Coming out as Asexual
There is no editing to this blog. No flow. No syntax. Just the thoughts, reflections and pain, straight from my memories to the page. I’m sure the message will be there, the sentiment will be felt. It just won’t be pretty.
Hide and Seek: The Cedar Closet Chronicles
My first sexual experience was when I was eight. I remember kissing a random boy that was at one of my mothers very “free” parties in a cedar closet. I still go there when I smell cedar. I don’t remember wanting or not wanting to do it. We were kids and we were curious. Sexual appropriateness was never a thing in her house.
Snowbanks Are for Sleds, Not This Shit
The next time was when I was nine and truthfully, all I remember is being thrown down on a snowbank on a snow covered abandoned tennis court in the middle of a wide open space. After that, it’s all blank, up until the walk home which was cold, sad and painful. I am happy that I don’t remember the details and never plan on exploring that further. I have only told a few close friends. Never my parents. I just live with it.
The Couch Where Innocence Went to Die
The next unwelcome sexual experience was when I was 11-12. My friend’s dad and next door neighbor and my father’s friend would have me lay on the couch next to him and finger me as the whole family including his wife sat watching tv. It was not welcomed or pleasing in any way. Occasionally his wife would have me sit up and she would brush my hair having no idea what was occurring right next to her. It was like some weird little cult. It wasn’t a one off either, it occurred multiple times over a period of time.
The feeling that brings on is shame. Deep, painful, feel like I’m going to throw up thinking about it shame. He was my friend’s dad, our next door neighbor, my dad’s friend. It felt like an out of body experience. I don’t believe it was consent even though I put myself in a position for it to happen. I wasn’t even a teen. I was a child. How much responsibility do I hold?
After a while I did tell my dad. Small bits, not the gory details. His response was to stay away from them. I did, it stopped and I moved on. Buried deep with all the other unpleasantness I don’t face.
First Penis, No Thanks
His son came over to our house a couple of years later and when I left the room and came back he had his pants down. He insisted I look at it and touch it. Thirteen years old I saw and touched my first penis in no way by choice.
Going Through the Motions
The others up until my first ex were basic but I never really enjoyed it or initiated it, I just kind of thought that was the thing to do. It seemed to drive people and they would do anything for it. Take it by force, take advantage of children, cheat. I’m sure people do it for love or expression or satisfaction but I personally just don’t get it or desire it at all!
Kissing on the other hand—and not French kissing, that is gross.
Deep lip kisses and deep hugs. Oooooo. I love those.
Anyway, on with the story.
Sex Every Day Keeps the Self-Worth Away
My daughter’s father insisted we have sex every single day and if we didn’t have sex, we fought. In six years I only didn’t have sex 32 times. 30 of those days were after I had a baby. The other two were after huge fights.
He flagrantly cheated and I put up with every bit of it very pathetically but that’s for another time. I feel like I had sex against my will pretty much every day for six years. I won’t say raped. It wasn’t aggressive. He just knew I didn’t want to and we did it anyway. EVERY SINGLE DAY!!!
He would insist on things like eating me out while I was on my period. Like pull the string aside and go for it. What the actual fuck!! How is that pleasurable for either of us but it happened, every month. Once again I don’t understand at all! Why was it so important to do that under those circumstances? Why was sex so important that he would cheat on me, come home and have sex with me? I didn’t understand but my self esteem was nonexistent and I thought he was where my heart was no matter what he did to me.
Five Years of Nope
After him I went five years without sex after having two short term relationships that both ended with cheating. Bringing up the question again, why is sex so important that you would hurt someone so much over it just to have it?
Marriage and Disappointment
After five years I met my ex. From the first time we had sex I felt uncomfortable and knew that our sexual relationship wasn’t going to hold passion and understanding and sensuality and care for my past. I married him anyway because I was tolerating it ok up until the day and thought once we got married and he was my husband he would care enough to help me overcome my hang ups slowly, with compassion and care and love and respect but when he tried to finger me one night about 5 years in I stopped him and tried to tell him the story of why I didn’t like that. Something I had never told anyone the details of.
Your Problems, Not Mine
I was only a few sentences in and he responded with “your problems are your problems, not mine, I just won’t do that anymore” and left the room. We never talked about it again but from that day on I cringed every time we had sex. He didn’t deserve my body. He didn’t deserve that from me. But, he was my husband and sex is a marital obligation so the next five years really sucked with unemotional, going through the motions, sex and we grew farther and farther apart.
Wonder Woman, Wrong Man
We went to New York for our 10th anniversary and I dressed up like Wonder Woman—his favorite—and we had the best sex out of 10 years. He was different with me in that costume. He looked at me differently and touched me differently. To me, he wasn’t having sex with me. But he was caring and soft in a way he hadn’t been before. I felt very strange and kind of cheated on even though it was me.
That 10th anniversary was the last time we had sex even though we were married for seven more years. He didn’t initiate it and neither did I.
Sexless but Legally Bound
We tried again on our next anniversary and I thought it would be over super quick after going without for a year but the grand finale never came. I had in my mind he was going to just look at me naked and blow. But after almost an hour of trying, we gave up. He didn’t want to talk about it. And we never talked about it again.
At one point during the next six years I went to him and asked if he wanted to talk about why we never had sex and he said “my wife doesn’t like sex and I have to deal with it” and got up and left the room.
Our marital relationship had turned into being roommates but other than sex, still held all of the elements of being married and not being roommates. It was confusing and frustrating and I had to leave.
The Final Realization
It has been 12 years now since the last time and I think my shit is closed back up and I am a virgin again.
I had a hysterectomy when I was 29 and only did hormone replacement for 10 years so I don’t know if it is the lack of estrogen or the trauma but I don’t see myself ever having sex again and am coming out as ASEXUAL.
So, what is Asexual?
It’s different than celibacy.
• By definition: “Celibacy is a choice to abstain from sexual activity, while asexuality is a sexual orientation where an individual does not experience sexual attraction.
Asexual individuals can still experience romantic attraction, which is the desire for romantic relationships and emotional intimacy. Asexual individuals generally do not experience sexual attraction, meaning they don’t feel drawn to others in a sexual way.”
Now what?
My hoohaa doesn’t tingle when I see an attractive person, but I still don’t know if this is who I always was or who I became. Maybe I was born this way, like any other orientation that simply is. Or maybe the years of unwanted touch and hollow obligation shaped me into someone who can no longer feel desire the way others do.
Is it nature? Is it nurture? I don’t have that answer.
All I know is that this is my truth now—quiet, unashamed, and finally honest. And maybe that’s the most important thing any of us can do: stop trying to force ourselves into someone else’s definition of normal and start asking the real questions.
Who are we when no one else is watching? And who might we have been if no one had ever taught us to be ashamed of what we don’t want?
🍽️ Recipe: Deceptive Dessert Parfaits
Looks like a sweet classic—turns out to be something unexpected.
🍨 What It Looks Like
A layered parfait that resembles a traditional dessert—creamy pudding, jammy fruit, and crunchy topping.
What It Really Is
Savory yogurt, roasted vegetables, and herbed breadcrumbs—disguised as a dessert but unapologetically itself.
📝 Ingredients
1 cup plain Greek yogurt (or any unsweetened yogurt)
1 tsp lemon juice
Salt & pepper
1/2 cup roasted cherry tomatoes (juicy and jammy)
1/4 cup caramelized onions or roasted bell peppers
1/4 cup toasted panko breadcrumbs mixed with fresh herbs
Olive oil drizzle
Optional: a tiny pinch of smoked paprika
🥄 Instructions
Season the Yogurt:
In a bowl, stir the lemon juice, a drizzle of olive oil, and salt & pepper into the yogurt until smooth and creamy.Prepare the Veggies:
If not already roasted, toss cherry tomatoes with oil and a pinch of salt and roast at 400°F for about 15 minutes until soft and jam-like.Layer It Up:
Spoon 2 tablespoons of yogurt into the bottom of a clear glass or jar.
Add a layer of roasted tomatoes.
Another layer of yogurt.
A layer of caramelized onions or peppers.
Top with the herbed breadcrumbs.
Finish:
Drizzle a little olive oil over the top and dust with smoked paprika if you’d like.
🪞 Why this recipe?
This is the story of a life that looked “normal” on the outside but held an unexpected truth underneath.
A reminder that what you see isn’t always what something—or someone—is.
📝 Journal Prompt
When did something in your life look one way on the outside but feel completely different inside?
Write about a time you felt pressured to pretend—whether it was about love, desire, happiness, or belonging.
What did you need in that moment that you didn’t get?
If you could speak to that past version of yourself now, what would you say?
🧘♀️ Mindfulness Moment
A Moment of Gentle Witnessing
Find a quiet spot. Close your eyes and take three slow breaths.
Picture yourself standing in front of a mirror, not to judge or critique—but simply to witness.
See all the layers:
The version of you that tried to blend in.
The version that survived what no one saw.
The version that finally told the truth.
Imagine gently placing a hand on your own heart and whispering:
“I see you. You don’t have to pretend anymore.”
Stay here as long as you need.
