Some people don't get asexuality and will persist in telling you that you'll "get over it" when you "meet the right person" or that you must be repressed, or whatever. This is highly annoying, but I've come to realise that it doesn't apply purely to asexuality and so perhaps shouldn't be taken too personally. There are some people who are just unable to grasp that we're all different in our tastes and preferences, and this can apply to all sorts of things.

For example, not so long ago I had an argument with a colleague who is a fanatical runner. He thinks that running is just the most enjoyable thing ever and completely fails to grasp the concept that other people might not like it. He firmly believes that if you just keep trying it, you're bound to find the joy in it and become as addicted as he is. No matter how much I tried to tell him that some people - including me - just don't enjoy running and see it as something close to torture, he couldn't accept it and kept arguing with me. Other people will do the same with their own interests, insisting that you MUST like a particular genre of film, or that if you only gave such-and-such an author a proper try, you would be bound to fall in love with them. Personally, it never occurs to me to assume that everyone will like the same things as me. I love writing penpal letters, visiting old graveyards and reading Charles Dickens, but I don't evangelise about it, or assume people are deluded if they don't share my enthusiasm. However it seems some people find it hard to step outside their own heads and appreciate that others might have entirely different - yet still valid - opinions and interests.

When it comes to sex and relationships, the liking and desiring of these no doubt seems so universal that it's even harder for people to get a grip on the idea that there are those who aren't interested. The "I feel this way so you must too" brigade cannot conceive of people who aren't driven by the same desires they are. And so they will try to find explanations that might account for why you DO actually feel the same way as they do, but just haven't realised it yet...

"You just haven't met the right person yet"

(Which often translates as - "You just hadn't met me until now"). This is perhaps harder to argue with if you're a teenager (even though you may indeed be asexual), because some people do come to love and sex a little later in life. I do think that most sexual people experience sexual desire and attraction fairly early on, but there may be some exceptions. But it does make me raise my eyebrows when I hear it directed at a 30-something like me. There are, for sure, people in their 30s who haven't met the right person to settle down with but how many of them, I would ask, have never even felt sexual or romantic desire for a single person in all that time? How many waited until they met the perfect Mr or Miss Right before they felt a stirring of their libido? I'm not someone who likes to say "I will never" because I've been known to say it and then do the thing I was never going to do, sometimes almost immediately. But I do think that, at the age of 32, having never been remotely interested in entering into a romantic relationship with anyone or feeling the desire to jump into bed with even the most attractive person, I can fairly say that it's very unlikely I'm going to develop the urge now. And I would like to be able to say it without the other person raising an eyebrow and giving me a "knowing" look.

"You just have a fear of intimacy"

I'm not even entirely sure what that means. I suppose it depends how you define "intimacy". Do I have a fear of sexual intimacy? Well, yes, in the same way that I have a fear of public speaking - it's something that I don't enjoy and find unpleasant and potentially embarrassing. It's fairly natural to feel uncomfortable with the idea of doing something you don't enjoy. Do I have a fear of emotional intimacy? I think that I just don't have much of a desire for it, or at least not a desire to share my emotional self with just one special person. I do talk about my feelings to friends and family when I need to, but I don't feel the need all that often. Maybe that's part of what being aromantic is about, although I'm sure some aromantic people have best friends who they share everything with. Emotional intimacy isn't something that has to be shared with a significant other... sexual intimacy isn't something you're likely to want if you don't already want sex. So, I'm not sure this argument has any relevance.

"Maybe you're actually gay and haven't realised it yet"

If I was a lesbian, I'm pretty sure I would notice. Yes, I know, there are people who only come to realise they're gay when they're older. Or at least, only come to acknowledge it. It seems to me it would be hard not to notice that you're attracted to your own gender, but I appreciate I have no special insight into the matter. I do know that I've always had an open mind on the subject and that there are no reasons why I shouldn't sleep with women if I wanted to - my family and friends would have no problem with it and neither would I. Before I discovered I was asexual, I thought of myself as "95% heterosexual", because I mainly find men attractive (in the sense of developing crushes on TV characters, for example) but I find women aesthetically attractive and never completely ruled out having a woman as a partner. I still don't; if I was to enter into a long-term non-sexual companionship with someone - which is the maximum I can ever imagine wanting - it could quite easily be with a woman. So, I've considered my options. And I can say with some certainty I'm not sexually attracted to women. If I was, I'm pretty sure I would be the first person to notice and wouldn't require to have it pointed out to me by a well-meaning acquaintance.

More of the common arguments made against asexuality and my responses to them in my next post...

On the whole, I think that being asexual and aromantic makes my life simpler. A few less things to worry about. But the one thing that is a little more difficult since I realised I wasn’t interested in sex and relationships is interacting with the opposite sex.

The question is, at what point do you say “I’m not interested”? I don’t know what it’s like in other parts of the world, but here it’s fairly rare to get asked out directly on a date. It would be pretty unusual for a casual acquaintance or someone you’d just met to say “Do you want to go out to dinner with me?”. More often, friendship shades into romance. Couples meet through work or mutual friends, start hanging out in a friendly way and see where things lead. I’m sure this is a good thing for romantic people, as friendship is a good basis for a relationship. However, it makes life a bit more awkward for those of us who never want our friendship to shade into anything else, thank you very much.

Say that you meet a guy socially (or online) and you’ve got loads in common, you really hit it off. You’re having a great conversation. He seems interested in you but you really don’t know whether that interest is friendly, romantic, sexual, or what it is. He doesn’t say anything that indicates he’s looking for a relationship but he suggests that you could maybe do stuff together at some point in the future. (“We should go jogging together some time” “If you ever need someone to see a movie with, give me a call” “I’ve always fancied joining a book club too, we could go together”).

Do you say “Sorry, I’m not interested in hanging out”, assuming that any interest shown by a man in a woman is sexual. Do you agree to hang out with him as a friend, saying nothing about your lack of interest unless the subject comes up, running the risk that he thinks things are heading in a romantic direction? Do you bluntly say “I’d love to hang out, but only as a friend” and run the risk that he wasn’t interested in more than friendship anyway and gets offended… or the risk that he doesn’t believe you and thinks you mean “friendship leading to something more?”. Or do you even more bluntly ask his intentions or say “I’m not interested in sex or relationships” which may seem extremely inappropriate if the conversation wasn’t moving in that direction?

Or do you do as a friend of mine used to, and wear a gold ring on your wedding finger in the hopes that such a situation never arises?

I like having male friends, I generally get on well with men, but if they’re sexual, straight and single, it has always worked out the same way for me – at some point, even if I’ve tried to make it clear I’m looking for friendship and nothing else, they get all googly-eyed and start trying to nudge things towards the bedroom.

Not to blow my own trumpet or anything, but I’m generally considered attractive. To me, it seems weird that that would therefore mean that virtually all sexual men would want to sleep with me, but it does seem that sexual men are relatively undiscriminating (that’s not true for everyone, I’m sure, but since so far 100% of sexual, straight, single men that I’ve spent any amount of time with have wanted to pursue a relationship with me, I only have that to go on). I generally end up feeling like I’ve led them on by simply being reasonably friendly, but should it be that way? Shouldn’t it be possible to be friendly with a man without it being seen as a possible invitation for sex? Or is it just the way most guys are wired and I should forget any idea of platonic friendships? Should I be cold and rude towards every guy I meet, in case I’m seen as a “tease”? (I already fall over myself not to say anything at all flirtatious). Or is there some magical middle ground between appearing rude and appearing over-friendly that I haven’t managed to discover yet?

You see… complicated!

I've always liked having male friends, but this can lead to misunderstandings. Sadly, it often leads to misunderstandings with the friends... but even when it doesn't it leads to misunderstandings with other people. Many people can't grasp the idea of a man and woman as friends. Maybe they can understand it if the man and woman are hanging out in a big group of other friends, but if a man and woman go somewhere together, just the two of them, then they have to be dating, right?

I once told a woman at work that I'd been to the cinema with a friend. When she ascertained this had been a male friend, rather than a female friend, she said "That's nice. Have your parents met him?" Um, what? I don't have my casual cinema buddies vetted by my parents... But to her, man + woman + cinema = hot date.

Next month I'm going on a weekend break with a male (asexual) friend. Every time people discover the friend I'm going on a trip with is a man, I see them perk up, as if they think there's hope for me yet. My grandmother is practically on the verge of buying a wedding hat. Because man + woman + holiday = serious relationship, surely?

When I reply to these people I find myself saying "No, we're just friends". But I don't like the word "just" in there. It doesn't feel right and I'm trying to stop saying it. Because as an aromantic asexual there's no "just" about friendships. Friendship is the most important relationship I can form, outside of family relationships. Therefore, I would rather not relegate it to second-best status with the "just" qualification.

I admit, I'm not someone who makes a lot of friends. I'm a very introverted, solitary person. And I tend to vet potential friends very carefully and warily, but I guess that's partly because, for me, friends are my "life partners". They're never going to come second to a relationship. Oh, I know, even for many romantic people friends never do come second to a relationship. But I think society still sees the romantic relationship as the primary one in your life and for many people, that is true. For aromantic asexuals, it's never going to be true, and so friendship is the highest form of relationship you can develop with another person.

That's why I'm determined not to describe anyone as "just" a friend again...

I came across a review of a radio show that had aired here in the UK a few days ago - I've just been listening to it online and thought it might interest some people here as well. It's called "From Jean Brodie to Carrie Bradshaw - Spinsters in Popular Culture". The presenter is Ann Widdecombe, a well-known politician and broadcaster here in the UK, who is also known for being a self-proclaimed virgin and confirmed spinster. In general I don't agree with her political or religious viewpoints, but I do admire her for being a very visible single woman living a sex-free lifestyle.

The radio show examines the way single women are portrayed in literature, from the old images of a spinster as mad or dangerous, to the modern singletons like the "Sex and the City" girls, and how realistic or healthy these portrayals are. It's not particularly in-depth, but I think it's good to hear this sort of thing being discussed on a mainstream national radio station.

If you'd like to read more about it or listen to the show - go here. It's only available to listen to for a couple more days. Non British listeners might not get some of the references, but it does refer to a lot of internationally created and known figures as well as purely home grown ones (Carrie Bradshaw, Bridget Jones).

I'll also reproduce the text of the review I read, which tells a bit about it:

( Read more... )

x-posted to asexuality

I’m a member of a panel on a reputable survey site that pays you for your opinions, usually on subjects like politics, society, lifestyle, etc, as commissioned by its business and political clients. Today I received an invitation for a survey on sexuality and relationships, so I clicked through to answer it.

I was somewhat afraid that I wouldn’t be able to answer the questions, as most surveys on sexuality have boxes for “Heterosexual”, “Homosexual” and “Bisexual”, and nothing else. Insofar as I experience any kind of romantic attraction, it’s towards men, even though I have no desire to sleep with anyone of any gender. So, faced with that choice, I generally plump for “Heterosexual”, which is as close as I can get. It feels pretty unsatisfactory though.

However, I was quite pleasantly surprised by this survey. OK, it didn’t have the option of “Asexual” but it did have the option of “Other” and a box to explain, so I was able to type in “Asexual”. On another question about sexual attraction, it did include the option “No sexual attraction to anyone”, which was good to see. There were also several questions where you could type into a box and explain things fully, so I made sure to put forward the asexual perspective.

The survey was at last partly framed towards identifying whether gay people feel under pressure to hide their sexuality or feel they have been victimised because of it, and a lot of the questions weren’t phrased in such a way that they applied to asexuality, but I was still happy to be able to mention it a few times and to make myself counted as one of those who experience “no sexual attraction to anyone”. There was also an opportunity to explain how you felt your sexuality had changed or your view of it had changed throughout your lifetime, so I was able to explain that I had considered myself heterosexual at first, until I had discovered the existence of asexuality and realised it applied to me. It was quite pleasing to encounter an official survey which accepted that sexuality could be fluid and wasn’t necessarily set in stone.

There was also a box at the end where you could include further comments, and I wrote that since at least 1% of the population is thought to be asexual, I would like to see it included as an option in further similar surveys.

The survey was connected to the British census possibly including a question about your sexuality in the next census survey (due in 2011). The question was to be optional, which I think would be correct, if it was included at all, since I don’t think the government has any right to force us to reveal our sexuality. However, I personally would answer the question if it was included, if only to get the word “asexual” into official records. I think an increasing number of people, especially the younger generation who are likely to be answering the next census survey for the first time, are identifying as asexual, so it would be good if a few people do mention it and perhaps get it recognised officially at some point.

There was a guy in my office the other day who was quite good looking. In particular, he had a nice body, and a very nice butt. I nearly said something about him being cute to one of my colleagues, but I bit my tongue because I knew what her reaction would likely be.

I’ve noticed that people who know I’m asexual, or that I don’t date, have one of two reactions if I say find someone attractive – hopeful (“Ooh, she does find someone attractive, maybe she’ll get together with him!”) or uncomfortable (“I don’t know what to say… what does she mean by that?”)

My colleague would have certainly gone for the “hopeful” option and probably suggested that I go talk to him or make up an excuse to get him back to the office. To her, a single woman showing any kind of interest in a man means only one thing – she wants to get together with him romantically.

To me, looking at an attractive man is a bit like looking at a beautiful dress that I know wouldn’t suit me at all, or a photo of a holiday location I wouldn’t actually want to visit. I might say “Ooh, that’s lovely!” and enjoy looking at it for a few minutes, but I don’t actually desire it.

As for the people close to me who do get that I’m asexual… I get the impression they don’t know how to react if I find someone attractive. They seem uncomfortable with the idea I’m looking at someone in what they would think of as a sexual way, even though they know I don’t have sex.

The concept of enjoying looking but having absolutely no interest in touching seems alien to most people. I should be totally interested or totally disinterested – what am I doing in that grey area in the middle?! And since I don’t want to spend half an hour explaining a throwaway comment, these days I usually just keep my mouth shut when I see someone good-looking and keep my admiration to myself!

A friend posted this link and I thought it was worth sharing - anti Valentine's Day t-shirts and gifts. They're not all asexual friendly but some of them are quite amusing!

I used to hate Valentine's Day, but since I realised I was asexual and aromantic, I find that I feel more neutral about it. I think of it much as I think of celebrations like Hanukkah... I'm not Jewish, so I don't celebrate it, but I don't have a problem with Jewish people doing so. Similarly, I'm not romantic so I don't celebrate Valentine's Day, but I don't have a problem with romantic people doing so (although a lot of the romantic people I know would rather stab themselves with kitchen implements that celebrate it... enjoying V-Day is by no means a given even if you are in love!) I tend to just let it wash over me... another one of those things that other people do, which I don't mind observing but have no desire to participate in.

I'm visiting my grandparents on the 14th... which I guess could be taken as a celebration of family love. At least I don't have to buy overpriced chocolates or get new lingerie for the occasion!

Yes, I’m aware this is 4 February, not 4 July (and that wouldn’t mean much to a Scot, anyway)! Today is my own personal Independence Day – it’s the anniversary (now the third) of the last time I went out on a date and therefore seems like an appropriate day to celebrate my liberation and my life as an independent woman :)

I therefore present, in honour of the day, ten great things about being an aromantic asexual:-

1. No danger of STDs. I can be something of a hypochondriac, but at least I can cross those off my list!
2. Not having to worry about being “played”. I won’t be sitting by the phone agonising over whether he’s going to call (even in my dating days, I generally hoped he wouldn’t).
3. Always sleeping alone. I realise this would be a curse to most people, but to me it’s one of life’s greatest pleasures. (And considering the way I sleep – with much tossing and turning, twisting of the bedclothes, weird leg positions and occasional drooling, the male population should be happy about this as well!)
4. Not giving a damn whether I have cellulite, whether my legs are silky smooth or whether I’m wearing pretty underwear or the baggy old stuff that lurks at the back of the drawer for when I haven’t bothered doing laundry in ages. As long as I look good on the outside, I don’t worry too much about what’s under my clothes - no-one’s going to see it! (Unless I get run over by a bus – in which case I’m frankly going to have more to worry about than the doctors seeing my big pants and greying bra!)
5. Not having to faff about with contraception. (A concept which confuses my doctors hugely. They don’t appear to have ever come across anyone before whose method of not getting pregnant was not having sex.)
6. Never waking up next to someone with “OMG, what was I thinking?” running through my head.
7. Living alone. Another joy for me. No-one else to consult on what to have for dinner, what to watch on TV or what time to go to bed. (Best of all, no-one to hassle me about what I do in bed). OK, so it means I have to do all the housework myself (but there’s no-one to nag me if it doesn’t get done) and deal with any giant mutant ninja spiders that cross my threshold, but it’s a relatively small price to pay for freedom, peace and always knowing where the remote control is.
8. No more being tortured by going on dates. Man, how I hated dating! There were one or two pleasant experiences, but mostly it was deeply uncomfortable and depressing. I just loathed the feeling that a guy was assessing me romantically and sexually, while I struggled to see him as anything other than a possible friend.
9. The blissful happiness of 14 February being exactly like every other day.
10. Lastly, and rather obviously… never having to have sex. The thought of being expected to regularly do sexual stuff with a partner is just deeply unpleasant to me. It could never be anything other than an unwelcome obligation, something to be gone through only if I absolutely had to, like a medical exam or getting a filling. And who would want to do that two or three times a week?

Here’s to another year of blissful singledom!

The subject of sexual dreams came up on a comm and it reminded me that one of the reasons I concluded I definitely was asexual was that I rarely - almost never - dream about sex. I'm not sure if that's actually common to a lot of asexuals, as some people were saying they do have sexual dreams, but personally, I really don't.

I have extremely vivid, detailed dreams about all sorts of things, and I remember a fairly large proportion of them, but over the years, I can think of very few that involved sex. I can remember only two dreams that involved me having realistic sex... both were what I would term nightmares, not just because it was sex but the particular sexual content and circumstances in the dreams, which left me quite disturbed (weird, disturbing dreams and nightmares are not particularly unusual for me). I can't think of any dreams where I've seen other people having sex. I can think of a few that have involved sex acts of some kind, or nudity, and a couple where, in the dream, I felt that I was "having sex", but in fact, remembering them later, both me and the other person were fully clothed and not really doing anything resembling sex!

It's actually kind of strange that I wouldn't dream about sex, because I dream about virtually everything else and things I see on TV or read about often make it into my dreams. I've seen and read loads of sex scenes over the years and in my younger, more hormonal days, I would even go out of my way to look at such things, but sex never made it into my dreams much at all.

In my whole life I've maybe had five dreams (that I remember) that involved me having sex with another person (whether realistically or otherwise). You could say that since I've had so little sexual experience in real life, I don't do it in my dreams either, but considering that in my dreams I frequently fly, attack people or smoke cigarettes, none of which I've ever done in real life, I don't think that argument applies! I have to conclude that sex just isn't really lurking in my subconscious. (Although I'm sure some Freudians would analyse my dreams and say they're all about sex but, frankly, Freudians annoy me and I won't be letting them anywhere near my dreams.)

I do sometimes have romantic dreams, though. Generally, in these dreams, I meet a man, feeling an instant, amazing connection with him and we fall in love, in a very pure, innocent, idealised way. We hold hands, hug and snuggle up together but never do anything more. I've always suspected these dreams, rather than being about me falling in love with someone else, are telling me to embrace some part of myself - and since they have almost completely tailed off in recent years, as I've become much more satisfied with myself and my life, I conclude that this interpretation was probably correct.

I haven't always known consciously that I was asexual... but it does look as if my subconscious has always had a fair idea!

With the 14th of February less than a month away, the heart-shaped chocolates, teddy bears embroidered with romantic/saucy messages and giant red quilted cards are starting to appear in the shops… while the flower shops are starting to ramp up their prices! Walking around town yesterday, seeing half the shop windows starting to turn red and pink, I felt very… happy. In fact, I almost started to skip and frolic right there in the middle of the High Street. Because I feel very safe this year… I’m sure that no-one is going to try to give me any of that crap!

I’ve always been nervous around this time of year. In the days when I attempted to date, I didn’t like to be seeing anyone around Valentine’s Day, in case they presented me with something fluffy, pink and heart-encrusted, or wanted to gaze into my eyes over a candle-lit dinner. Even having a male friend whose intentions I wasn’t sure of was enough to set off palpitations, because what if they saw this as a chance to declare their feelings?

Only twice in my life have I received something on Valentine’s Day (other than from my no doubt well-meaning grandparents when I was a kid). Both times I was absolutely mortified. I wanted to rip up the card as soon as I received it, I wanted to throw the flowers away without anyone knowing I had them. This wasn’t just because I didn’t particularly like the guys who gave them to me… but also because I just couldn’t stomach being the subject of such romantic gestures, or having other people know that I was.

As much as it’s seen as normal for a girl to have a boyfriend, or to be dating, and as much as I was sometimes made to feel awkward about the fact that I was always single, it has always been infinitely more embarrassing to me to say that I WAS seeing someone. The words “my boyfriend” just don’t fall easily from my lips. I remember saying it once, about a guy I had gone on a few dates with, and I wanted the ground to open up and swallow me. It felt wrong, it felt false, as if I was saying something that didn’t fit with my personality, lifestyle or preferences at all.

Of course, I finally figured out that I don’t experience romantic love, and that’s what made me so uncomfortable with people acting romantic towards me, or with telling people I was dating. I can’t reciprocate romantic feelings, because I only see people as potential friends, not lovers. And I hate having people assume that I’m experiencing romantic feelings, because it feels like a lie about some fundamental part of myself. If I mentioned a boyfriend I knew that there would be an assumption that I fancied him / loved him / was sleeping with him, when deep down I knew that none of it was true.

Now that I don’t date, and am quite open about the fact that I don’t have any interest in doing so, it’s so good to feel that I’m living my life honestly and authentically. And when I see the Valentine’s stuff appear in the shops, I feel such a sense of relief about that.

** PS: To those of you reading on Livejournal – you may notice that the annoying ads have gone and this journal has had a bit of a makeover! Yes, I finally got a paid account – I just couldn’t bear the irony of having ads that were mostly for dating sites right next to my posts about how it was perfectly fine to be single! To those of you reading on AVEN, where this blog now appears in the “Asexual Perspectives” section – welcome :) **

It's the New Year and so, of course, it's the time when newspapers and magazines start to deluge you with articles relating to people's likely resolutions and hopes for the year ahead. In amongst the many, many items about getting fit and dieting, I've also recently read quite a few articles about dating, and people finding love. A fair number of these articles have been about women in their 30s/40s/50s who always swore they would never settle down/marry/have kids, who suddenly found "Mr Right", fell madly in love and now have a wonderful, perfect life, all loved-up - in some cases popping out babies - and so much happier than they ever were in their single days.

These articles bug me... which is probably rather irrational, because I know that the majority of women do wish to meet the right person and have marriage and kids and all that. And it's not as if I'm all down on romance or begrudge people finding happiness in that way. I'm always pleased for friends who want, then find, the right relationship. No, what bugs me about these articles is that (a) they pass on the message that you can't really be happy with the single life, no matter what you might say and (b) they add fuel to the fire of those irritating people who respond to you saying you're not interested in relationships with a knowing look and a smug "Just wait till you meet the right person". I thought that once I reached my thirties, people might start to shut up, but fifty-something women waxing lyrical in the papers about how they've found love at last aren't doing me any favours!

I wouldn't object to those articles if, just occasionally, I came across ones about people who had been happily single all their lives and hadn't suddenly learned that they could only find fulfilment in the arms of the perfect lover. I know there has been the occasional article like that, but I can't say I've come across one personally (I mean, other than by following links that people have posted online) and I think the number of such articles that have appeared in the mainstream press is pretty low. Maybe it's unreasonable to expect anything more, since asexuals and aromantics are not all that numerous, but it would be nice to at least see the occasional mention of the fact that some people don't care for romantic relationships and are living happy lives without them (and are not monks or nuns).

A few months ago, I saw that there was an article in my daily newspaper about women who were single and happy. I turned to it excitedly... but found that what it was actually about, was women who had either had very full and varied love lives in the past and were now taking some time out for themselves, or who weren't settled down with one person but were still doing lots of dating and having lots of sex. None of the women featured had been single for any length of time in the sense of not dating or having relationships at all.

But then, these days, that's kind of what single is taken to mean... not that you're not having relationships, but that you're dating different people, having casual relationships or casual sex. "Single" seems to automatically have the words "and looking" or "but dating" appended to it. I feel like I need another word to describe myself. Of course, that word is "aromantic", but it's not a word that's widely known and, although I use it in the absence of anything else, I feel it sounds a bit like a medical condition or disorder... something you're diagnosed with and which needs a cure, rather than a natural way of living. It's certainly a word that needs long explanations and can't just be dropped into conversation.

Things may change. There are a lot more people blogging about asexuality and aromanticism and a lot more sites and communities opening up. And there is the occasional article getting into the mainstream press. Still, it's not exactly known. Sometimes I feel tempted to write to a widely read newspaper or magazine and tell my story... we need people to do that, if asexuality and aromanticism are ever to be understood by the general public. It feels a strange and difficult idea though, to put myself out there, talking about my feelings on sex and relationships in an article that may be read by my bosses, my workmates, my neighbours, my wider family... people I wouldn't generally discuss these matters with in private conversation.

But I guess if I'm not prepared to go out there and make an effort to change people's perceptions, I don't really have the right to complain that their perceptions are wrong...

Happy New Year to my readers... if you haven't already all wandered off due to my lack of posting! I've neglected this journal terribly of late. I've been somewhat uninspired, and have had other topics on my mind. But I must try to be at least semi-regular with posts in 2009.

I don't really like "reviews of the year", but a couple of things happened in 2008 which I guess answered a couple of questions in the back of my mind about my own lack of interest in sex and relationships.

I hear people wonder sometimes - and I'm sure a lot of doctors and therapists would state it to be the case - if asexuality and aromanticism are not in fact "real" but a by-product of other issues. That they spring from lack of self esteem, depression, social anxiety, body hang-ups or physical ailments.

When I learned what asexuality was a couple of years ago, in one way it felt like coming home, but there was always a part of me that wondered if I wasn't "truly" asexual. Some possible causes I can rule out - I don't particularly suffer from low self esteem and I'm very happy with my body. I was also tested for hormonal imbalances and many, many other things prior to being diagnosed with fibromyalgia, so I know that the often touted "low hormone levels cause asexuality" explanation isn't the case for me. But depression and anxiety are things I've suffered from on and off over the years, not to mention that my fibromyalgia and sleep disorder made me tired and low in energy. As for social anxiety, there was still a small question in my mind about whether I suffered from that... or was just an antisocial cow, lol!

In 2008 I answered those questions. Firstly, I socialised more. OK, it's not like I was out dancing and clubbing every weekend (if I ever report that I'm doing that, please come and shoot the alien that has clearly taken my place) and I still spent a lot of time alone, but during the year I met and hung out with quite a few new people. I conclusively proved to myself that I don't have social anxiety or any kind of phobia about meeting people. I still generally prefer being on my own, but in social situations, I'm fine and don't suffer a lot of anxiety. I'm not lacking in sex and relationships because I'm too afraid or insecure to get out and meet and interact with people.

So maybe I was lacking in sex drive because of my recurrent depression, or my feelings of fatigue? Towards the end of 2008 I also had the opportunity to discover the truth about that, when I started a new medication, a low dose antidepressant (amitriptyline), to help with my fibro symptoms. It worked for me really well and I'm now sleeping more soundly, feeling more upbeat and confident and rarely experiencing periods of extreme tiredness. I have more energy, enthusiasm and motivation than I have done for years.

Did my sex drive ramp up along with my energy? Did a desire to find a partner and fall in love rear its head with my greater confidence and reduced anxiety? No. In fact, the opposite has happened. In the two months that I've been feeling so much better, I've noticed that sex and relationships have crossed my mind considerably less than they did before. No new sex drive has sprung into existence and the occasional moods I got into previously, where I would think that dating and relationships might in fact be the answer to my problems, have disappeared. One of the reasons that I haven't posted much in that period, is, I think, that sex and relationships haven't even really been entering my head. I just feel generally so much more fulfilled with the rest of my life that there isn't even the smallest gap for those thoughts to sneak into. I think, in fact, that the small amount of interest in sex and relationships I had before was a product of my depression and tiredness... it was during down times that I tended to want a "pick-me-up" and the thought of a new relationship held some appeal. Now it holds little or no appeal. Now I feel 100% sure that being asexual and uninterested in relationships is an integral part of who I am - not the by-product of some defect.

I'm just one person and I'm not saying that every person with no interest in sex is asexual by nature. It's for every individual to understand whether their low or non-existent sex drive is connected to some other factor. But a link between mental or physical problems and lack of interest in sex definitely shouldn't be assumed. I know of lots of people who suffer from depression, anxiety, low self-esteem, childhood trauma and various other issues who have a pretty standard, or even very high, interest in sex and relationships. Equally, plenty of asexual people have no mental or physical problems and are still very much asexual. (I realise I may be somewhat preaching to the choir here, but a lot of asexual people do continue to feel confused about whether their asexuality is linked to other issues they have.)

I may only have been about 2% unsure about my asexuality before, but now I can say that I'm 100% sure, and 100% happy with my life as an aromantic asexual!

(I'm making similar posts to my own journal and asexuality, so apologies to those of you seeing it two or three times!)

After my last post (which was a while ago, I know… I’ve been trying to focus my energies on NaNoWriMo this month) I’ve been thinking about what “aromantic” actually means, or rather, what I intend it to mean.

A lot of people use it to mean “not wanting a romantic relationship” and I’ve probably used it that way myself but I don’t think that’s quite what it should mean. If “asexual” means “not experiencing sexual attraction” then I think that aromantic should mean “not experiencing romantic attraction”. If an asexual doesn’t crave sex, then an aromantic doesn’t crave romance – but asexuals can have sexual relationships if they choose, so I would suggest aromantics can also have romantic relationships, if they choose.

Of course, then you come up against the thorny problem of defining “romantic attraction”. Sexual attraction is much easier, since it clearly involves wanting to be intimate with someone in a specific – physical – way, but what is romantic attraction? Personally, I think it would involve a certain amount of having your heart flutter when you think about another person, wanting to be with that person, craving intimacy with that person (whether it’s purely mental intimacy or also hand-holding, hugging, etc), wanting to gaze into their eyes, that general feeling that you’re falling for someone. Since there is, clearly, a middle ground between friendship and sexual attraction – given the number of asexual romantics out there – romantic attraction must exist as a separate entity. It’s a little hard to define in words but I guess that the majority of us have some idea of what it is.

Let me try to explain what I mean by talking about myself. I don’t really experience romantic attraction, or, if I do, it’s mild and not something I need to act on. But I can choose to act on it and I can sometimes enjoy romantic experiences. A few years ago I was dating a guy and I found him reasonably attractive. We kissed, held hands, hugged, touched, did all the affectionate partner-type stuff, and I quite enjoyed it. It was pleasant, it was fun – but I never craved it and at any time I could have reverted to pure friendship with him, without feeling I had lost out. I didn’t look at him and think “I must kiss him!” and although I had quite warm feelings for him, I didn’t crave spending lots of time with him or spend ages thinking about him when he wasn’t around.

That’s about as close as I’ve got to a romantic relationship, but it ended pretty quickly because I knew things would move on towards sex and I wasn’t interested in that. I would have been quite happy to keep things as they were in the early dating days – going out once a week or so, having the guy as a friend who I was also affectionate with, but without the physical side going too far. That worked pretty well for me, but I didn’t miss it when it was gone and I haven’t really craved it since.

I consider myself aromantic because I don’t fall for people in the way others do; I’ve never been with someone and thought that I really must touch and kiss them, or that I absolutely don’t want to be apart from them. But I can imagine that if I was with someone I felt really comfortable with and had affection for – and who had the same kind of feelings about romance and sex as me – that I could enter into an exclusive relationship with them that would have romantic elements. That would, essentially, be a “romantic relationship”, but I would be in it through choice, rather than because of a powerful romantic attraction that I couldn’t ignore. (I don’t completely rule out the possibility that I could totally fall for someone romantically, but it hasn’t happened yet)

Unlike romantic asexuals, I don’t crave that type of arrangement, I only see it as a possibility and not one that’s very likely, as there aren’t many people who would be compatible with me, or that I would feel I wanted that type of relationship with. I haven’t met anyone yet in 31 years, so it’s not particularly likely that I will in the future. And so I consider myself aromantic… I’m somewhat different from those aromantics who don’t understanding romantic attraction at all and would always run a mile from any kind of relationship with romantic elements, but then there are different types of asexuals – from those who will quite happily have sex to please a partner, to those who would never, ever, under any circumstances do so – so I don’t see why there can’t be different types of aromantics too. I’m an aromantic who can understand romance and could enjoy the occasional romantic moment, if circumstances were right, but who doesn’t have a need for it.

So… when I use the term “aromantic”, I’m generally using it in this broader sense, rather than simply meaning someone who doesn’t have, or understand, relationships at all.

A thought suddenly popped into my head the other day... I'm asexual and aromantic.  I know a lot of people who are asexual and romantic.  So, can you be sexual and aromantic? 

I've never had much time for people who have lots of sexual partners without romantic commitment, the "love 'em and leave 'em", hit and run types.  But then I thought to myself, what would I be like if my lack of interest in romantic relationships and desire to be alone and independent was coupled with a sex drive?  I guess I would be one of those people who sought out casual sex partners for no strings attached sex... because that would be the only way I could satisfy my natural instincts.

It gave me an unexpected understanding, and sympathy, with people who behave that way, who love sex but never have relationships.  Maybe they're really no more "immature" or "commitment phobic" than me... just aromantic sexuals, people who possess one drive but not the other.

That kind of behaviour does get people hurt, of course, but it wouldn't be the only way to live as an aromantic sexual.  I have an acquaintance who gives every impression of being aromantic.  She hates romantic gestures and makes a face if anyone talks about anything sappy.  She's very independent and loathes the idea of the traditional happy ever after.  But she has a partner who she's been with for over ten years.  They don't live together, but they see each other a couple of times a week, go on holiday together and he stays overnight with her sometimes.  It's more of an exclusive friendship with benefits than a relationship, but it seems to suit them both.  I guess you could describe them as aromantic sexuals. 

They're both quite happy with the situation, as far as I can tell, but on the whole I think it must be easier to want either the whole lot - romance, sex, commitment - or none of it.  For those who want romance, sex, commitment, marriage, kids, there are lots of like-minded people out there.  What they want is seen as standard and acceptable.  Not wanting any of it is highly unusual, but at least you don't have the difficulty of meeting someone who wants the same thing.  It's when you want some bits but not others that it becomes more tricky.  That's when people get hurt, or it becomes almost impossible to find someone on the same wavelength as yourself.

One of my older female colleagues came rushing up the stairs at work the other day to say there was "a bit of talent" downstairs - a couple of good looking guys from our file archiving service - and I should get myself down there to look at them.  I didn't feel the least inclined to do so, but she was quite insistent so eventually I said I was going down for a glass of water anyway, just to shut her up.  As it turned out, I didn't see them, as they were in with another colleague and I would have had to invent some excuse to go in there, so I returned without "success", much to the disappointment of my colleague, who immediately suggested I should make the tea that afternoon instead of her, so that I had an excuse to go in there and look at them.

I declined.  I told her I really wasn't interested (which she didn't seem to understand).  And I really wasn't.  Sure, I like attractive people.  If I had happened to run into them and they really had been very good looking, that would have been a brief diversion.  But run excitedly down three flights of stairs just for a glimpse of some possibly attractive men?  Offer to do someone else's job so that I can have an excuse to get close to them?  Um... no, thanks.

Of course, it occurred to me afterwards (a long time afterwards) that most single women probably would want an excuse to meet a decent looking guy, in the hope of getting talking and possibly getting a date out of it, but at the time I was just baffled as to what I was supposed to be getting excited about.

Mind you, I've seen other men this particular colleague thinks are "hunky" and so I wouldn't have been getting my hopes up anyway!  That may just be me though - there are very, very few people that I really find good-looking, especially on first glance.  Whereas my colleague seems to think any vaguely decent looking guy without a beer gut is something special.  Some women seem to walk up the street swooning left, right and centre at supposedly gorgeous guys, but I see someone I find really good looking only every few weeks or so.  Partly that's because I don't really look - I tend to be in a world of my own when I'm walking along, and pay little attention to faces - and partly it's because I only find someone gorgeous if they're really extremely aesthetically pleasing or have some particular charm or quirk that appeals to me.  I guess it's because I'm not sizing people up as potential mates - so I'm only interested in someone if there's some payback for me in the sense of being very appealing to the eye (just as I might want to hang around looking at a spectacular view), or interesting in some other way (so I might label "attractive" someone who had a very friendly smile, or a charismatic manner that suggested they would be good company).  

I actually found it kind of insulting that my colleague would expect me to get all worked up and run straight down to look at these apparent hunks... although when I thought about it later I realised it was probably me that was acting weirdly.  (It usually is, lol!)

One of the things I like about being asexual is that I'm incapable of being seduced, or led astray by sexual desire.  Now, I realise that being seduced by someone you're attracted to and care about is probably a very enjoyable experience for sexual people, but I'm thinking here of the kind of seduction that later leaves you slapping your forehead and asking why on earth you did such an incredibly stupid and irresponsible thing.

Now, I'm not someone who likes to say "Never", largely because I have a long history of saying I'll never do a particular thing and then doing it, sometimes almost immediately.  Hence, I'm not going to say that I'll never have a sexual relationship as long as I live.  You never know... stranger things have happened.  On certain days, if I really stretch my imagination, I can almost imagine having some sort of sexual relationship with someone, if I loved them and found them very physically attractive.  But, for me, I could only ever make a choice to have sex... I would have to weigh it up, give it some consideration, and make an actual decision.  I couldn't be swept into it on a wave of desire.  I'll admit that I like the company of good-looking people, but even in close proximity to someone who's gorgeous, charismatic and generally wonderful, I don't have any interest in going to bed with them.  Put me naked in bed with the person I find the most attractive in the whole wide world and I'll still express a strong preference to turn over and go to sleep.  There's no irresistible urge, with me.  

When I read about the rise in STDs and unwanted pregnancies, it makes me feel very happy that I'll never have that to contend with.  It also makes me happy that I won't end up in a mess due to sleeping with the wrong person.  I'll never have the awkwardness of an affair with my boss or with a married man.  I won't have any mornings after nights before, waking up next to the local stud who'll say he's going to call, but never does.

It never fails to make me smile when I hear some playboy type boasting that he can get any woman into bed and I think to myself "Not me!".  There's no magic word, no seduction technique, no amount of wining and dining that could get me to give it up.  I somehow find that very comforting.

Oh, I'm well aware that there are still many, many ways in which I can make horrible decisions and screw up my life, but at least careless sex won't be one of them! 

Yes... long time no post.  A combination of stressful family problems, my own health issues and a general lack of time and energy has meant I haven't managed to say anything here in a while... But, I'm still here, still asexual and hoping to get more active with posting here again!

A couple of films that I watched recently brought home to me how my thoughts and feelings about sex and attraction have changed over the years.  I know that a lot of asexuals never experience any interest in sex at all, never feel aroused and never have crushes - but I did experience all those things, when I was younger. 

I guess all the "normal" hormones kicked in when I was a teenager.  I did have lots of crushes and plenty of interest in and curiosity about sex.  There were posters of good looking singers, actors and sportsmen all over my bedroom wall, and usually at least one or two real life guys that I had crushes on and would get giggly around.  I could also feel aroused and that happened pretty easily when I was younger.  I  could enjoy sex scenes in films and books and used to look at porn online when I first got the internet.  I thought about sex and sexual relationships - in a fictional setting - quite a lot.  All fairly standard sexual behaviour, except that I never translated that into wanting to have sex with another person.  That was just something that never seemed interesting to me.  I had sexual feelings but I lacked sexual desire, is the best way to put it, I guess.

I found those feelings enjoyable, irritating and confusing in fairly equal measure.  On the one hand, it was quite fun, and the feelings quite pleasant, but I also found it annoying that I spent time dwelling on that stuff when I could have been doing something more interesting or productive.  Sexual thoughts felt intrusive at times and as if they didn't really belong to me.  It was also confusing because there was always a part of me that asked why I would be having those feelings and thoughts if I didn't want to have sex myself?  Which was why I spent many years thinking I must be sexually repressed or scared, and needed to liberate myself, rather than accepting things the way they were.

But things have changed over the years.  The way I look at it, the teenage hormones have settled down and my inner asexuality has come to the fore.  Since my mid to late twenties, my interest in sex and ability to be attracted to people has died away almost to nothing.

Back to the two films... one featured an actor who was basically my last crush, the last person I could say, honestly, got me excited.  However, I watched this film with him recently and... nothing.  Oh, I still thought him quite easy on the eye and he's still my "type" as far as I have one, but but no flutter in the stomach, no feeling of excitement or anticipation of his next appearance on the screen.  Nothing, really, beyond an aesthetic appreciation.  That means that I now have no crushes at all... no-one who I get giggly or excited about.  I don't rule out getting another crush at some point, but it certainly is a change from my teenage days when there were dozens of different fantasy guys vying for my attention.

The second film I saw featured lots of sex scenes. At one time, that would have got me feeling something, some sort of arousal or fascination, but this time, I felt mostly indifferent.  In fact, I kept thinking "OK, enough with the sex, can we move on?"  It was boring to me and held little interest.  Again, this is different than I used to feel.  I used to seek out books and films with sex scenes - now I tend to toss a book aside if it has too much sex, and check my watch during the sex scenes in movies.

I realise that many sexual people's drives diminish as they get older (but I'm only 31!).  I also realise a lot of people would say that the fact I had an interest in sex when I was younger "proves" that I'm really sexual and just repressing it or suffering from some sort of sexual dysfunction.  They would suggest that my sexual drives were normal and my asexuality abnormal.  But to me, it's the other way around.  When I was younger, it felt as thought I was being hijacked by biological impulses that had little to do with me.  Feelings that were pointless because I lacked the desire to act on them.  Now that my sexual interest has declined, I feel as if my brain, body and personality have all come into line and that I'm the way I'm naturally intended to be.  

This is emphasised to me by the fact that I do still have sexual and romantic thoughts and feelings - but only under certain circumstances.  Firstly I still think about sex and passionate relationships (although always in a fictional setting - I never think about them happening to me) at certain times in my monthly cycle, suggesting that hormones play a big part.  Secondly, the only times when I myself crave a relationship, and sometimes have dreams about sex and relationships, is when I'm under a lot of stress or feeling depressed.  At times when I'm seeking change, fulfilment or escape from my regular life... when I guess sex or a relationship are fairly natural things for my subconscious to suggest - but as soon as I get back on an even keel, those thoughts and dreams disappear.

When I'm feeling quite content with my life and just going about my day to day activities, I don't think about sex, dwell on attractive guys or crave a relationship at all, any more.  And this feels completely right to me. Its like, finally, I can be myself, without these silly, unnecessary thoughts of sex in my head. During the moments when I'm hormonal or in a particular type of mood, I can still quite enjoy escaping into thoughts of romance and sex, for a short time.  And I admit that I sometimes miss the crushes a little bit - they were fun, and harmless.  But the majority of the time I live as an individual who doesn't experience those types of thoughts and it feels like that's just as it should be... that this is the real me, living authentically.

When I was younger - in my teens - my mother would sometimes look at what I was wearing and say to me something like "You can't go out in that skirt - it's see through!" or "I can see your bra under that top!".  I never saw what the big deal was.  I would reply by saying "Well, people know that I must have legs under my skirt!" or "So what?  I'm a woman, I wear a bra, big deal!".  I could see how maybe some things could look not nice, or a bit trashy, but I honestly never got the idea that men would think I was easy, or that men would sexually fantasise about me based on what I was wearing.

As an asexual, it can be kind of hard to figure out what is a sexual trigger to other people.  To be honest, I think it's only quite recently that it's dawned on me that men might look at me and think about having sex with me, or fantasise about what I would look like with my clothes off.  When I see other people who look good, I think "Wow, he/she looks good!".  And there it ends.  If I see a good looking guy with his shirt off, sure, I'll admire his chest.  If I see a good looking guy with his shirt on, I admire the way he looks with his shirt on.  I don't wish that he would take it off.  It's really of no significance.  I certainly don't think about sleeping with him, or imagine him in a sexually seductive pose.

I don't really get the attraction of body parts.  It's strange to me that men could get excited by something as ordinary and mundane as breasts, for example.  Half the population has them, they're all over the place.  What's the big deal?  I never could grasp the appeal of soft porn.  Looking at naked people seems like quite a boring pastime.  Seen a few, seen them all, surely?

I can be slightly dense about this.  In fact I suspect I've been quite dense about it all my life.  I should say that I'm considered attractive and I have a nice figure.  I like feminine beauty and I like wearing clothes that show me to best advantage.  I like a slightly retro glamour look, or a slightly gothic or rock chick look - corsets, pencil skirts, cinched in waist, high heels, skinny jeans, long boots.  To me, this look has nothing whatsoever to do with sex.  Not a thing.  I'm not trying to enhance my sexual appeal or look sexually available.  I genuinely just think it looks nice.  And for years I assumed that when people looked at me they saw me the way I saw myself - pretty, nicely dressed, stylish.  I enjoyed it when people gave me admiring looks but I have to say - and I'm not a particularly naive person in general - it didn't really occur to me that when men gave me admiring looks, they were thinking anything more than "Hey, she looks great!".  I remember going out once in a low-cut top and I really did wonder why guys in the supermarket were staring at me.  I thought I must have a stain on my clothes or something.  It was a long time afterwards that it dawned on me they were looking at my breasts.  *shrugs*  I think I have nice breasts.  But I don't really see their excitement value.

I used to think I understood what people meant when they talked about someone looking sexy, but maybe they mean that the way a person dresses makes them think about sex?   I see a lot of things that people describe as sexy as beautiful and a lot as trashy, but it's not actually related to sex, in my head.

A few weeks ago I suddenly thought "I wonder if the men I know, the men I work with, for example, think about what it would be like to see me naked or to have sex with me?".  It had never, ever occurred to me before.  They probably have.  That's... weird.  I don't find it offensive.  Just... weird.

I realise that being turned on by the way someone looks is more of a male trait than a female trait.  Women are supposed to want more.  But I don't know if that's entirely true.  Women have their pin-ups too.  In one of the magazines I read, there's a regular page where they show some buff celebrity with his top off, usually accompanied by comments of the likes of "We'd love to rub in his sun tan lotion!".  I tend to find these pictures quite aesthetically pleasing, but I would be just as happy with a picture of a sunset or a kitten.  Presumably they do arouse some sort of feeling in other women, though.

I don't instinctively understand lust, that's the issue.  I don't understand looking at someone and thinking sex.  It makes sense to me that you would have powerful feelings of attraction and a desire to be intimate with, and to please physically, someone who you found not only outwardly attractive but attractive in their personality.  I get love and lust being combined.  But what I find difficult to understand is random lust for a stranger, or even for someone you don't like,  based purely on them having a nice rack or a great butt.  I find it difficult how someone could get all excited over some hot body, then another one a few minutes later, then another one.  Attraction to a few specific people, based on various qualities, seems like the only thing that makes sense to me.

OK, I sound really dumb in this post... obviously I DO understand that, from an evolutionary point of view, it makes sense that people have sexual desires and that certain things trigger it.  It's in most people's genes.  It's just that when you don't experience it yourself, it seems like odd behaviour.

I also find it annoying.  I find it annoying that people are thinking those thoughts about me.  I'm not disgusted, just irritated that it might prevent them from seeing me in other ways.  It annoys me that the kind of clothes I like could be taken as a signal of sexual availability, that men might think they have a chance to get me into bed because they can see a bit of cleavage.  It annoys me that many men can't see past my breasts to the idea of platonic friendship, because I do enjoy having male friends, but it rarely works out.  It annoys me to have to navigate my way through a sexual world and actually have to think about this stuff, because it's not natural to me to think about it.

I recently read "The Post-Birthday World", by Lionel Shriver.  It's not the type of book I would usually read, since it's entirely focussed on one woman's thoughts about and experiences of love, sex and relationships, but I was intrigued by the idea of it (it's a "Sliding Doors" type affair, following the two paths of the main character's life, depending on whether she makes one choice or another) and I found the writing good enough that I wanted to read on.

The main character's world largely revolves around the relationship she's in and it's all about her feelings of attraction, her experiences of sex, her day to day life in a relationship, her emotions connected to the men she's with and how their moods and reactions affect her.

What struck me about the book was how alien it all was to me.  I found it all quite fascinating, but in the same way as I would be fascinated by a book set among Tibetan monks or African farmers.  It was an insight into a way of life that's so very different to mine, a glimpse inside the (albeit fictional) head of someone who is the polar opposite of me, a woman who is defined by her sexual and romantic feelings and experiences.

In notes at the end of the book, the author says "Surely it's time we admit it, men and women both: that we agonise more about romantic love than about global warming".  Well, I can't say I sit around agonising about global warming, but I've probably thought about it more than I've thought about romantic love, or at least, romantic love as related to me.  Even in the days when I dated, I rarely gave much thought to it... somehow, the idea of me having a love life never would stick in my brain as a solid concept, and was always brushed aside quickly in favour of thinking about other things.

Sometimes I have these moments when it occurs to me that for most of the people around me, relationships, love and sex are extremely important and consume large amounts of their energy, thoughts and daily experiences.  I don't know another person in real life who has never had a relationship.  I hardly even know anyone who's single.  I used to know an 18 year old who was onto her second long-term relationship (two more than me).  I have a friend who has never been single in her adult life for more than a few weeks. It always comes as sort of a surprise to me when I give this some thought, because it's not as if there's any gap in my life where romantic relationships could go.  It's a little bit hard for me to understand how other people actually find the time to have or look for relationships, or think about them or work on them, since I can't imagine how I could fit such things into my lifestyle!

I think this is the thing that most sets me apart from other people, because love and romance are considered to be so universal.  Sex is too, but being asexual is less visible than being aromantic.  Unless you hang out with people who talk about sex all the time and want to know about your sex life, being asexual isn't necessarily going to come up and it's not likely to come up with people you've recently met.  Never having had and not wanting a relationship, however, is much more likely to come up through casual enquiry, and it really marks you out as different.  One thing that most people assume about others is that they'll share at least some of their romantic experiences... we're all supposed to have a first love, a first serious relationship, a story or two about heartbreak and betrayal.  Not having those things, not just in your present, but at any time in your past, really makes you extremely different from others.

All this is sometimes almost hard for me to believe in.  My life feels totally normal to me and although I'm used to hearing other people talk about their dates, relationships, marriages, sex lives, etc, some part of me still thinks of sex and relationships as fictional things, or at least as things that mainly happen in the movies and only occasionally in real life, kind of like car chases or gun battles.  To think of it being almost universal for people to be experiencing and desiring those things to me is odd... but I guess that I'm the odd one out!

Time for another question from a reader! 

How do you feel about physical intimacy that doesn't have to do with genitals? For instance do you sometimes long for someone to hug you, to put his/her hand in your back, for someone to stroke your hair or hold your hand/arm. To have someone to crawl against after a long and tiring day. So human contact, physical warmth.

Well, the short answer to this is that I don't long for it, but I don't dislike the idea either - providing the right person was on hand to provide the human contact.

I'm not a very touchy-feely person, by nature or by culture, and I don't crave physical contact in general.  I didn't grow up in the kind of place where you hugged and kissed friends or walked arm in arm with them.  It just wasn't really done.  I had a normally affectionate childhood, with lots of hugging and kissing with my parents, but as an adult, it wasn't the norm to hug and kiss someone unless you were closely related to them or dating them.  I remember the first time an acquaintance greeted me with a hug and a kiss on both cheeks - I was in my early 20s and had never encountered such a thing before.  I had no clue where to put my hands or lips and was quite bamboozled and shaken up by it!  Being touchy-feely has become more normal now, and it's something I'm comfortable with, but that I don't generally instigate.  If a friend takes my arm or gives me a hug, that's fine, but if they don't, it doesn't occur to me to do it.  I guess I don't have a strong desire or need for physical contact.  I still hug my parents and other family members from time to time, and that's nice, and it seems to be enough.

I used to say that I didn't like to be touched, but that's not really true.  Sometimes I like it, but it depends who it's with.  The odd thing is, it doesn't necessarily matter how well I know the person or even how much I like them.  I can like and care about two people equally, but when one hugs me I freeze and when the other hugs me, I enjoy it.  I suppose it's a non-sexual chemistry, of a sort.  This was brought home to me a couple of years ago when I was going through the rounds of testing for a medical condition.  I've generally disliked being touched by strangers and haven't particularly enjoyed even such supposedly pleasurable things as massages.  Medical exams were, of course, not a lot of fun (I'm sure not many people think they are), but I had this one doctor who examined me (it wasn't an intimate exam or anything, just manipulating my joints) and, against all expectations, I found his touch incredibly soothing and pleasant.  He was quite attractive and a nice guy, but attractive and nice guys have touched me before with little effect.  It wasn't a sexual feeling, but it was just nice and soothing and relaxing.

In my dating days there was also one guy in particular who I enjoyed being touched by.  Again, for me, what was pleasurable was not so much any kind of arousal but a feeling of relaxation.  I'm a pretty tense person and often being touched by other people makes me more tense, but this guy could actually relax me with his touch and being with him was a good way of de-stressing (I'm sure he didn't see our make-out sessions as de-stressing, exactly, but that was where any pleasure lay, for me!)  Still, when we stopped seeing each other, I can't say that I thought too much about missing out on that, or felt it painfully absent from my life.

So, I guess the answer to the question is that I don't crave physical contact in general, but sometimes I can see the attraction of having someone around who I felt that non-sexual chemistry with, whose touch could soothe and relax me and who I could enjoy hugging, snuggling up to, holding hands with, etc.  I'm sure it would be relaxing and therapeutic to spend some time with such a friend/companion.  But I've gone most of my adult life without that type of contact and it's honestly not something I dwell on or seem to have a strong need for.  I don't know whether that's a common asexual thing or if it's just me... but it meshes in well with my asexual/aromantic lifestyle.