“Asexual man seeks asexual woman.”

I crinkled my forehead, and read the personal ad again.

What does this mean?

In biology I learned that worms and bacteria are asexual, men and women aren’t?

What would an asexual man want with an asexual woman?

Am I asexual?

Reading that one line in the personal ads on Craig’s List was an epiphany moment. I researched this “Asexual” thing and discovered that I solidly fit into the grey world of the “Asexual.”

It was a relief to have a label to call myself. I’m definitely not a Kinsey Type One, because I have no interest in boys. Being almost forty and single, is a bit problematic because people assume that if you’re not heterosexual then there’s only one other option.

Last time I visited my family, my grandma, aunts and a female cousin and I sat around the table, and they began trying to have a “coming out” conversation with me. I was horrified. I sat with my head bowed, playing with a napkin, while all the words swirled around me like cold water. I’m not into girls either.

I’ve learned not to waste time trying to explain that I’m not interested in having sex with people. They don’t get it. The concept of “the old maid” seems to have faded from our modern consciousness.

I’m amused by the whole “Asexual Pride” movement. Instead of using rainbows as a symbol, we use an ace of spades or a slice of cake. Ace is short for asexual, and an asexual would rather have a slice of cake than sex. I began wearing a black ring on my right hand middle finger. On the other hand, a ring on my middle finger would symbolize that I’m single, but on my right hand it says that I’m ‘happily single.’

I enjoy meeting up with other Aces and talking about Dr. Who, Red Dwarf, and environmental issues. About half of the people in the Ace club are either high-functioning Autistic folks or they have Asperger’s Syndrome. I kinda feel like the dumb kid at the table filled with computer programmers, lawyers, and Reedies. Once we discussed our love of Portland, because it is a very “geek friendly” city.

If I had been accepted as an asexual person years ago, it would have saved me from dating people I didn’t like, just to fit in. It would have saved me from running to a church that controlled how I dated, so I could hide behind God, the way that gay men used to hide behind fake wives. I went through a desperate phase where I read and watched pornography in order to try to make myself into a sexual person. It was a tormenting experience. I just wanted to be normal, and accepted, but trying to change who I am, or hide my nature, didn’t work. Who knew an identity label could give me so much peace.