Heterosexual in Waiting: In the Closet
Title: Part 7: In the closet
Series: Heterosexual in Waiting
Too much education can be a bad thing. I went swing dancing one night, and I met this guy. He was nice and we set up a date. We walked, we talked, we went back to his place, and he started kissing me. Then he started feeling me up. I pushed his hand out from under my shirt, which signaled to him that I wanted it between my legs instead.
“To fast,” I said, struggling to disentangle myself and flee as fast as humanly possible. I wondered if he was cuing off of me and if my knowledge of erotica had set me on that path from innocent first date to sex on the first date. I was responding to his touch intellectually based on things that I had read, not instinctually based on desire. I waited too long to say no, but I still felt ashamed because of my inexperience. Given everything I had learned about sex, I thought I would have loosened up a little and been more open to sex, but I was thirty-two and freaked out by second base.
I have no sexual desire. I have no desire to date, to have sex, or to be married. The only reason I had agreed to this date was because I felt pressure from my family to “find someone and settle down.” I had a stable job and I wasn’t going to be moving state to state anymore (hopefully), so I was in an ideal place to start a relationship. I knew several nice, single guys, so I had options. I just didn’t want any of them. My sister kept trying to push me toward one guy in particular, saying I should scoop him up before some other girl did. She didn’t understand why I resisted. Then one day, she popped the question:
Elle (name changed), was a friend of mine from the previous state that I had been living in. We were both alone there, and had adopted each other, so I considered her a sister. I had told Elle I thought I was asexual a few months before while she was rhapsodizing about a guy that she wanted to notice her. Elle didn’t think my announcement was anything more noteworthy than ‘I had a bagel for breakfast,’ and I didn’t either. She knew who I was without the label.
When I got my sister’s e-mail, I was shocked. She thought it was obvious that I was gay! I laughed and told Elle, who laughed with me. Then I realized I had the best sister ever, and this e-mail was a sweet (and probably scary) thing to write. Given our conservative Christian family, and knowing the judgment I’d face if I ever came out as gay, my sister was telling me that she loved me and accepted me no matter what. You can’t ask for a better sister than that!
I told my sister that I was “starting to consider myself asexual.” I was cautious about coming out and saying that I was. To her, the implications would be more serious than ‘I had a bagel for breakfast.’
I had been on a family reunion cruise the month before and when my grandparents mentioned (jokingly) that there was a singles meet-up the first night, I said “Just because I am single does not mean I’m available.” I announced my intention not to marry or have kids, and my grandmother looked like she’d been kicked in the gut. She asked me to keep my options open… to remain a heterosexual in waiting.
Then one night, I was thinking about my sister’s e-mail and the conversation it had sparked about why I appear gay. I have gay friends, and when I see them treated unfairly, I become a closet gay activist. I remembered being at this conference a few years back and one of my friends went to an LGBT support group, where he met his current boyfriend. I knew there were asexual groups, too. I didn’t really like the idea of needing a support group, but I thought it might be nice to have friends that I could hug without worrying about giving them the wrong idea.
I went to meetup.com, which has been my go-to sight for finding friends in the last three states I’ve lived in. Usually I look for Star Trek fans or writers. This time, I looked for Asexuals and found a group that met nearby.
I hedged.
I didn’t want to need support. What if I wasn’t asexual? Asexual was a word I used to explain why I wasn’t interested in relationships. All of my upbringing and education to that point told me that asexuality did not exist, and I was a heterosexual in waiting.
I clicked the button to join the group.
The paradigm shift was rapid and scary. Here I was, announcing to anyone on the internet who dared to look at this site that I was (or might be) asexual. I went immediately to my account settings and adjusted the privacy, so no one could see that I had joined this group. I needed to go to a meet-up. I needed to see if these people actually understood what it was like to be me. I needed to see if their experiences matched mine.
I tried to go on with my evening, but I kept dwelling on the revelation.
I am asexual.
A light had come on; I looked around at my new world, and realized I was in a closet!
When the world looks at a single girl, they assume she is a heterosexual in waiting. It’s okay if you don’t want marriage or kids, but it’s assumed that you’re at least sexual. As an asexual, I am in a closet, and I have to figure out how and when to come out.
For the first night, it was enough that I was finally out to myself. I stayed up, pondering my new perspective on the world. I dared to look at my past relationships-something I usually refused to let myself do, because I’d just wind up crying and dwelling on things I could not change. I had learned from my past relationships, and nothing positive could be gained from thinking about them again. Right? As a heterosexual in waiting, I was miserable, immature, and a failure at relationships. I needed someone who would take things very slow, and it was becoming increasingly clear that that man did not exist.
In the asexual paradigm, I could understand those experiences in a new way. I didn’t carry the same blame. I had unwittingly entered a mixed relationship. I was an asexual who was convinced I was sexual-an American girl eating Chinese candy that did not taste like candy. I was lost in a country where I didn’t speak the language or know the culture. It doesn’t hurt as much to look back now, because I understand what went wrong, and I am protected by the strength that comes from finally knowing who and what I am.
I am asexual.
*~*
Part 1: That Ain't Candy * Part 2: The Heterosexual Paradigm * Part 3: Clueless * Part 4: Learning to Fear * Part 5: What's Wrong with a Kiss? * Part 6: Discovering Erotica * Part 7: In the Closet
Series: Heterosexual in Waiting
Too much education can be a bad thing. I went swing dancing one night, and I met this guy. He was nice and we set up a date. We walked, we talked, we went back to his place, and he started kissing me. Then he started feeling me up. I pushed his hand out from under my shirt, which signaled to him that I wanted it between my legs instead.
“To fast,” I said, struggling to disentangle myself and flee as fast as humanly possible. I wondered if he was cuing off of me and if my knowledge of erotica had set me on that path from innocent first date to sex on the first date. I was responding to his touch intellectually based on things that I had read, not instinctually based on desire. I waited too long to say no, but I still felt ashamed because of my inexperience. Given everything I had learned about sex, I thought I would have loosened up a little and been more open to sex, but I was thirty-two and freaked out by second base.
I have no sexual desire. I have no desire to date, to have sex, or to be married. The only reason I had agreed to this date was because I felt pressure from my family to “find someone and settle down.” I had a stable job and I wasn’t going to be moving state to state anymore (hopefully), so I was in an ideal place to start a relationship. I knew several nice, single guys, so I had options. I just didn’t want any of them. My sister kept trying to push me toward one guy in particular, saying I should scoop him up before some other girl did. She didn’t understand why I resisted. Then one day, she popped the question:
- Were you and Elle dating? If you are gay, that is fine with me, I’d just like for you to tell me! Honestly, it has seemed kind of obvious to me for a long time…
Elle (name changed), was a friend of mine from the previous state that I had been living in. We were both alone there, and had adopted each other, so I considered her a sister. I had told Elle I thought I was asexual a few months before while she was rhapsodizing about a guy that she wanted to notice her. Elle didn’t think my announcement was anything more noteworthy than ‘I had a bagel for breakfast,’ and I didn’t either. She knew who I was without the label.
When I got my sister’s e-mail, I was shocked. She thought it was obvious that I was gay! I laughed and told Elle, who laughed with me. Then I realized I had the best sister ever, and this e-mail was a sweet (and probably scary) thing to write. Given our conservative Christian family, and knowing the judgment I’d face if I ever came out as gay, my sister was telling me that she loved me and accepted me no matter what. You can’t ask for a better sister than that!
I told my sister that I was “starting to consider myself asexual.” I was cautious about coming out and saying that I was. To her, the implications would be more serious than ‘I had a bagel for breakfast.’
I had been on a family reunion cruise the month before and when my grandparents mentioned (jokingly) that there was a singles meet-up the first night, I said “Just because I am single does not mean I’m available.” I announced my intention not to marry or have kids, and my grandmother looked like she’d been kicked in the gut. She asked me to keep my options open… to remain a heterosexual in waiting.
Then one night, I was thinking about my sister’s e-mail and the conversation it had sparked about why I appear gay. I have gay friends, and when I see them treated unfairly, I become a closet gay activist. I remembered being at this conference a few years back and one of my friends went to an LGBT support group, where he met his current boyfriend. I knew there were asexual groups, too. I didn’t really like the idea of needing a support group, but I thought it might be nice to have friends that I could hug without worrying about giving them the wrong idea.
I went to meetup.com, which has been my go-to sight for finding friends in the last three states I’ve lived in. Usually I look for Star Trek fans or writers. This time, I looked for Asexuals and found a group that met nearby.
I hedged.
I didn’t want to need support. What if I wasn’t asexual? Asexual was a word I used to explain why I wasn’t interested in relationships. All of my upbringing and education to that point told me that asexuality did not exist, and I was a heterosexual in waiting.
I clicked the button to join the group.
The paradigm shift was rapid and scary. Here I was, announcing to anyone on the internet who dared to look at this site that I was (or might be) asexual. I went immediately to my account settings and adjusted the privacy, so no one could see that I had joined this group. I needed to go to a meet-up. I needed to see if these people actually understood what it was like to be me. I needed to see if their experiences matched mine.
I tried to go on with my evening, but I kept dwelling on the revelation.
I am asexual.
A light had come on; I looked around at my new world, and realized I was in a closet!
When the world looks at a single girl, they assume she is a heterosexual in waiting. It’s okay if you don’t want marriage or kids, but it’s assumed that you’re at least sexual. As an asexual, I am in a closet, and I have to figure out how and when to come out.
For the first night, it was enough that I was finally out to myself. I stayed up, pondering my new perspective on the world. I dared to look at my past relationships-something I usually refused to let myself do, because I’d just wind up crying and dwelling on things I could not change. I had learned from my past relationships, and nothing positive could be gained from thinking about them again. Right? As a heterosexual in waiting, I was miserable, immature, and a failure at relationships. I needed someone who would take things very slow, and it was becoming increasingly clear that that man did not exist.
In the asexual paradigm, I could understand those experiences in a new way. I didn’t carry the same blame. I had unwittingly entered a mixed relationship. I was an asexual who was convinced I was sexual-an American girl eating Chinese candy that did not taste like candy. I was lost in a country where I didn’t speak the language or know the culture. It doesn’t hurt as much to look back now, because I understand what went wrong, and I am protected by the strength that comes from finally knowing who and what I am.
I am asexual.
*~*
Part 1: That Ain't Candy * Part 2: The Heterosexual Paradigm * Part 3: Clueless * Part 4: Learning to Fear * Part 5: What's Wrong with a Kiss? * Part 6: Discovering Erotica * Part 7: In the Closet