Exploring Demisexual Joy This Pride Month
Learning to love my complicated attraction history
Welcome to Pride Month! It’s my first as an out aspec man. I have to be honest, it feels a little odd. This time last year I was sharing the shit out of my LGBT friends’ books and generally supporting them in any other way I could. But now, here, having always been one of them and not realising it still doesn’t feel real.
So far I’ve written three types of articles on my demisexuality:
- The guilt and the feeling of not belonging, of being not quite queer yet not quite straight
- Defensively, challenging misconceptions about demisexuality. It’s got through to some people, so this is a win
- Personal journeys, looking back at past experiences when I should have known I wasn’t like other straight guys
I’ve already done an article on the downsides of demisexuality — an article I found emotionally exhausting to write. But there is also joy in the demisexual experience. So, for the first time, I’m going to lay out what I love about being demi.
I see people for who they really are
I’m never persuaded by a pretty face or a good body. Those things are nice to look at, but that’s where it stops. Being demisexual means I’m never going to end up in a mismatched relationship because the woman I’m with is “hot” (whatever that means) and I can show her off to other guys as proof of my virility.
Much of this discourse about being with the “hottest” woman feels like it’s all about conquest or winning a race.
That doesn’t interest me. Why? Because demisexuals aren’t attracted to bodies, but to the person, and to how they make us feel. If I get a bad vibe from a woman, no matter how attractive she is, I will lose interest and often very quickly.
I’ve heard some men say women they dated put on an act until they’re committed, and then they change (I’ve heard some straight women say this about men they’ve dated too). I don’t mean settling into the relationship and getting comfortable away from the bravado of impressing each other. No, I mean pretending to be someone they’re not and turning out to be a deeply horrible person. I’m immune to that too.
I don’t have to pretend to be someone else
I separated from my ex-wife in late 2011; our divorce finalised in early 2013. By summer 2012, I felt just about ready to date again. In that time I think I went on dates with about twenty different women, some of which ended at one date, while a handful went on to two or three dates.
I got a sense from some of those women that they were expecting me to play up to their expectations of what they expected in a man. It was clear one of these wanted an “alpha male” type. She wasn't the only one, and she wasn’t the only person to have a list of expectations that I was never going to contort myself to fit into just for regular sex.
In the end, I found my person.
I’m not led by my libido
Allosexuals make bad decisions from which I feel pretty much immune.
“We got drunk and started fooling around. Now I’m a parent with someone I barely known because we didn’t use protection. Whoops!”
“We had an argument and I needed someone, so I fucked his best friend. Whoops!”
“Let’s be honest, any man who has a woman throwing herself at him like that is going to take the opportunity for free sex. I just hope my wife doesn’t find out. Whoops!”
These “whoops” moments have never happened to me, and I’ve never been tempted on those rare occasions they have presented themselves. This isn’t about making the right choice, but that the urges are never there to act on in the first place.
Also, I’m immune to romance scammers and porn bots.
I’d rather be alone than in a relationship with someone I don’t like for the sake of being coupled
I’m amazed how often I see grown adults leaping out of one relationship and straight into another. They’ll talk about their harrowing break up one week, how they’ve lost the love of their life, how their life will never be the same again, how they cry and cry and cry and cry and cry.
… And then two weeks later they have another #MyWorld #LoveOfMyLife.
And there’s this constant pressure from friends, family, and society. Offers of blind dates based purely on age closeness and availability are offered to all single friends within shouting distance.
Sometimes well meaning, they are often more about the desire of others to see their friends coupled up than any genuine analysis that those two people might be compatible.
If you haven’t seen the film The Lobster, I strongly recommend it as it shows what a dystopian society might look like where being in a relationship is strictly enforced by the state. There is a lot of absurdity and satire, but as the saying goes “many a true word spoken in jest.”
While the process of dating frustrated me at times, and while I did have moments of loneliness where I felt unlovable, I was never going to be with someone who wouldn’t be right for me just so I didn’t have to be alone.
Friendships with women are genuine
I’ve been honest and open that all my crushes as an adult have been on friends. All of them. I never understood it before, but now I accept it as part of my demisexuality. There is a much higher chance of me developing feelings for women I’m friends with, but it doesn’t automatically follow.
It’s a double-edged sword for me but one with more positives than negatives. I can honestly put my hand on my heart and say it was never my intention and that when I become friends with a woman, my intentions always remain committed to the friendship.
I have always had close platonic friendships with women, and they’ve nearly always been rewarding. Even those that turned sour (some have ended friendships for reasons I still don’t understand) they all shaped who I am and I look back on them with fondness.
I’m not a Medium member, so all my stuff here is free to read. If you enjoy reading about my demisexual journey, please consider tipping me on my Buy Me A Coffee page.
More articles on my personal demisexuality discovery journey:
