A Word from the Closet (There's Something for Everyone)

Hey everyone! On this, the last day of Pride Month 2014, it’s time to tell my story.

The TL;DR: I’m demisexual. There’s a short general definition here. If this bothers you, you can pretty much ignore it: it’s a “mythical” or “invisible” sexuality because it blends in with other sexualities so easily.

Though middle school, high school, and most of college, I had the sense that there was something really wrong with me. It seemed like everyone was interested in someone in a romantic or sexual way—a celebrity, someone they knew, lots of people—and I just…wasn’t. In hindsight, I’m really glad I went to such academically competitive schools, because I think if people had had fewer conversations about John Marshall, Beowulf, favorite authors, and social justice, I’d have felt even more out of place. As it was, I could mostly ignore the difference, though it hurt when I couldn’t.

I need to admit that I sometimes lied, and the worst part is that I only did it to my best friends because that was the only time I cared what other people thought. I would take a person or a situation that I “knew” most girls my age would react to and say something that implied I was interested. I should have known I didn’t need to do this: I’ve never had the kinds of friends who would have been anything but supportive if I just honestly said that Matt Damon did nothing for me (other than act well in some good movies), and I still feel bad about it.

And the thing was, I wasn’t entirely disinterested in guys. It’s just that, instead of imagining kissing or cuddling, I imagined hanging out and talking, finding places where we agreed and teasing each other about where we disagreed. I wanted a deep kind of friendship like what I shared with my girlfriends, but with the extra possibility that something more might come of it down the line.

                                                                                                                         

Morocco put me through the self-reflective wringer. I had great friends and I learned so much, but at one point I got to a mental place that I hope I never get to again. The end result was positive, though. My friends helped me get over myself and my internalized misogyny, and, when I got back to the States, I was less concerned about how I was different. So I didn’t think random men (or women) on the street were hot. So I didn’t want to bang the actors and artists I admired. So what?

In the fall of 2011 I was doing research for a project in which I was analyzing Sherlock Holmes from BBC’s Sherlock. It was a bit like playing the Jesus game on Wikipedia. Articles and blog posts about sociopathy led to mental illness led to sexuality (okay, so as usual I was doing more research than strictly necessary), and on one page was this word I’d never seen before: “demisexual.” I did what I always do when I find a word I don’t know: I plugged it into Google.

I was on the computer until my next class. I felt stunned, but I also felt incredibly light, like this weight had been lifted off of me. There was a word for me—I wasn’t the only one, and enough other people like me existed that we had a word!

I’d never felt like I was missing something, but now I actually felt whole. After a couple weeks getting used to it all, I told my parents, with varying degrees of success, and then I told a couple of my best friends. I thought a lot about who I told, when, and why. Mostly I didn’t tell more people because I thought it wasn’t as big a deal as coming out as gay, bi, or asexual might be. Being demisexual doesn’t change much as far as other people are concerned, so why put myself through a dozen weird conversations?

But I’ve never forgotten what it felt like when I found that word. How right I felt, how normal and light and free. Demisexuality doesn’t get a lot of press (hey, I’d never heard of it in 21½ years!), though I do see it come up on tumblr every so often. I know my blog doesn’t go far, but I have felt for a while that I needed to get this out there, just in case someone like me is looking for evidence that they’re not alone. I never knew when the right time would be—and I’ve decided to stop waiting.

Thanks for reading!

But Sarah, you’re always talking about Benedict Cumberbatch/Natalie Dormer/Neil Gaiman/other famous person!

Yep. They’re smart, interesting, talented people. Given the chance, I’d love to sit down and talk with them about their work and get to know them. Doesn’t mean I’m interested romantically or sexually.

Wait, but you said you actually wanted to see Magic Mike.

And I want to see the next season of Orange is the New Black and I want to go out clubbing and I want to see St. Peter’s Basilica and I want to publish a book with a major publisher. Next?

So now that I know you, I know everything about demisexuality!

Nope. Just like any other sexuality, there’s a lot of diversity. People who identify as demisexual may have very different approaches to their romantic and sexual lives. Go forth and broaden your sample size!

Right, well, this is awkward.

It really doesn’t have to be—I’m still the same person. Also, if you have questions, I would far rather have you ask me than go around with mistaken assumptions. I’ve been there, and it’s not a pretty place. If I really don’t want to answer, I’ll let you know.

Aren’t you a special snowflake…

Well, no two people are alike… Seriously, though, I don’t have time for you. Go troll yourself.