seemed vast and varying. Not desiring sex was something I could grasp amazingly well, but some websites said asexual people would still engage in such activities anyway while others found that highly unlikely. One blog specifically stated to not make jokes about science class, and that didn’t make me feel too hot. Eventually I ended up watching a documentary on asexuals in relationships.
Propping my tiny little screen on the bedside table, I turned the volume all the way up and grabbed some paper. My intention was to take notes on the subject as if it were an experiment, but about ten minutes in, I abandoned my notes as I had a crisis. There was a list of ways people could show affection without sex (massages, bathing, cuddles etc.) and it all sounded like more than I could ever hope for. There was an interview with one woman speaking about how she saw the beauty in others but never thought to apply the word “sexy” to any of them, and she wasn’t ashamed when she spoke of her dislike of making out.
Oh my God, that’s me.
So much of what they were saying was applying to me that I had to pause the movie and think for a bit. It seemed unfair to have to deal with more than one sexuality crisis in the span of high school.
Holy crap, could I be asexual?
For something I hadn’t even known existed before that day, it was making a big change in my view of the world. Maybe I wouldn’t ever be obligated to have sex with another person in order to make them stay with me. The thought was freeing: I wouldn’t have to pretend. It was just a matter of finding someone else who understood.
And Ashlinn is this way too.
Except it was scary. Truly, skin crawlingly scary. Things were unlikely to work out with the voyeur to dreams; I wasn’t so naive to believe otherwise. And then what? I could end up alone forever. Unloved and isolated. That wasn’t the life I wanted to lead.
This wasn’t the sexuality I wanted to have.
The documentary ended, and I felt increasingly pessimistic, then grabbed my phone and wandered downstairs to track down some late breakfast/early lunch. It was something healthy that I didn’t taste, too busy examining my desires. Would Ashlinn consider a relationship with someone like me? It seemed impossible. There’s no way such a thing could end well. Still, my mind continued to dwell on the prospect. I wanted to see her laugh so hard tears came to her eyes, to be close to her, to do the things the documentary had spoken of. Hell, I would have given an arm just for the ability to text her at that point. There was a sliver of hope, and it was more than what I’d had in the past several months.
After lunch I put on a leotard and practiced my dance. The choreography was finished, which was good, considering the audition was only one day away. Now it was just a matter of making it absolutely perfect. Those ninety seconds would dictate the course of my entire life. Every structured move that afternoon seemed to have Ashlinn’s graceful gait injected into it, and I allowed her memory to inspire each pirouette. I was just about to take a break to get some water when my cell phone rang. I jogged up the stairs to where it was vibrating angrily on the kitchen table and answered, not even bothering to check who was on the other end.
“Hello,” I wheezed, although it sounded more like a question in my breathless, postdance state.
“I have bad news.”
It was Mother. Any bad news of hers was generally apocalyptic considering the last time I had heard those words, they were in the context of Reeves not coming out of his coma.
“What?” I asked, trying to hide the fear that had settled in my stomach.
“I have to go up to Edison. For three days.” She worked her way through the words like she was walking a tightrope.
No. No. No.
“What about my auditions? They’re tomorrow.”
She sighed.
“I have no way out of this job. It’s really important. Can’t you schedule a different date?”
“Not
Propping my tiny little screen on the bedside table, I turned the volume all the way up and grabbed some paper. My intention was to take notes on the subject as if it were an experiment, but about ten minutes in, I abandoned my notes as I had a crisis. There was a list of ways people could show affection without sex (massages, bathing, cuddles etc.) and it all sounded like more than I could ever hope for. There was an interview with one woman speaking about how she saw the beauty in others but never thought to apply the word “sexy” to any of them, and she wasn’t ashamed when she spoke of her dislike of making out.
Oh my God, that’s me.
So much of what they were saying was applying to me that I had to pause the movie and think for a bit. It seemed unfair to have to deal with more than one sexuality crisis in the span of high school.
Holy crap, could I be asexual?
For something I hadn’t even known existed before that day, it was making a big change in my view of the world. Maybe I wouldn’t ever be obligated to have sex with another person in order to make them stay with me. The thought was freeing: I wouldn’t have to pretend. It was just a matter of finding someone else who understood.
And Ashlinn is this way too.
Except it was scary. Truly, skin crawlingly scary. Things were unlikely to work out with the voyeur to dreams; I wasn’t so naive to believe otherwise. And then what? I could end up alone forever. Unloved and isolated. That wasn’t the life I wanted to lead.
This wasn’t the sexuality I wanted to have.
The documentary ended, and I felt increasingly pessimistic, then grabbed my phone and wandered downstairs to track down some late breakfast/early lunch. It was something healthy that I didn’t taste, too busy examining my desires. Would Ashlinn consider a relationship with someone like me? It seemed impossible. There’s no way such a thing could end well. Still, my mind continued to dwell on the prospect. I wanted to see her laugh so hard tears came to her eyes, to be close to her, to do the things the documentary had spoken of. Hell, I would have given an arm just for the ability to text her at that point. There was a sliver of hope, and it was more than what I’d had in the past several months.
After lunch I put on a leotard and practiced my dance. The choreography was finished, which was good, considering the audition was only one day away. Now it was just a matter of making it absolutely perfect. Those ninety seconds would dictate the course of my entire life. Every structured move that afternoon seemed to have Ashlinn’s graceful gait injected into it, and I allowed her memory to inspire each pirouette. I was just about to take a break to get some water when my cell phone rang. I jogged up the stairs to where it was vibrating angrily on the kitchen table and answered, not even bothering to check who was on the other end.
“Hello,” I wheezed, although it sounded more like a question in my breathless, postdance state.
“I have bad news.”
It was Mother. Any bad news of hers was generally apocalyptic considering the last time I had heard those words, they were in the context of Reeves not coming out of his coma.
“What?” I asked, trying to hide the fear that had settled in my stomach.
“I have to go up to Edison. For three days.” She worked her way through the words like she was walking a tightrope.
No. No. No.
“What about my auditions? They’re tomorrow.”
She sighed.
“I have no way out of this job. It’s really important. Can’t you schedule a different date?”
“Not
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