Words by: Bailey Parrôt
Art by: Bailey Parrôt

If you’d rather step on LEGO than participate in a one-night stand with a stranger, then you might be in the right place. 

When all my friends started having sex in high school, I felt the typical twinge of jealousy — a kind of fear of missing out (FOMO) that cut deeper than simply missing out on a party. Gossiping about relationships helped us form bonds where too much information no longer existed. Having sex felt like an express ticket to that closeness. There are obvious problems with having this mindset as a teenager. 

Luckily, my FOMO was outweighed by my aversion to casual sex. I’ve discovered, through many attempts at intimacy, that meaningless sex just isn’t for me.

I bailed. Many times. Some might call me cruel for leaving so many blue balls, but let’s be honest, that’s not a real thing. Making out would be all fun and games until things became more serious, and I realised I had no connection with the person in front of me. I wasn’t horny anymore. I certainly wasn’t enjoying myself, and so for a long time, I thought I must be Asexual. I saw my friends leaving bars with complete strangers, finding instant attraction in random men and women as they danced in clubs and having incredible first dates where sparks were flying all night long. For the life of me, I couldn’t understand how they could feel these feelings for somebody they had only just met.

I tried online dating after high school. I met a range of people, thinking maybe gender was the problem, but it made no difference. These occasions never felt like a date to me, but more like a new friendship. Each time, I would blame myself for not feeling anything romantic and for inevitably rejecting any advances.

It turns out the issue was the people I was with — not that they were bad people, they were perfectly normal, lovely people — but the strangers sitting across from me were just that, strangers. They didn’t know me, and I didn’t know them. With this revelation came the realisation that I was likely Demisexual. 

I’d previously heard of demisexuality online, but up until this point, I just thought I struggled to differentiate between platonic and romantic feelings. Listening to other people who identified as demisexual through social media helped me explain my experiences and feel understood.

So, what does this mean? For me, it means dating can be difficult. My trajectory for a relationship doesn’t always align with others, and that can be frustrating for both parties. It means I’ve been let down by people close to me when trust that I thought was there was broken. But it also means I’ve had some amazing relationships with incredible people. Not every experience has been perfect, but I finally saw that I could experience the connection and intimacy all my friends were raving about in high school.

In the end, you don’t need to have the experience to join in when your friends are gossiping about sex. If they’re real friends, they won’t judge or tease you for your inexperience — sometimes they may even be jealous of you! Your journey with your sexuality may take time, and you may find yourself bouncing around the spectrum to no end. Just remember to take life and sex at your own pace. As you explore, you’ll discover what you’re comfortable with and what turns you on. When who you slept with won’t be a question, but something you say from your chest!