Only recently have I come to terms with my identity as an asexual. For years, I tried so hard to figure out what was wrong with me. It was confusing, a mystery and I often felt as if I was seriously impaired. After all, how can I blame myself? In a society so obsessed with sex and intimacy, I had no way of reconciling myself with the standard that had been laid out for me as a male. Especially when no one, not even my GP or therapist, had a single clue as to what I was.  

Books, movies, social media, art- sex and sex coded imagery were everywhere. Drowning in this ocean of red, I felt incomplete, as if I had some unprecedented defect that only I was a prisoner to. Discovering the label “asexual” helped a bit, but came with its own challenges. Now responsible for justifying my existence, I was faced with, “why did you decide to be that?”, as if I’d chosen to make my life more difficult. Or, “just wait until you try it, you’ll change your mind then.” Unknown to me then, these repetitive experiences had taken a serious toll on me and my sense of self-worth.  

After many years, I have finally come to terms with my asexuality. Not only do I see it as less of a problem, but it has taught me that there are so many other ways to enrich my life than society would have you believe. I wish more people understood that sexuality can be a real struggle, especially for young men struggling with our current definition of masculinity- and that sex and love don’t always go hand in hand.