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What It's Like To Date As An Asexual

Photo: Thinkstock.
Photo: Thinkstock.

A colleague reminded me it was International Steak and BJ day last week, telling me to "make sure you treat your man right tonight."

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I cringed. Not because I was just sexually harassed in the workplace, but because I was mortified someone was so flippant about something so personal, and BJs weren't really my thing.

On date night you'd find my boyfriend and I cuddled up on the couch watching a movie, playing board games or out for dinner. Sex, or foreplay for that matter, isn't even on the radar.

Finding a compatible partner has been an ongoing source of anxiety for most of my adult life. And the struggle to date while having zero sex drive makes the whole "swipe right" thing on Tinder almost pointless.

What's the point of a 34-year-old asexual woman on a hookup app, when she's not there for cheap one-nighters? I asked myself this every day, and can't even count the number of times I've deleted my profile after yet another bad date, only to reactivate it weeks later during a moment of loneliness.

But the disappointment began long before the world of internet dating. I've never had a problem catching the attention of men, and I enjoy the dating experience, but the thought of what comes at the end of the night terrified me.

There's so much misconception about what it means to be asexual, or "ace" as some of us prefer to call ourselves. And there's a wide spectrum of what level relates to each individual.

For myself, I've always known I was a heterosexual woman, attracted to men. Since puberty I've always crushed on the opposite sex and found boys (and now men) aesthetically pleasing. I've wanted to kiss them and be around them, but anything more always felt like an obligation. I'm not into porn and I feel icky at the thought of masturbation, let alone a stranger being inside me.

I would meet someone I'd be interested in getting to know and agree to go out on a date with them. But at the end of the evening I'd never ask them inside, or I'd make up an excuse as to why I couldn't come home with them. The idea of being intimate with a stranger made me feel ill.

It was the same story every time. I would go out with a guy a few times and they would lose interest when they failed to get into my pants, and after a few dates I wouldn't hear from them again. It wasn't because I wasn't into the guy, some I genuinely liked. It was more that I wasn't keen on getting naked with someone I hardly knew. In fact, the idea of it made my skin crawl.

In my 20s I was more insecure, like most young women, so I felt I needed to put out to get a man to like me. With so many of my partners it took me a while to realise I was just going though the motions and wasn't really into it. And the men I shared my bed with weren't up for a relationship anyway.

At one point I made a promise to myself that I wouldn't do it anymore. I would no longer give myself to a man just because I felt we had been dating long enough and "owed it to him".

One man told me I was a tease. Another said he wasn't looking for a relationship. Another assumed I wasn't that interested. But most of them never called or texted again.

Date after date, with men I enjoyed the experience of going to the movies with, dinners, drinks, sometimes even kissing, I just didn't want to take things further physically. So as I entered my thirties I felt like there was something wrong with me. I felt damaged.

Why did I feel grossed out about the act that's in our faces 24/7 - in songs, TV shows, movies, and discussed so flippantly? It's a normal part of life to everyone else, so why does the idea of sex seem so gross to me?

About two years ago I read an article on asexuality and it struck a chord. I did some research and came across The Asexual Visibility and Education Network (AVEN) - the largest worldwide asexual online community - and followed social media support pages for people like me. For the first time I learned I wasn't alone and there was nothing wrong with me.

But the questions still plagued me: How could I ever expect someone to love me if sex wasn't to be a staple of our relationship? What happens if I meet someone I really like and he leaves because I can't give him what he needs physically? Will I be lonely my whole life?

These were questions I asked myself every day. That is until I met *Blake four months ago and he changed everything.

I felt attracted to Blake from the moment we met. He was kind, patient, funny, smart and handsome.

We played Scrabble on our first date, then enjoyed a nice dinner on the second. I asked him over to watch a movie on the third, and he kissed me goodbye and went home afterwards. I was so relieved there wasn't any awkward pressure.

I haven't yet figured out if Blake is also on the asexual spectrum or if he just has an incredibly low sex drive - he probably doesn't even release himself. But either way it works for me.

Initially I was worried he wasn't attracted to me, but those doubts soon disappeared when I realised we do share intimacy, it's just in our own way through cuddling, kissing, holding hands, and spooning.

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I don't feel like we're missing out and he doesn't pressure me to do anything I'm not comfortable with.

But most of all, I've learned I am not broken.