52 and finally embracing me!

[menina]

Hi there,

 

I’m just going to start typing and see what flows...and maybe some people will identify with the this or that of it...

 

I feel like I’m a pick and mix of asexuality, not that I had a hand in the picking and mixing!

 

Before I finally joined Aven last week, I reasoned for years that I couldn’t be asexual because I did have sexual fantasies and I did think I felt sexual attraction. I’ve started to realise that I wasn’t actually feeling that attraction in quite the same way that many others do.

 

I thought maybe I was a “little” for a good while (I’m talking about the Daddy Dom/little girl scenario), except that I really didn’t like the manipulation that can be involved in such relationships, and I wasn’t into the age play or the physical/sexual domination either. It was just the space to feel as happy and carefree and loved as a young girl. What really drew me was the description of aftercare that I had read about, the tender loving care and being looked after, the deep bond that seemed to go with that. That’s probably down to the fact that my dad died when I was seven, and I didn’t have the best relationship with my mother. 

 

But, when I tried relationships like that, I found that there was, yet again, a price I couldn’t pay for the tender loving care: sex. So the tender loving care was inevitably withdrawn, there was resentment at the time they had spent on me, and the qualities of warmth and kindness that they seemed to have been drawn to in me were overwritten by accusations of coldness and selfishness eg my vagina was the grand prize that I thought was too good to share with anyone!

 

I didn’t feel that I was deliberately refusing men. As far as I was aware, I had primary vaginismus, which is an involuntary spasming of the pelvic muscles that makes penetration painful or impossible. I tried using vaginal trainers, but was really unmotivated. My reason for becoming sex-ready was to be worthy of love. Yet, I resented this.

 

In order to hold onto one particular relationship, and convincing myself that I really could be sexual (by ignoring the fact that I really couldn’t see myself ever swinging from the chandeliers, or anything approaching it), I picked up where I had left off with the dilators and managed to insert a dildo. Ironically, this was meant to be a compromise because the jump between dilators 3 and 4 seemed too big, and I was worried about injuring myself.

 

I was so elated when I managed to insert it, although I’d really had to push. I felt no pleasure from it and I definitely felt discomfort. And, I mean, how do you know if the pain you are feeling is vaginismus pain or pain from actually doing yourself damage?

 

I really couldn’t see how I would cope with having something bigger than that thrusting in and out of me, without causing me pain and misery rather than orgasmic joy. The elation was more from a sense of achievement, a little competition with myself to see if I could go one dilator further, and it gave me hope that I might not be forever excluded from love in the way that men accused me of excluding them from sex.

 

But, an hour after the dildo success, my body began to express its displeasure at my actions. There was a lot of discomfort for months afterward, and I couldn’t even touch myself any more without it being uncomfortable. The guy didn’t really understand and seemed to feel that i was using it as an excuse to stop trying, which wasn’t true.

 

Another thing that happened after the dildo episode was that the wonderful, spaced out floaty episodes I used to experience (not involving any sort of drug), in which my breathing would suddenly change, as though my diaphragm were being pushed way down into my belly, and my eyes tugged upwards, suddenly stopped.

 

Those had been magical experiences during which I would feel a certain low-level arousal without even touching myself (in fact, touching myself seemed to kill it dead). There was no urgency about this feeling, no need to take it to the next level, no need for it to peak and extinguish itself.  I could have stayed in this state for hours and it often felt as though I had. And it would feel as though there were a window in my forehead through which I could see things at will; or that I could see the room through my closed eyelids.

 

I have never had this experience, which is My idea of sexual, when I am in an intimate situation with another person. It felt as though all my chakras were aligning or something like that. And, strangely, after such an episode, my bladder would be incredibly full, which felt good, even if I hadn’t drunk much water beforehand (I barely drink alcohol, as i just don’t enjoy the taste, so the experiences were nothing to do with that either). 

 

I have no idea whether the cessation of these beautiful experiences was a consequence of penetrating myself with the dildo or not, and the suggestion that it was might seem ridiculous; yet i can’t deny having the feeling that, in inserting something that was approaching big enough to compare to the size of a (can i say the word on here?), I had destroyed some innocent part of myself that was connected to the mystical. How far-fetched and hippie does that sound, right?! 😊

 

Sometimes I feel that I lost those experiences because I compromised my integrity - I lied to myself and went against my true nature as an asexual in order to fit in - to use an ironic turn of phrase. But, even while wondering about this, i would genuinely feel that I Wasn’t asexual and get annoyed when someone suggested i was.

 

Anyway, my relationship ended and I found myself googling asexuality again, out of the blue. This time i saw a definition that didn’t seem to suggest I had to have zero interest in being touched in any way, shape or form, including a kiss or a hug, in order to call myself asexual. I felt a twinge of hope, and I decided to join Aven.

 

Having done so, I’ve discovered some definitions that seem to describe things I have noticed in myself, and wondered about: the fact that I have fantasies that mostly don’t involve myself; fantasies in which the man’s pleasure seems to be what arouses me (in however small a way that is, compared with “normal” folks); the fact that I have sexual dreams about someone before I really know him, only for these dreams and spontaneous fantasies to die away after we first kiss, to be replaced by a greater need for something else - a deep sensual bond with that person...kissing, cuddling, being wrapped around each other, being sensual in a way that feels sexual to me but doesn’t involve the usual sexual activities and is more hypnotic and mystical. 

 

When I am feeling this way with a man, sexual activity feels like something that detracts from it. If the guy stops holding me to do something sexual, i feel the loss of him, and my body feels so cold without him. It feels like a poor exchange!

 

I have never had any desire to have sex with someone to scratch an itch - probably because I have never had an insistent itch! There needs to be a bond, a story, there. I fantasise - sometimes it works and often it doesn’t, same with reading erotic fiction, etc., but my arousal feels self-contained, something I can take care of when the feeling surprises me by cropping up, and then afterwards I wonder what That was all about and get on with my day. 

 

I have often dreamt of being part of a little polyamorous family unit, in which I don’t need to have sex but we are all bonded deeply and sensually, but I doubt magical relationships like that can happen in the real world. Jealousy kicks in. People don’t believe that you truly want to honour and celebrate the love they have for each other, and are actually trying to undermine what they have, so you can have it for yourself. I can understand that, but it’s such a shame. I’ve even imagined being in a loving sensual family with two gay men!

 

I also feel that I could be happy with a guy who had no interest in sex as long as I did see him as my kind of sexual, because he wanted to kiss and cuddle and caress and allow me to acknowledge his masculinity - even in its flaccid form, although I don’t care about being touched intimately myself (and feeling the pressure to become aroused while actually feeling totally disconnected from the touch has really put me off). We could each have our private time with our own fantasies without either of us believing we’re were betraying the other in some way, and we could talk and laugh about them if we so wanted.  

 

I sometimes wonder if, having such a relationship, with a deep connection and zero pressure to perform sexually or feel sexual pleasure, I might actually start wanting to have sex with the guy because I felt so amazing around him and so accepted! But I think the most I would really want is to accept him inside me, as far as I could, and just snuggle and kiss like that. 

 

So i guess i’ve covered aegosexuality, fraysexuality and gray/demisexuslity there! Have I missed one?? Or am I sounding like someone who is really allosexual but with a physical problem?! I think only the me who didn’t know how to love and celebrate her unique self would have opted for the latter. 

 

menina

[alto]

Just be yourself.  You sound rad.

 

A poly relationship like that sounds totally possible.

[menina]

On 12/16/2022 at 8:00 PM, menina said:

People don’t believe that you truly want to honour and celebrate the love they have for each other, and are actually trying to undermine what they have, so you can have it for yourself

I was curious to look back at my post from a couple of months ago and, in so doing, I spotted that the above section could do with the addition of a few words. It should read:

 

“People don’t believe that you truly want to honour and celebrate the love they have for each other, and instead think that you are actually trying to undermine what they have, so that you can have it for yourself.”