — You’re Just Demisexual
If you want to ask me to make a list of 5 celebs I want to be friends with I would never be able to make this list.
I was all for making a 5-celebrities-I-would-like-to-be-best-friends-with list. I just couldn’t comprehend such strong sexual attraction to someone I didn’t even know.
Also, one-night stands. Another thing that baffled me. How can people be so vulnerable and intimate with someone they just met?
Well, as it turns out, it seems so strange to me because I’m demisexual.
Demisexuals are on the asexual spectrum. Basically, they need to form a strong emotional bond with someone before they experience sexual attraction.
The concept can be difficult to understand for someone who does feel sexual attraction often. But if you take a bit of time to learn about it, it can go a long way towards helping people feel less alienated.
Because odds are you will meet someone in your life who is either demisexual or somewhere else on the asexual spectrum.
I can’t speak for all demisexuals, but this is an account of my own experiences and struggles. I hope you find it informative and, perhaps, validating.
I remember when I was younger I fretted something awful because I had never kissed anyone.
I was thirteen, I think, and watching an episode of Full House that talked about one of the characters having their first kiss.
I distinctly remember lying on the couch, wondering why kissing someone was such a big deal.
But at the same time, I felt pressure from society that I should care about kissing people, and I felt bad about myself for not experiencing that first kiss.
As I got older, my worries grew bigger.
I felt developmentally behind my peers growing up.
In high school, I avoided getting into relationships.
In university, I felt like I was missing out on “the college experience.” Shouldn’t I be partying and dating and having sex and living?
I think I went on a grand total of two dates in university and both of them were super awkward and uncomfortable. I thought I was just somehow doing dating wrong, but in retrospect, it’s clear that I was just lacking that emotional connection.
I politely turned down offers to go get drinks and stood awkwardly on the side of social events. (Although the latter is more likely due to my social anxiety. Demisexuals are just as likely as anyone else to be social butterflies!)
I steered clear of playing “Never Have I Ever,” for fear that the topics would stray into sexual territory and my own inadequacies would be revealed. Everyone would think I was damaged somehow.
It was a point of shame.
What kind of normal person gets to their mid-twenties without even kissing anyone?
Intellectually I could understand the sexual urges and desires that people experience, but it didn’t make sense to me personally.
Western culture places so much emphasis on milestones that have to do with relationships — your first kiss, losing your virginity, getting married.
But when you grow up without feeling sexual attraction to anyone, those milestones all feel vastly out of reach, and that can have negative effects on someone’s self-esteem and mental health.
It definitely did for me. Because I wasn’t meeting any of those typical milestones, and it made me feel wrong. Like something was fundamentally wrong with me.
I felt excluded from this big secret that everybody had.
I felt broken.
And I felt that way for a long time.
I remember searching for data on the internet about what percent of twenty-somethings are still virgins. Because there I was, a twenty-something virgin, feeling like I had some fatal flaw and desperately searching for evidence that I wasn’t going to die alone and miserable.
I took solace in the forum posts and comments I found from others in the same boat, people who had never been in a relationship — not for lack of options, but because they didn’t want to be in one.
Eventually, I met my current girlfriend and everything that I had thought I was missing clicked into place.
It wouldn’t be for a while after we got together that I stumbled across the term demisexual, but when I did find it, I felt so validated.
I remember excitedly telling my girlfriend about it. “Look! I’m a thing! There’s a name for my weirdness!”
It’s nice to know you’re not “the only one.” To find a community where people understand you. I found that to be true for me, anyway.
I now identify as demisexual and pansexual, but those are both terms I didn’t even know until well into adulthood. I can’t blame other people for not knowing them.
But knowledge fosters tolerance.
So I urge you to stop assuming everyone’s life trajectory is similar to yours. More specifically, stop putting such stock onto people’s relationship status, what they have or haven’t done sexually, or whether they are a virgin.
It doesn’t matter if someone has slept with one hundred people or with no one.
That “magic number” does not add or detract value from a person in any way.
Don’t judge or shame someone for their past relationships and sexual history, or lack thereof.
Don’t write off dating a demisexual because you assume that they won’t want to have sex at some point. Sexual intimacy can be an important factor in a relationship and a lot of demisexuals will fully embrace a physical relationship.
They just have to have the emotional connection first.
For some people, that means friendship. For me, it meant being in love with someone.
I met my ex-girlfriend online, and we talked via email and texting for a good month before even meeting. I think that was one of the things that really helped me form a bond with her. I felt like I knew her before I ever saw her face.
We had a real connection, and when we properly met, I finally felt that sexual attraction that everyone else seemed so hyped about. We didn’t sleep together for a couple of months after that, still (I was a besotted nervous wreck those first several weeks) but for the first time ever, I wanted to.
I was experiencing the thrill of first love, something I thought I would never get to experience and all the raging hormones that accompanied it. It was later in life than most people, sure, but that didn’t matter in the big scheme of things.
So if you feel left out, or like you’re missing out on something, don’t despair. Things will fall into place when you meet the right person.
If you’ve never slept with anyone, or never even kissed anyone, that’s perfectly okay! If you have, and it just didn’t feel right for some reason, that’s okay, too.
Maybe none of this resonates with you exactly, but you still feel “different” somehow. I would encourage you to explore the many types of sexualities that are out there. Google is your friend.
(As a side note, I’ve scoured the internet for information about demisexuality and the first result that comes up is one of the best and clearest resources.)
Maybe you are okay with feeling different, and that’s great! But I know I felt very validated when I first learned of the term “demisexual.”
But even if you don’t seek out answers, I want you to know that you’re not alone. There are other people like you. Your thoughts and feelings and experiences aren’t wrong. You are valid.
And you are most definitely not broken.
