A/Sexy Tango

{September 5, 2012}   A Small Moment of Self-Indulgence

Most people that know me well know that I’m very cynical about the traditional relationship paradigm. When I’m being totally honestly, I’m borderline anti-romantic, though I do try to keep those sentiments to myself. Relationships are an option for me, not one I will ever actively seek out and if I do find myself in one, it’s rarely treated as anything of supreme importance or priority. I appreciate any partner I have a lot more as my best friend than I do as some ridiculously important person that I put high above all others in my life. I dumped my first boyfriend without looking back when he became jealous of my male best friend and asked me to stop spending time with him. I would do the same for my current partner or any that might come after him.

As of right now, though, I’m going to celebrate one small, cliche thing. Today is my three year anniversary.

Not the dating anniversary. I have no idea when Gin and I became an official item and I really don’t care.

Today, three years ago, Gin spotted me walking past the booth he was working at during Anime Vegas. I happened to be holding a plushie of Gin Ichimaru, the character he was cosplaying. Being the outgoing and hyper creature he is, he screamed, “It’s me!” and hugged me… well, more like flying tackle hugged, but you get the picture. My friend (who immediately developed a crush on one of Gin’s coworkers) and I spent most of the rest of the day at his booth. And the day after.

When con was over, I figured I might see him again the next year (hopefully with a better dye job or a wig this time), but didn’t think much of it. A few days later, I got a text.

hey its gin

We stayed up all night texting about absolutely nothing. Three years and two phone changes later, he’s still Gin in my phone. Now, though, when we stay up all night talking, he’s in bed with me, we’re probably watching something nerdy on the XBox or playing a video game, and I’m mentally kicking myself because I know getting Gin out of bed and to work on time the next morning is going to be a nightmare.

I don’t believe in The One. I don’t believe in true love. I don’t even believe it’s within my capacity to fall in love the way most people describe it. What I do believe in is the the 18 year old boy I met at an anime convention who had the guts to give me a hug, the pretty awesome man he’s grown into since I met him, and the trust I can put in him right here and now to be the person I can rely on whatever comes our way. Maybe we’ll stay together for the rest of our lives, maybe we won’t, but I hope that the friendship that built our relationship will stay as strong as it is right now no matter where life takes us. I’m happy for what my life has become with him in it.

For that reason, and because I think celebrating the day you started dating someone is a strange tradition, I’m going to celebrate today, the day I met my strange, obnoxiously extroverted, and hilariously perverted partner.

Thanks, honey, for everything.


Last week, I had a conversation on AVEN that I found extremely amusing. Unfortunately, it was one I had to walk away from it because it was going nowhere and Gin was becoming increasingly upset with the implications that were coming from the other user, mainly that I am prostituting myself by choosing to have sex with my partner when it’s not something that I desire and he, in the process of doing normal “relationship” things like supporting me while I go to college, is little more than a sugar daddy. So, yes, ladies, gentlemen, and all in between, there you have it: compromise now makes you a prostitute.

Unfortunately, this theme has cropped up a few other times lately. There’s this idea among certain groups that an asexual who has sex is betraying, hurting, or, yes, prostituting themselves. Don’t get me started on the “you’re not really asexual if you have sex” comments, because this post will very quickly be reduced to an angry rant. These comments bother me for a number of reasons, but the biggest reason is the undercurrent of antisexuality that comes with these statements. If I were telling most of these people about going to see a movie I don’t particularly want to see because my partner does, they’d applaud me for being a patient spouse or at the very least give me the sympathetic “Yeah, boyfriends are annoying like that.” But if I’m having sex? Suddenly I’m prostituting myself, hurting myself, betraying my asexuality. How do you betray an aspect of yourself, anyway?

Yes, if you’re repulsed, I can understand the idea of hurting yourself. Forcing yourself to repeatedly do something repulsive and emotionally traumatizing is hardly healthy. Ditto for experiencing pain during sex. I’d think that one is obvious, but if it’s not, something for all members of ANY kind of relationship: If you or your partner is in pain during intercourse and they’re not enjoying it, that’s a cue to stop and find an alternative or just flat out stop. Please. It breaks my heart every time I hear about a woman who is repeatedly forcing herself to have sex despite the pain it causes her. Having been there, no one should have to endure that. This isn’t what this post is about, though, so let’s get back on topic.

Let’s look at the idea of hurting/betraying yourself for a moment, as it applies to non-repulsed asexuals who are capable of and willing to have sex with their partner. I think this is a very personal, decide-for-yourself matter. Only you know if you are mentally or emotionally hurting yourself by doing something that you do no want to do. There are so many factors that come into play, (trust in your partner, physical experience and sensation, state of mind, and your own personal feelings about sex, to name a few)that only the person having sex can decide if they are truly hurting themselves. An outsider has no way of knowing or accessing this information and, more often than not, is running on their own personal feelings about the situation. And what about betraying your sexuality? Honestly, I just want to slap the person who says this. A sexuality isn’t an ideal, a directive, even personal feelings. It’s what you are, a component of yourself that can be no more betrayed than the color of your hair or the kind of food you prefer. If you’re antisexual, dislike sex on a personal level, or have some kind of moral issue with the situation, then, yes, you can be considered to be betraying yourself, but that, in and of itself, is also something personal that an outsider has no business judging.

Now, for the fun part. Let’s look at this prostitution idea, just for the hell of it. The dictionary.com definition of a prostitute is

1. a woman who engages in sexual intercourse for money; whore; harlot.

2. a man who engages in sexual acts for money.

3. a person who willingly uses his or her talent or ability in a base and unworthy way, usually for money.

So, let’s paraphrase and say that a prostitute gets paid to have sex OR a prostitute sells themselves or their abilities in some demeaning way.  I don’t recall Gin ever handing me money after we have sex. (Okay, so there was that one time, but that was because we need to put gas in the car.) So, let’s broaden that definition a bit. Let’s say he’s “paying” me by doing the normal things a boyfriend does (or at least should do), cuddling, supporting me, helping around the house, accomodating some of my stranger quirks, but then again I do things like that for him, too. Why is only the sex in our relationship being singled out, then? Because it’s something I don’t want to do? I don’t want to help him with his calculus homework because I hate math, but I do it because he wants to get a good grade in his class. Using the same “broad” definition of payment, my helping with his homework could be seen as the second paraphrased definition of prostitution, but no one call that prostitution. They call it being a good friend. So, here I am, wondering why what would normally considered a healthy cohabitation relationship with mutual give and take, compromise, and affection is suddenly being reduced to prostitution because I’m having sex.

This is where that thread of antisexuality comes in. A person who dislikes a certain thing, thinks it is evil, immoral, dangerous, is going to put it on that annoying really big deal pedestal. They tend to single it out and, when they see it in action, will tend to find a way to make the person involved in that thing either a good or bad person, depending on what they want and do with said thing. Those people who think there’s something inherently wrong with me choosing to have sex for my partner’s sake tend to have put sex on that really big deal pedestal. So, no matter how I or my partner feel about sex, to them me having sex without naturally wanting sex makes our relationship a bad thing.

To those like me who have experienced this sort of thing, I apologize. It’s obnoxious and juvenile. People should be able to have and enjoy their own choices, sexual or otherwise, without having to endure their relationships and partners being demonized. I wish I had some legitimate advice for how to handle these situations, but I have yet to see one of these people who can be convinced that what they see is evil is, in fact, not. I can say, though, that they are wrong. However they may feel, it does not matter. Who you are, what you feel about yourself, your relationship, and what happens in it are all that matters. If you’re alright having sex, for any reason, that should be all that matters.

Random afterthoughts: For those who do not know, part of the reason for my long absence has been because I was recently made a moderator on AVEN. Another reason has been that I lost my apatment (landlord went bankrupt), moved, and am trying to move again because my apartment is far too crowded. I’ll do my best to return to regular posting. Also, college.

Hey, all. Sorry for the long absence. Life dragged me away from the computer for a while, but now finals are over, moving is (for the most part) done, sicknesses have been handled, and I’m back to terrorize you all with my wit, sarcasm, and strange opinions on relationships.

I haven’t completely been ignoring this blog, though. I’ve been working on something very big that I don’t want to post until it’s just right. I’ve spent a lot of time talking to other mixed couples about this upcoming post and I hope it will be a big help to partners on both sides of the coin. Thank you, everyone, for your patience, and I look forward to posting my next bit very soon.

I’ve been staring at an empty New Blog Post box for three days now trying to decide what I’m going to write about. I’ve beaten the topic of sex to death with a stick and I feel as though I need to move on to something else for a while. Unfortunately, my brain has been consumed by things like the impending release of The Hunger Games, a book I will happily admit to being addicted to, Gin’s pain in the ass ex boyfriend and his inability to comprehend the fact that his relationship ended several months ago, a new job, and the horror that is midterms. (Note to self: never, EVER try to make a steel-boned corset from scratch AGAIN… especially if it’s for school.) I’m going to babble for a bit and see if anything forms into a coherent blog post.

Let’s talk about compromise for a few minutes. Not compromise sex, but compromise in general. I’m compromising with Gin at the moment by tolerating his perverted, obnoxious, cheating manwhore butt buddy being in our apartment after he asked to see me naked this morning. No, not really. This isn’t compromise. This is me being way too tolerant and knowing that this is the very last time I am ever going to have to see the vile creeper as he is moving to Oregon next week. (my condolences to the citizens of Oregon) In reality, the compromise is putting up with the creature at all.

Let’s face it: we’re never going to be friends with ALL of our spouse’s friends. Life is never that easy. As much as I hate many of Gin’s friends (and the feeling is definitely mutual), I’m kind of stuck with them. Just the same, if I actually HAD friends that lived near me, he’d probably be irritated by them now and then, too. This is one of the compromises of any relationship, particularly a college age one, particularly a college age one where one half of the relationship is asexual. As much as sexuality amuses me, I still get sick of hearing Gin and his friends talk about sex, sex, and more sex. Last night I overheard one of Gin’s friends grilling him about my “supposed” asexuality and asking him why he’s with some dumb bitch that claims to not like sex. This is a fairly common occurrence that I find truly hilarious because generally the comments come from boys that aren’t in relationships themselves. Thankfully, Gin takes there nonsense with more grace than I ever could. He feeds them bits of information or a funny story and is general distracts them from the topic of my sexuality or his acceptance of my freakishness.

It’s interesting to see the different views of friendship the two of us have and how it affects other aspects of our lives. I grew up as an only child and spent most of my time around adults. I would sit in my dad’s mechanic bay with him for hours reading books or listening to him and the other mechanics banter. The few close friends he and my mom had were never around much because they were either busy working or lived far away. Everyone else was treated with kindness and a measure of friendship, but never really got that close to them. This seems to have had a huge impact on me, as I tend to have a handful of close friends that I can go for months without talking to and still be as close as ever with when we meet up again. Gin, on the other hand, grew up in a neighborhood with other kids his age and spent a lot of time with them or with his older brother and his friends. As a quasi-adult (21 years old or not, I refuse to start calling him an adult until he can wash his own clothes, pay his own bills, and cook a meal that does not include a microwave), Gin still needs almost constant companionship in one form or another. Many of his “friends” treat him horribly, yet he prefers their company to being alone. It infuriates me because I never seem to have any solitude when I’m staying with him. There’s always people around, usually very loud, rude, drunk, and annoying people.

Needless to say, it’s difficult to find a middle ground. I thrive in solitude and he thrives in… being abused by as many people as possible. (This is over-protective girlfriend logic, mind you.) This only gets compounded by the fact that I view my sex life as, if not private, then not something that people should be inquiring about at every available opportunity. I don’t particularly care if people know or not and I enjoy discussing sex, but there’s a difference between discussing it and people picking your brain about your sex life. Gin’s friends love to do the latter. Seems like a lot of people do, actually. It’s no business of theirs how much I put out and how I do it, but they never seem to shut up about it and Gin, brilliantly fitting the male stereotype, is usually happy to share. It’s not something I particularly mind, but it irritates me to no end that his friends are always bugging him about it. He has no problem with it at all, including some of the hateful bile they spew about my asexuality.

We’ve had a lot of discussion about how bent out of shape I can get about what other people do/think/say and how infuriating it is that most of it just rolls right off his back. There are days when I get mad at him answering their questions just because I’m so sick of them asking. There’s a wide range of sentiments among them as to my asexuality, lack of libido, etc., and, while some are supportive and understanding, most seem to be hellbent on being assholes about it. I’ve lost count of all the times I’ve nearly gone storming into the room to put one of them in their place, though it’s never the shots they take at me that do it. It’s when they start insulthim, implying that my asexuality is somehow his fault, saying that he’s not good enough at sex, that I get really upset. I know Gin has low self-esteem and I don’t understand how hearing that doesn’t bother him more. Worse yet, I can’t for the life of me understand why he chooses to keep such vile company.

It’s a compromise we’re both still working on. He thinks I need more friends. I think he needs better friends. We both have to work around each other’s quirks when it comes to friends because it’s all I can do not to beat some of his with a frying pan and it’s all he can do not to beat me with one over not having any. We can’t change each other, though, and we can’t choose friends for each other, either, so at the end of the day I spend hours listening to these noisy, illiterate cretins jab at my sexuality, my boyfriend’s sexual prowess, discuss random vile things that make even my curious self cringe, and generally make nuisances of themselves until something (usually Gin finally realizing how sick I am of them) makes them leave for the night while he wonders why I’m not in the thick of it all enjoying the company like he is. For me, it’s a bigger issue than sex, because sex is something I can understand and accept. His taste in friends, however, I just can’t seem to wrap my mind around.

Hmm…. I suddenly feel a lot better. I guess the typing diarrhea session did me some good.

First and foremost, let’s try not to bring religion into this, shall we? The only thing I might be more jaded about than romance is organized religion and I do not wish to alienate my readers by spewing my opinions of it. Ask me no questions and all that nonsense.

I’ve recently had quite a few conversations both on AVEN and in real life that involve the idea abstinence until marriage. As I am not married, this is obviously not a belief that I follow nor do I much like the idea of others following it. My reasoning stems almost entirely from stories I have heard on AVEN and other asexual sites, though it was something I had already considered long before discovering asexuality. As early as middle school I questioned the common sense involved in abstinence until marriage. I remember asking my teacher (I attended a Christian prep school, btw) “What if two people get married and one of them find out they don’t like sex?” My teacher’s response was, “No one is supposed to like sex. Sex is for making babies.” But that’s a different tirade in and of itself.

Case and point: As soon as I understood what sex was, I wondered if everyone likes sex, want it the same way, same amount, same position. Once my teachers started pushing this strange “abstinence until marriage” concept, those questions only got worse. What did couples do if they didn’t have the same sexual appetites? What if they couldn’t get past those differences? Back then I had no understanding of how important sex can be for some people nor how horrible of an experience it can be for others, so I assumed it would simply lead to no sex.

As an adult who has witnessed the rise and fall of more relationships than I care to count and read far too many stories about asexuals who found themselves married and unable to provide for their partner’s sexual needs, I can honestly say I now think abstinence until marriage is a fool’s errand. That hardly means that I think everyone should go around and shag every potential partner, but I do think that everyone, asexual or no, should seriously consider having sex once or twice with their partner if they intend to have a sexual relationship after marriage. Many of the asexuals I have spoken to truly regret not having sex until they were married. Had they known about their sexual apathy/repulsion/whatever other negative emotion, they would have been able to go into their relationship with their eyes open. Many would not have married, though others simply wish they had been able to discuss these issues with their partners beforehand and given them the chance to back out.

Just the same, I have met many sexuals with those same regrets. Whether their partner was asexual or not, they have been forced to cope with incompatible sexual appetites that put a huge strain on their marriage. While these incompatibilities are not the end-all, be-all of relationships, most partners would have preferred to go into those relationships with their eyes open instead of making the discovery on their wedding night and having to cope with them for the rest of their married lives.

This is why I’m opposed to abstinence until marriage: It’s bad enough that we live in a society where sex is always pushed as something wonderful that everyone enjoys, that you always want to have sex with the person you love, but then you add abstinence until marriage (and the annoying tendency towards those who push said abstinence to also encourage ignorance about sex) into the mix. Especially to those who are not aware of asexuality, it can feel like a trap. “Yay! We’re married! I can finally have sex!” an hour later “Oh no! They don’t like sex and I just absolutely love it! I want more!”

On a side note, I have been reading a few downright alarming comments from asexuals who are hiding behind the concept of abstinence until marriage. They are entering into serious relationships, some admitting their asexuality, some not, and using the cover of being abstinent until marriage to avoid having sex with their partner. Others are choosing abstinence for religious reasons, but it still stands that they are going into these relationships with partners who are sexual, who are going to be expecting sex, and will not have sex with them before they marry. As I have already made clear, I believe that this is a horrible idea, particularly for those who might have an aversion to sex, a low/no libido, or any other indication that they might not be able to easily compromise with their partner. This is paramount, in my opinion, to setting a trap for your partner. You know these issues might arise and yet you continue on as though they are unimportant.

I am begging you, any asexual who is considering such a route, please speak to someone (there are many people on AVEN) who have already been through this. Speak to some of the sexual partners about the pain that these sexual incompatibilities can cause or to the asexuals who found themselves trapped in miserable situations.

Sex. Sex. Sex. Sometimes it feels like you can’t turn on the tv or read a book without getting bombarded with sexual imagery, implications, and copious amounts of sexual tension. I know sexual people who find this irritating, much less those like myself who just don’t get it and find it annoying at best. It can be downright alarming for someone who is repulsed by sex or is antisexual. It can be equally alarming for people like my mother who think sex is something sacred that should only be shared by two people who are deeply in love and committed to each other.

Sex can mean so very many things to different people. People think it’s immoral and somehow wrong and disgusting. People think it is the greatest thing in the world that everyone should experience and enjoy. People think it’s a fun passtime or a painful experience. More often than not, they have a very hard time seeing sex from the other person’s perspective and that is one of the hardest things to work through.

As an asexual, it took me a long time to understand how very, very important sex can be to my non-asexual counterparts. It is at best a non-essential to me, something with no emotional attachments and certainly not something that has ever felt important to me in any way. I’d rather read a good book than have sex and I never understood why everyone else seemed to obsessed with it. Not until I met Gin and found someone I could talk openly and honestly with without fear or angering someone or being teased that I began to learn and understand exactly what sex can mean to a sexual person.

For people like Gin, it is a stress reliever, a show of affection, of trust, but above all else, to him, it is something fun that is more fun when you’re enjoying it with someone else. He has a very high libido and going too long without some kind of sexual release is very hard on him, but I’ve noticed that his need for sex is different than another person’s need. This is another thing that I, as an asexual, took a long time to understand, particularly after hearing so many people toss the word need around in ways that it really does not apply to. Everyone’s needs are different and that includes sexual needs.

Many people don’t need sex itself so much as the intimacy that comes with sex. I’ve spoken to a lot of frustrated asexuals who don’t understand why their partners aren’t satisfied with just masturbation to “scratch the itch” and this is why. Comparing masturbation to sex is like comparing listening to a radio to attending a live concert. They are two vastly different experiences with different emotions and experiences attached to it. On AVEN, a user called sexualwithasexual was kind enough to give me this wonderful comment in regards to needs and sexuality:

“This word NEED is problematic, here on AVEN and in general w/sex I think. Men pressure women into sex saying it’s a “need”!! Maybe women do this too, but when I was in high school especially, I got this a lot, like it was an uncontrollable thing. Ick.

But there is a real NEED with sexuality. It wants to be expressed. Maybe that’s hard to get for some. […] Say you love to talk. To people, to groups, to yourself… But your partner has no desire to talk to you, and neither do they want you to talk to anyone else, and since they know you love to talk to yourself, they lock you up safely in a room, where you can talk to yourself all you want.

No thanks. I thinks I NEED to talk to another human being every once in a while, thank you very much. I know I’d love this to be with my partner, and while I don’t think I’ve ever used the NEED word in our discussions, I’ve come close, saying basically the same thing anyway, just struggling to have her understand how important the whole thing is to me.”

Their description very much hit the nail on the head for me. The act of sex in and of itself is not a need, contrary to what many, many horny teenagers will tell you, but for many people, the intimacy and love connected with sex very much is a need. It is something unparalleled in closeness and affection, a show of love unlike any other that is very much a need to someone who is sexually attracted to the person they are with.

Even though I do not understand these feelings myself, I know they are real and they are truly important to the people that have been wonderful enough to share them with me. This is why I do my best to encourage sexual compromise in mixed relationships and why I become frustrated with asexuals who constantly make their sexuals out to be the bad guy. Yes, some are legitimately oversexed assholes, but so many more are just frustrated and confused because they don’t understand our apathy any more than we understand their need.

P.S. A note on the topic of sex as a need: If I hear one more story about high school boys telling their nervous girlfriends they need to have sex for some crack reason like blue balls, they’re full of it and just trying to get laid.

Sorry for the disappearing act, folks. I’ve been in the land of dial-up and posting from my phone is just too much of a headache for me to play with when I’m already juggling my family drama and annoying college drama. I won’t bore you with the details, but needless to say I’m having a ‘I hate the world’ week.

Perfect time for my favorite subject of hate in the month of February, then. You guessed it. Valentine’s Day, aka Commercialization-Of-Love Day or Feel-Like-Crap-Because-You’re-Single Day. I fondly remember Valentine’s Day in high school, getting the pity treatment from everyone and their mom because I didn’t have a boyfriend on “the most romantic day in the world”. Someone gag me. Half a decade later and 2.something years into my first real relationship, I hold the same opinion.

I think a day devoted to spending time with the person you love is a wonderful idea. Really, I do. I don’t, however, believe that the day should be about men showering their girlfriends in lavish, generic gifts (which seems to be the most common aim of Valentine’s Day advertisements of all kinds.)  I should probably point out now that I hate diamonds with a firey passion, think flowers are the most horrible presents in existence, and chocolates as gifts were invented by controlling men who wanted to make sure they kept their wives by any means necessary, including making them fat and unappealing to other men.

….Okay, so that last one was a bit of an exaggeration. I love chocolates, actually, but the health nut in me cringes at the idea of someone buying their beloved a diabetic coma in a box for a romantic gift. Don’t get me started on ‘Edible Undies’ or any other chocolate/candy lingerie item. I stand by my dislike of diamonds and flowers, though. And hearts. Definitely hate the obsession with hearts.

Beyond my hateful tirade, however, I actually will encourage my readers to celebrate Valentine’s Day. Why? Not that any of us should need a reason to dote on our loved ones, but why pass up a perfectly valid excuse to do so? Valentine’s Day shouldn’t (isn’t, as far as I am concerned) be about lavish gifts or how much money you spent on the person you’re with or trying to get laid at the end of the night. This isn’t a contest. This is about spending the day with the person you love for no other reason than you want to be with them. Do something that both of you enjoy. It doesn’t have to be expensive or even necessarily romantic, just something that you both love. Maybe it’s something to remind the both of you of what drew you together in the first place. Revisit the place you met, the place you proposed, the place where you first utterly and completely embarrassed yourself in front of them. It doesn’t matter as long as it means something to you.

For those of us in complicated relationships (and, let’s face it, there are very few people who know complicated better than sexual/asexual mixed couples) these days can be a good way of reminding ourselves about the wonderful things in our relationship. A wonderful tradition I learned from a friend of mine in high school is The Love List. It’s a simple enough concept, really. Each of you writes down the things you love about each other and exchange the lists. Sometimes you just hand over the list. My friend and his boyfriend, who both have strenuous full-time jobs and rarely get to spend more than a few hours at time together, will send one item from the list to each other at a time through a text or an email. I had the pleasure of watching this one day in my sophomore year of high school and every time one of them got a text, I could see his eyes light up.

Not going to lie, I tease them mercilessly about it and think it’s a hilariously sappy thing to do, but I also see how wonderful it really is for them. It’s a tradition that has lasted them for eight years now and I still never get tired of seeing the love those two have for each other. I also think sappy and corny things can sometimes be the best, but you’ll never hear me say that out loud.

P.S. To the curious, my Valentine’s Day is most likely going to consist of going to see The Woman in Black with Gin since we’re both suckers for scary movies and then a trip to the local anime themed ramen shop, which is the closest we can come to revisiting the anime convention where we met. Homemade tiramisu (Gin’s favorite dessert) might be involved. So might a necklace I’ve been eyeing for the last year and a half. *crosses fingers*

{January 26, 2012}   When It Stops Being Compromise

Gin and I were having a chat last night about mutual compromise and sacrifice. Granted, we were yelling at each other and it was about having to wait to go grocery shopping (we yell at each other a lot, btw, it’s nothing to be concerned about), but it still hit home with something I read on tumblr a few days ago about someone who was essentially being guilted into “compromise” sex by their SO.

No. Just… no. That is not compromise. That is an asshole who is using guilt as a tool to get what he wants and that is not something I ever want my readers to endure. Compromise is meant to be mutual and born of love and acceptance if not understanding, never guilt. Do I feel guilty about my lack of sexuality? Yes. At the end of the day, I would be lying if I said that I do not occasionally feel guilty about my lack of sexuality/libido/interest in sex. I wish I could feel the same things Gin does, but he would never, even for a moment, consider using that against me and that, more than anything else, makes me willing to compromise with him.

This, ladies and gentlemen and all between, goes both ways. Guilt is a useful tool, but it is not one that should be used often or lightly (if ever, though even I am, ahem, guilty of it now and then). For the sexual half of any relationship, you should not be made to feel guilty about wanting sex. I have no more love for an asexual who constantly guilts their partner for wanting sex than I do a sexual who guilts their partner for not wanting it. I tease Gin a lot about his high libido and the odd moments when he’s interrupted something important (sleep, this blog, a vital battle in Skyrim) because he’s horny and I have been known to take my revenge on him by making him horny at uncomfortable, inopportune times (note to asexual SOs, lollipops are VERY good tools for teasing when you have to be otherwise “well behaved”), but there’s no guilt there, just love and a little exasperation and fun.

If you think your SO is guilting you too much, speak up for Apollo’s sake!  Do something about it, because you don’t deserve to be made to feel bad and forced into a bad situation because of it. Using guilt to force someone into sex is paramount to abuse, as is using guilt to force someone to be celibate. It’s a dangerous game to play in a relationship and one that never, ever ends well.

On a side note, yes, I am upset about the recent episode of House. I very much want to take a stick to some of the execs in charge of it, but I will say one thing, one small thing in favor of it that ALL couples should take note of:

The wife, the one that lied about being asexual, did it out of love for her husband. I will never encourage lying, but I do love the sentiment. She chose a life of celibacy to stay with the man she loved and that is something that everyone should take note of. I’ve only see one celibate mixed relationship work but I won’t lie when I say that I got a spark of hope for all such mixed couples when I watched that episode. If a sexual person is brave enough and willing to choose that life, not out of guilt but truly out of love, then I have that much more respect for them. 

In response to THIS interview with Steven Moffat:

I will stop short of calling you ignorant and stupid. I will even try to give you the benefit of a doubt in your interpretation of a character who has been a symbol in the asexual community since it’s inception and your… interesting interpretation of his logic about relationships. However, I feel I must say one thing.

There is NOTHING boring about relationships involving asexuals. If you truly believe that there is no tension, no “fun” in a character who is asexual, then you, sir, need to take some lessons from the character you are writing in observational skills. Just because we don’t feel the need to shag anyone who catches our eye, that means we’re not interesting enough? I realize we live in a very sexualized society, Mr. Moffat, but really, that is low. Coming from one person lacking a brain/mouth filter to another, do a little bit of homework before you start spouting nonsense that will insult a VERY large portion of your fanbase.


The Great WTF

P.S. In the wake of Moffat’s recent response on Twitter, I will add this because I don’t feel it is worthy of another post:

Boring lifestyle? You REALLY don’t know asexuality very well, do you? Not that it matters, of course, as Sherlock is not and should not be about romance or, gods forbid, sexual tension, so your assertion of heterosexual celibate being more “interesting” than asexual is invalid anyway. Good job needlessly sticking your foot in your mouth. This is why you leave fans to their speculation.

{January 19, 2012}   That Annoying Itch

Okay, so we’re getting out of territory I’m familiar with today and touching on a subject that is fairly important: libido. Personally, I have none, but there are asexuals who DO have libidos. Often, they are not as strong as those of someone who experiences sexual attraction and they do not have a specific “target” per se, but they are there. I’ve heard it described as an itch that needs to be scratched by both sexuals and asexuals alike. The primary difference is that, to someone who experiences sexual attraction, libido and attraction are often connected (ie, “I want to have sex with this person.”) while, to an asexual, there’s just “the itch”, the physical urge to (usually) masturbate without a person or image in mind.

My boyfriend, unlike me, has a fairly healthy libido, which is where the issues start. It’s very rare that, in a mixed relationship, (or any relationship really) both parties involved will always want and be willing to have sex at the same time. There are factors other than libido, of course, such as how tired one person is compared to the other, state of mind, etc. but at the end of the day a lack of libido can be a detriment to trying to make a relationship work. The question, then, is how to work around that?

I’ve talked to a lot of people that try to keep to a schedule for having sex, something that meets the needs of the sexual without being too severe of a strain on the asexual. This also gives the asexual time to plan and get in the right frame of mind for sex instead of being worried about whether or not their partner will ask for it tonight. For a lot of couples, this seems to work. I feel that this brings to mind more of the “chore” mindset that a lot of asexuals have towards sex. It can also lead to the asexual starting to dislike or dread the days they will be expected to have sex. This can be a problem.

Personally, I am a big fan of spontaneity, and I know that a lot of sexuals REALLY appreciate it when their asexual partner initiates sex of their own volition. It lessens the feeling of imposition that can come when they are the ones that initiate and makes it seem like less of a chore. I know from experience that this can be difficult (and sometimes mind-boggling) for some of us, but I’ve found a couple very useful tricks.

  • A sexy outfit works wonders. Even if it’s just a cute pair of panties and a cami, girls, a little “display” like that works as a great invitation. Not sure how that one applies for men, though, since I have no idea what constitutes a “sexy outfit” for me. Assless chaps? Bikini briefs with ‘eat me’ on the front?
  • Don’t be afraid to be the one that “takes the next step”. If you’re cuddling, initiate a deep, passionate kiss. Grope a little, play around, if that’s normally what they start. It’ll be a pleasant surprise for them.
  • Tease them. Psyche them up for it. Start with a cute text while they’re at work, little messages hear and there that give the impression you want to have sex, get them excited to come home. It’ll put both of you in the mood for it, in your own ways, and makes it fun getting ready.
  • If all else fails and you’re truly lost as to what to do, take a lesson from Mal in one of my personal favorite webcomics, Head Trip.

    They'll appreciate the honesty. They'll probably find it cute, too.


et cetera
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