The Complicated Lives of College Asexuals
Within the hypersexual atmosphere at the University of California Santa Cruz, a small minority of “asexual” students struggle to balance their desires for acceptance and partnership with their indifference towards sexual contact.
The Journal of Sex research defines Asexuality as a sexual orientation characterized by a lack of sexual attraction to others, or absent interest or desire for sexual activity. Asexuals sometimes refer to themselves by the nickname “Aces.” Researchers estimate that asexuality has a one percent prevalence in the human population, and an estimated 2–3 percent prevalence among livestock (according to a report from the Idaho based U.S. Sheep Experiment Station).
According to these estimates, there should be between 180–190 asexual students at UC Santa Cruz (as well as an untold number of asexual cows living on campus). Here are some of their stories.
“Sex for me is just lying on a bed and faking that I like it, the only part I enjoy is the attention.” - Nikki, 19
Nikki, a second-year anthropology student at UCSC first realized she was different in high school. “I just thought I was lagging behind everyone in terms of sexual attraction,” she recounts, “I couldn’t relate to the sexual feelings and experiences my friends talked about.” After struggling with her identity for years, Nikki discovered Asexuality on the internet at age 16, “I was comforted to know that there was a word describing what I am,” she tells me.
“I am not repulsed by sex,” says Nikki, “it’s just not something I actively want. I am fine with it, but I would be happy in an intimate relationship without sex.” However many of the men who she seeks intimacy from are less willing to engage in a celibate partnership. Nikki learned this lesson the hard way a few years ago, “When I was back in high school, I began an intimate relationship with one of my friends. He wanted sex, but I wasn’t ready. He ended up cheating on me,” she recalls with a pained expression on her face. “To make matters worse,” Nikki adds, “the psycho bitch he cheated with published a poem about me online called the ‘Other girl.’”
“I never thought I would have any sex in college,” Nikki tells me, “but then I fell in love with an awkward computer science major,” who she describes in depth as “someone with a lot of social learning to do.” Nikki continues, “ I had the fear instilled in me that he would leave me if I didn’t sleep with him. He acted really nice and said he loved me to get in my pants. I decided to lie and said I wanted to have sex with him. Once he got what he wanted, he told me that he fell out of love.” “It wasn’t fair!” she adds, “I gave him everything.”
After these painful experiences, Nikki changed her dating strategy. “More recently I have had male friends with benefits. Sex with them is just lying in bed and faking that I like it. Sometimes I get bored and zone out, the only part I really enjoy is the attention. I know that disclosing my asexuality to them would be a deal breaker,” she says.
Nikki conceals her asexual orientation around most of her acquaintances as well, believing that asexuals face discrimination. “Some of us identify as part of the LGBT community, but many of them don’t understand us, and some doubt the validity of our experience,” she says. Nikki continues, “Certain members of the LGBT community also try to distance themselves from us because some of us seek non-sexual heteronormative relationships.” Nikki also feels that asexuals are stigmatized among the general population as well, “there is a widespread stereotype that we must have been traumatized, or had some sort of abuse in our past. I don’t know if there is any truth to that stereotype, but it’s not true in my case.”
“My Dad says I am going to die a virgin spinster and never give him grandchildren.” -Abby, 19
“I identify as demi-sexual,” says Abby, a sophomore at UC Santa Cruz. “Demi-sexuality is a grey area on the asexuality spectrum,” she explains, “Demi-sexuals need powerful emotional connections to feel sexual feelings towards people. It complicates relationships.” Abby says that she discovered her demi-sexuality after reading a Cosmo article. I ask Abby how her asexual identity is different from the scores of heterosexuals, homosexuals, and bisexuals who need emotional intimacy for sex. Abby asserts that demi-sexuality is “different and real.” “This isn’t a choice,” she tells me, I don’t wish I could change it. I would date a guy who couldn’t physically have sex with me.”
“I wouldn’t say asexuality has affected my own life that much. In terms of being in college and being in a dating scene, I have actually met a few people. If I was on a date with someone or in a conversation. It’s something that is important.” Unlike Nikki, Abby is a virgin who finds casual sex “repulsive.” “In college, there is a big ‘hookup culture,’ I just can’t see myself in that situation.” Abby also feels that her identity has led to some “bad experiences on Tinder.” “I matched with a guy who’s opening pick- up line was a joke about shooting up the school, he later took a dig at my asexuality.”
Abby’s parents are among those skeptical of her demi-sexuality. Telling my parents was interesting, my Mom said “sweety you are overthinking way too much, you are straight. My dad says I am going to die a virgin spinster and never give him grandchildren.”
“The closest thing to a sexual relationship I have ever had was being persistently hit on by my co-worker at Burger King” -Amanda, 21
Amanda, a 21-year-old junior at UCSC, first realized she was asexual at age 19. She also believes that she is on the aromantic spectrum. “I just simply never found dating appealing, and if I did get a crush, it would never go past that. It was just some odd feeling that I wasn’t really into romance.” “I wouldn’t mind if a relationship were in my future, but I am not actively seeking one.” Amanda, who is a virgin, describes the closest experience she has had to a relationship as “being hit on by my [much older] co-worker at Burger King.”
In general, Amanda feels comfortable with her sexual identity, “I feel pretty good about my asexuality,” she tells me. Amanda also says that her “family knows” and that they are “very supportive.” “My mom will occasionally check in to see if I’m into anyone,” she tells me. Amanda also has a variety of hobbies which she spends hours on, including knitting and writing movie reviews on her blog.
“There are times where it gets a bit frustrating to explain [my sexuality] and people just don’t get it,” Amanda tells me. However, she concedes, “I understand it is very complex and there are multiple unique experiences in asexuality and aromanticism.” Amanda adds that she “has definitely noticed some ignorance” surrounding her identity, but doesn’t think that “discrimination or oppression are necessarily the right words” to label this.
Amanda explains, “I think the most frustrating part is the occasional, ‘Why are you so worried about labels’, and labels do help. It’s much easier to have one word explain my sexuality than go on, say, a five paragraph essay. And if I knew what asexuality was when I was younger, it would’ve saved me some confusion growing up.”
