Once Mom and I returned from Solomon Pond Mall—tripping over bags, of course—I rushed downstairs and logged into AOL. In a flash, I put an away message up so that I could have some privacy. After deleting my old blog, I began a brand-new one with a fresh username and title.
LiveDiary—Your On-Line Journal
for the 21st Century
The Prism of Asexuality
@AceofHearts
Let the world know we're
more than a plus sign.💜💪
No Masks. Bring cake.
Friday, March 19, 1999
258 views
136 likes
48 comments
Welcome to my new blog, dear readers!
Today I've decided to remove my mask of celibacy. One so carefully grafted onto my own skin that I could no longer distinguish it from my own flesh. I displayed it with pride, convincing myself, my family, and my friends that I had chosen to abstain from sex.
Today I'm ripping off that mask. Not with a scream but with a cry of joy. At least online. Because I'm not celibate, and I never have been. The Church doesn't tell me what to do.
My brain does.
My heart does.
Months ago my pastor had told me to delve deep within my soul in order to find my real self. He told me God would grant me the courage and the strength to realize what purpose He'd chosen for me and to embrace it with all my heart.
I don't know what God is. Or who God is. Maybe He's simply my inner voice calling to me in the dead of night, imploring me to listen.
That Spirit has never encouraged me to have sex. It's telling me to find a person who's compatible with me. Not to give in to what society demands. Not to kowtow to the girls in my class, desperate to shape me into their image and likeness. Not to fold to my family, but to embrace those who love me as I am.
So it's time for some real talk.
At school the least likely person has told me never to stop writing. Never to give up on my quest for self-knowledge. He's found a grain of truth in my blog, one that I can only assume may have helped him discover himself.
That's when I knew I couldn't give up.
So here I stand.
No bullshit. All truth.
I think I'm asexual.
There. I said it. With the same pride as Zoe O'Reilly in her article.
Not even with my deepest crushes do I feel the hint of sexual attraction. No matter how badly I want to talk to them, to know their inner thoughts, to hold their hand or kiss their cheek, or to be their girlfriend or their partner, I don't look at them and feel that emotion.
Ever.
The more I understand what sexual attraction means, the more I realize that I've always been asexual.
Reach first base? Shit, man, I haven't even stepped up to home plate.
Even if I hit a home run, that doesn't change my identity. Never will any person, any medium, or any sexual encounter change the fact that I feel no sexual attraction. No matter how I act, it doesn't change my fundamental nature.
YOU ARE READING
Mask of Celibacy
Teen FictionIn the late nineties asexuality is all but ignored as an orientation. Jess doesn't understand her complex array of emotions or why she finds it so hard to relate to her fellow classmates. Catholic high schools and churches simply don't address the i...
