Almost-Sexual Frustration

Excerpt: As the title suggests, I have been feeling increasingly frustrated for the lack of physical contact with any other human being. Not sexual contact, but intimate contact: kissing, spooning, hearing someone else’s heart beat, feeling their skin beneath my nails, and pretty much anything that, according to popular ideas, is supposed to lead up to sex. Hell, I wouldn’t even really mind having sex, though it’s the part that comes before that I truly enjoy. Among asexuals, I seem to have a pretty broad view of what borderline acts are acceptable and enjoyable. This is why I sometimes call myself and almost-sexual, because if the definition of sexuality were broadened enough to include them, I might be able to identify as a sexual person. Although I still doubt whether even under the ideal circumstances, it would ever occur to me to initiate sex as it’s usually defined (i.e. intercourse, oral, manual). Point is, I still have a drive to be physically intimate with people even if I couldn’t care less about actually having sex with them. The only word I have to describe my feelings when that drive is frustrated is “sexual frustration” but it’s not quite that.
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I have a hard time with sincerity. Not with being sincere, myself–that’s easy. More with determining whether other people are being sincere with me. This is especially difficult with straight men, because I am always aware in the back of my mind that they have an ulterior motive. For this reason, I’ve always been pretty uncomfortable around them. Most of my friends are gay men, and those that aren’t are either asexual, genderqueer, or cisgendered females. I feel so much more at home with people who aren’t sexually attracted to me, and especially so in queer company.

Compliments in general kind of bother me. Aside from the whole “he just wants to fuck me” thing, a lot of times when people compliment me I just kind of sit there and wonder how I’m supposed to respond. Continue reading