“Asexual
orientation currently estimated to describe 1 percent of the population.
Asexuality is usually defined as the experience of not being sexually attracted
to others. Less commonly, it is defined as not valuing sex or sexual attraction
enough to pursue it.”
—Julie
Sondra Decker, The Invisible Orientation.
I
My
experience was not pleasant, and I want to make that clear from the very
beginning. Throughout my youth, I had to go through a number of unpleasant,
painful, dark, and even unhealthy situations. To a large extent, these
situations were related to my sexuality, but also to many other factors.
My
intention is to recount what I experienced on an internal, individual level,
primarily, so I will try not to speak about the other people involved in the
story. Even so, I know this will be difficult. I ask only one thing of those
who read these lines: understanding. This will be a partial truth, but no less
true for that. I will speak about my feelings and also about objective facts,
but in my attempt to keep other people out of the discourse, there will
necessarily be some gaps.
I
also want to make it clear that I do not currently have any trauma, although I
did have them as a result of various situations—and not only because of “bad
sexual experiences” or anything of the sort. I did have sexual trauma, yes; but
I also had trauma from other causes. I suffered from depression several times,
post-traumatic stress, several anxiety attacks, and even mental dissociation. I
will say it plainly: I was on the edge of madness.
But
here I am. And I am doing very well.
It
is not true that I am ACE because of my trauma or because I “didn’t find the
right person.” I have been ACE my entire life. But I lived as allosexual for
many years, without knowing what was happening to me—because many things were
happening to me—and that, evidently, placed a heavy curse upon me. Therefore, I
know what I am talking about, and I do so with clarity and sincerity. I have a
broad and lucid perspective on the entire path I have traveled, thanks solely
to my continuous personal work. Nothing more.
The
only reason I am writing this story is that, despite my doubts, I want to
contribute my small experiential grain of sand to the amalgam already
circulating on the internet. I am not sure whether my particular experience is
common or not, or whether more people have gone through something similar: I
have no idea. However, the idea that my case is unique or special seems simply
absurd to me. There are many asexual people on this planet. For that reason, I
believe there may be people who recognize themselves in my situation and who
may perhaps gain some knowledge that proves useful to them.
That
said, let the descent begin.
II
Even
the first time, I felt forced. Pressured. That is the word. But not by
her—by something else. At that moment, I could not have known what it was.
Before
that, everything was fantasies and compulsions. A misunderstood arousal and,
consequently, a misdirected one. Afterwards, the compulsion transformed into
pure chaos. A dark vortex that slowly swallowed me, without my even realizing
it.
Intimate
exploration had progressed naturally, slowly becoming something habitual for
us. We had already explored our bodies. At that time, there was no sense of
appropriation.
I
felt relatively comfortable that way. I would not have taken the next step if
she had not asked for it. And when she did, I felt only one thing: fear.
It
was not the first time I had been besieged by anguish and fear in this regard.
As I remember it, from its earliest formulations, the idea of physically
intimating with another person—to its ultimate consequences—always came
accompanied by expectations.
Fulfillment.
Obligation. Duty. Those blessed and elusive expectations, with blurred
origins and ends.
But…
what did I really want?
Probably
nothing.
Because
of my empathic nature, my upbringing—or both—from a very young age I showed a
tendency to place others’ desires above my own, even to the point of
sacrificing my personal tastes and needs—and even myself, directly—if that was
necessary, always in favor of others’ satisfaction.
In
the intimate realm, it was no different.
This,
among other things, made me very dependent—at an unhealthy level—on external
validation. It would not have been a problem in a kind world; unfortunately,
that is rarely the case.
So
I ended up giving in, as in so many other things. I tried to postpone the
inevitable, as I had been doing until then, but eventually the day arrived.
The
experience was not satisfying for me at all. Her experience was prioritized,
while mine was relegated to the background. This repeated itself in subsequent
encounters and, naturally, became the norm.
It
was not that she had bad intentions—far from it—but with her attitude—already
showing dangerous signs even then—she always ended up steering every situation
onto her own terrain.
In
the first encounters, I was never comfortable. I became very nervous. I did not
really know what was expected of me. As a result, external pressures became my
guides. And she did not help either.
It
is also true that at that time I kept everything to myself out of fear of
rejection, something habitual for me.
The
point is that our intimate encounters—at least during that period—never
unfolded—or ended—in a way that was satisfying for me.
I
could say that I was not aware of what I was doing, that I acted by inertia,
pushed by too many external factors difficult to control… and that would not be
entirely false. In fact, this could be the defining sentence of a large part of
my life. However, I acknowledge that—more by instinct than by reasoning—I knew
from the very first moment that this was not for me.
As
Decker (2014) says: “asexuality is about attraction, not about willingness to
engage in sexual behavior.” And in my case, I felt no attraction of any kind
toward my partner, neither sexual nor romantic.
However,
through repetition, I developed sexual attachment, which is something very
different. I will return to this later.
At
that time, disappointment and frustration took root in me.
I
was trapped. I could not get out. I did not want to disappoint anyone… What
would they think of me?
I
felt obligated to continue what I had started. For a long time, I convinced
myself that I was doing it for her, that everything was for her sake, but… if I
am honest, I was only feeding my ego and my cowardice.
Although
I had already spent years behaving as someone I was not, at that point I
completely disconnected from reality. I began to hate myself. I could not even
look at myself in the mirror: I did not recognize myself.
I
had lost my way.
I
do not remember very well how everything evolved from that point on. I think
that, because of sexual attachment combined with my misunderstood arousal, I
came to convince myself that I “liked” sex; or perhaps I was already convinced
before. What I do remember is that my frustration—caused both by this situation
and by other personal matters—gradually turned into anger.
While
projecting my negative feelings outward, I somehow forgot myself. She became my
center, both intimately and in everything else. My enjoyment depended entirely
on hers. Although it is true that my own stimulation—except on certain
occasions—seems indifferent, absurd, and even unpleasant to me, the situation
remained unbalanced.
The
natural consequence of this was that my compulsions, obsessions, and
frustrations began to manifest more intensely and more frequently.
Sex,
paradoxically—though not so—became my greatest fixation. Now that I can analyze
it retrospectively, I realize that the compulsion was nothing more than the way
my body externalized frustration itself, along with my other emotional
deficiencies. It was an anxiety-release mechanism, as occurs, for example, in
OCD. I do not have OCD, but my behavior was clearly obsessive-compulsive, as
well as impulsive.
It
is astonishing how social conditioning—education, culture, etc.—comes to
control and direct your thoughts and behaviors. You can spend your entire life
doing things you do not want to do, being someone you are not.
Having
been born into an allosexual world, at first you are incapable of discerning
the existence of other possibilities. It is the very definition of Samsara, the
eternal wheel of rebirths: you will stumble over the same stone again and
again, until you realize your mistake… if you ever do.
In
my particular case, the truth is that I always had a very instrumental
relationship with sex, even with my own sexuality. I never asked myself what it
was for, why or for what I had to do it, or whether anything would happen if I
preferred to eat cake, for example.
These
are questions I can ask myself now, but it would not have been fair to expect a
sensitive, lonely teenager to reflect on matters that completely escaped his
notions of reality.
If
my relationship with sex has been instrumental, it is mainly because I find it
indifferent, boring, and tedious. It gives me nothing. For me, sex has no
purpose. Seeking a false purpose for it—seeing it as something teleological,
beyond the purely biological—was precisely what caused the compulsion.
Once
this erroneous conception was dismantled, all the frameworks installed in my
mind collapsed, allowing me to see and feel who I really am. Curiously,
abandoning the teleology of sex allowed me to develop a healthier, kinder
relationship with my sexuality.
This
does not imply that sex suddenly became more revealing to me. Occasionally, I
feel arousal, yes; I can also appreciate a person’s attractiveness, I
acknowledge that; in general, I am favorable to romance; but sex does not
interest me, and it rarely feels pleasant or satisfying. I allow it, if the
situation arises, and I do not judge myself for it—but nothing more.
This
has been the case since before my relationship; I simply had not had the
opportunity to stop and analyze it properly. I have no pathology. I simply do
not need sex in my life, and I do not feel bad about it. I prefer my
relationships to be based on mutual respect, understanding, and deep emotional
and mental connection—and even beyond that. As I develop in my articles on
Post-Sexuality and ACE representation in cinema, my nerdy—and not so
nerdy—dream would be to synchronize my ghost with another person’s, as
in the Ghost in the Shell saga.
Unfortunately,
it would take several more years of a torturous relationship for me to reach
this point. When I realized I had fallen into a black hole, it was already too
late.
As
I said before, I will not speak in detail about her; it suffices to know that,
sadly, she chose to become a vortex of ruin, both for herself and for me. Being
with someone like that, obviously, destroyed me. The relationship became a
delirious nightmare in which, once again, sex—the last unbreakable
link—persisted pathologically, almost cruelly.
She
used sex in a toxic way; I used it—instrumentally—to try to hold the
relationship together, with all the consequences that entailed for me.
Essentially, I was repeatedly self-destructing out of sheer desperation.
Evidently, I was traumatized, as I said at the beginning.
However,
this unsustainable situation could not last forever; nor could my erroneous
conceptions.
At
a certain point, I even began to realize that I felt uncomfortable seeing
people sexualizing themselves—or others—in music videos. I simply wanted to
listen to music or watch a videoclip, not gratuitous sex. My partner did not
share my opinion—in fact, she was perfectly fine with it—and this brought us
more than one argument.
As
a result of this, I realized that advertising and, in general, any act of
sexualization or sexual gratuitousness in people felt uncomfortable and even
unpleasant to me. In cinema or television—or in any artistic medium—this does
not usually happen to me as often, as long as the scene makes sense within the
script or the overall composition of the work.
Personally,
I believe it is humiliating to reduce a person’s body to a mere sexual object.
I think human beings are much more than that: sex is not the center of
anything, nor does it have to be.
III
I
have mentioned arousal and sexual attachment several times. I think this point
needs clarification, because it is very easy to get confused. I suspect many
people misunderstand—or are unaware of—these terms, as I was.
“Some
people misinterpret aesthetic appreciation, romantic attraction, or sexual
arousal as being sexual attraction, only to realize later that they are asexual.”
(Decker, 2014).
That
is exactly what happened to me.
“Sexual desire, often referred to as libido or sex drive, is the
subjective experience of wanting or craving sexual activity. It is a
psychological phenomenon influenced by a combination of biological,
psychological, and sociocultural factors. Sexual desire can vary in intensity
and may be directed toward a specific individual (partnered desire) or a
broader range of potential partners (non-partnered desire).
“On
the other hand, sexual arousal refers to the physiological and
psychological responses that occur when a person becomes sexually stimulated.
These responses may include increased heart rate, blood flow to the genitals,
genital lubrication, and penile erection. Sexual arousal is often considered a
precursor to sexual activity and is closely linked to sexual desire. There may
also be a higher degree of sensitivity in other areas of our bodies.” (Cordero,2025)
These terms are often mixed up and confused. The main problem is that the definitions are not clear and, in some cases, can even be confusing or outright incorrect, because many people conflate them, misunderstand them, or misinterpret them—including experienced ACE people.
It is essential, first of all, to become aware that we may be using inappropriate language—in our case, allosexual language—to define these terms or even ACE labels themselves.
In short:
- Sexual arousal refers to the set of automatic physiological reactions, with no defined direction or cause, and with variable frequency and intensity.
- Sexual desire is the intentionality or impulse to engage in sexual activity, either with oneself or with another person (although it is sometimes defined in other ways, such as the frequency or intensity of arousal, which is imprecise). Desire appears after arousal.
- And finally, sexual attraction is the focus or direction of desire: the concreteness of desire toward a specific person who sparks interest or with whom one wants to engage in sexual activity.
Sexual
attachment, on the other hand, can be defined as the development
or strengthening of a bond between two people after sexual activity, caused,
among other things, by hormonal interaction and the neurological and
psychological adjustments this entails. Sexual attachment will strengthen if
the experience is repeated between the same people and, to some extent, will
create emotional dependency.
That
is to say an asexual person could develop sexual attachment toward
their partner—if they have sex recurrently, of course—despite having no attraction, no sexual
desire or even no sexual arousal.
In
my particular case, as I have already mentioned, I do experience sexual arousal
occasionally; but once out of the relationship, I realized that my sexual desire and my "sexual attraction", upon returning to their natural state, so to speak, became practically nonexistent or diffuse.
For
quite a while, this left me rather confused, because I did not understand how I
could have felt something like that and then no longer feel it. So I began to
ask myself something: before my relationship, despite having uncontrolled
arousal due to adolescent hormones and despite there being girls I liked… had I
really felt sexual desire or attraction for any of them?
My
only answer was: I do not know.
I
could not give a categorical no. But I could not affirm it with certainty
either, especially from my current standpoint.
On the other hand, I realized that every time I had fallen in love with someone throughout my life, I had not necessarily felt anything sexual for that person. In fact, this was confirmed by an experience I had some time after ending my relationship: I fell very intensely in love with a girl, but I felt absolutely nothing sexual for her. It was love; not sexual attraction or sexual desire. Just what had happened to me before I got involved in my relationship.
After
much thought, the only thing I could be sure of was that I had developed an
unhealthy and pathological sexual attachment and dependency toward my ex-partner.
This surprised me, because, as I said before, at the beginning of the
relationship she did not attract me. It was later, after sex, that I began to
“feel” something for her.
My
only possible conclusion is that I completely confused my natural
sexual arousal with toxic sexual attachment, even convincing myself that it was
love…
But
what I felt was not love.
IV
As
I anticipated, after a long series of unhealthy and painful experiences, I
decided to end the relationship for my own good, as my physical and mental
health were being seriously harmed.
Once
free, my mental implants continued to manifest and control me to a large extent
during the following years. Therefore, I was not truly free yet.
On
the one hand, I temporarily developed a certain aversion to sex, caused in this
case by my experiences—as I have said, I overcame this. On the other hand, at
the same time—and with evident correlation—my relationship with sex and my
sexuality became even more instrumental, almost mechanical.
Here
I am referring mainly to solo-sex practices, since, given my personal nature,
it is impossible for me to physically intimate with strangers. Following my
conditioning, I tried several times…
On
every occasion, the result was the same: total failure.
The
dantesque story of an incredible ACE trying to be allosexual at all costs.
These
strange encounters through dating apps, contrary to what one might think,
helped me realize—almost by force—that this was certainly not my path.
Most of the evenings were unpleasant. The last one, curiously, was not.
The
girl, who was very kind, realized that something was wrong with me—I wanted the
ground to swallow me whole, literally—and by mutual agreement, instead of sex,
we had a long conversation in which we shared impressions. It was exactly what
I needed.
It
was very gratifying, really. That evening, however infrequent and strange it
may have been, left me with a good feeling. I confirmed things I already knew,
began to question others, and above all, relieved myself of a great deal of
pressure.
From
that point on, thanks to my continuous personal work, I began to assimilate
that, as had already become more than evident, something was not right with me
on a sexual level.
Rigorous
and continuous meditation was of great help in dismantling all the constructs
that had nested in my brain for more than two decades, as well as in developing
the impartial vision that allowed me to see things clearly. It was two years of
constant work.
Finally,
I realized something fundamental: sex does not interest me at all.
Spoiler.
V
I
want to make another brief aside, as an argument against all the know-it-alls
and “experts” who use evolution, natural selection, or sexual selection to
discredit the lived experiences of asexual people.
Just
two things.
First:
I am an evolutionary anthropologist, so I know what I am talking about.
Second:
if something exists, it is precisely because natural selection has allowed it
to exist, which means it is not a disadvantage for survival nor necessarily a
pathology.
It
is scientifically proven that homosexuality and bisexuality have a biological
basis and function in favor of the species’ survival. The same can be said of
asexuality.
By
definition, human beings are a hypersocial, cooperative, and altruistic
species; but not only that—we are also a sociosexual species. That is, we use
our sexuality to socialize and create bonds, not only to reproduce. Bonobos and
other primates do the same.
This
means that ACE people, based on our sexual orientation, socialize in one way,
while allosexual people do so in another. That is all. And it is still
sociosexual behavior.
Moreover,
the fact that a person does not have sexual desire or does not want to have sex
does not necessarily imply that they are sexually dysfunctional or that others
cannot find them attractive. There are ACE people who have children, yet sex
does not become more interesting or enjoyable for them.
In
any case, it is evident that asexuality is an evolutionary advantage, since, in
the absence of absurd distractions, we can devote our time to more interesting
things—such as conquering the world, for example.
VI
I must say that the ACE community is very pleasant and friendly. From
the very beginning, even without anyone telling me anything in particular, I
felt embraced and accepted. I had never felt that I belonged to any community.
It was natural resonance.
Despite everything, the malevolent triad of arousal–desire–attraction kept giving me a headache for quite some time. Provisionally, I identified as Aceflexible and later as Gray-ACE. However, something still didn’t quite add up.
To break out of the loop of intellectual overthinking, definitions, and labels, I decided to write a list of statements and reflections about my feelings and sensations related to sex (something I would recommend to everyone—especially those who feel confused or uncertain). In doing so, I realized that my problem was not one of identity, but of terminology.
I asked myself the following question:
Is feeling mild, automatic arousal—mixed with discomfort and a certain degree of anxiety—when seeing or perceiving specific sexual traits or characteristics in other people… the same as feeling sexual attraction?
And the honest answer is NO.
At first, I thought this question involved too much dissociation, that I was overcomplicating things. But I soon realized that, as I mentioned earlier, the real issue was that I was trying to define my sensations using typically allosexual terminology: “if I feel something physical when looking at a person, it must be sexual attraction…”
But that is not the case.
What I experience is a kind of diffuse, impersonal "attraction": certain traits in people automatically activate my body—producing discomfort and a vague sense of anxiety at the same time—but people themselves do not interest me sexually.
In my case, arousal, desire, and attraction are naturally and completely dissociated from one another. This, combined with a clear lack of adequate terminology, was confusing me and even leading me to doubt myself.
But the situation is actually very clear:
- I do not want to have sex with anyone.
- I do not want to have sex with myself. Sometimes I do it only to make my body stop bothering me.
- Sexual acts give me nothing. In general, they feel indifferent or even aversive to me, as I do not particularly enjoy the physical sensations they produce. It simply isn’t worth it.
- Sex interests me on an intellectual level, as an anthropological phenomenon, but not as something I personally want to include in my life—not even in my romantic life.
- Whenever I have fallen in love, it has been romantically, not sexually.
When framed using allosexual labels, my experience seemed to overlap with graysexuality and even demisexuality. As I mentioned before, I used to identify as Aceflexible or Gray-ACE. However, this never truly fit me.
I am asexual. Sometimes I identify that way, or simply as ACE. And I am very proud of it. I feel as though an enormous weight has been lifted off my shoulders.
Quite
simply, I do not have to do things I do not want to do.
Signature:
Sangue Shi
Editor-in-Chief of Loto Negro Magazine
www.lotonegrorevista.blogspot.com
Editor-in-Chief of Sangue Shi Ediciones
www.sangueshiediciones.blogspot.com
Sangue Shi
Editor-in-Chief of Loto Negro Magazine
www.lotonegrorevista.blogspot.com
Editor-in-Chief of Sangue Shi Ediciones
www.sangueshiediciones.blogspot.com
Administrator of ACE Post-Sexuality
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