Surviving on a spectrum society still doesn’t know how to read I don’t know when the first asexual person appeared on the face of the Earth, and I’m not about to get archaeological about it. What I do know is when the first asexual person appeared inside me: the day I discovered that what I felt — or rather, what I didn’t feel — had a name. And that day, something fell into place. Like finally finding the exact word you’d had on the tip of your tongue for years. Because let’s be honest: society has a very clear goal for any interaction with romantic potential, and that goal is called “the bedroom.” You’re sold the idea that sex is the ultimate validation, the deepest connection two people can achieve, the final exam of attraction. You like someone? Great, now sleep with them to find out. And honestly, that logic never made sense to me. Not because I never tried — I have, I’ve had sex — but because, once the experiment was over, the revelation never came. I never felt the cosmic...
Una mirada profunda a la humanidad