I’m demisexual, and I don’t need you to save me.
I’m demisexual, which – if you don’t know – basically means that under most circumstances, I need to feel some kind of emotional closeness to experience sexual desire for another human being. In short, I generally only become attracted to someone if she is either a close friend of if she has earned my respect. And I say “she” because I’m also heterosexual. Demisexuality has absolutely nothing to do with orientation.
It’s been known to happen where a woman says something remarkably brilliant and insightful after I’ve only known her for a few brief moments, and I’ve thought “Wow! She’s hot! I wish I could make out with her.” But that’s the key. The lady in question has to do something. Simple physical attractiveness doesn’t do it for me. In fact, it’s almost irrelevant as I’ve found myself attracted to just about every body type. So to make it simple for you.
Looking at her…
…produces the same amount of sexual desire as looking at this.
Which is to say none at all. I don’t know this woman. I’ve never interacted with her. So I can’t feel anything. Now, if the nice young lady in the bikini were to sit down and talk to me, and if I discovered that she’s witty and charming with well thought-out opinions on a wide variety of topics, suddenly I would be interested in a one night stand.
In general, what this means is that I’m only attracted to people I consider friends, though that’s not necessarily a prerequisite. Now, people hear this, and the first thing they ask is “Does that mean you want to sleep with all your friends?” No, of course not. Like anyone else, I need chemistry. There are some women whom I consider to be friends, just friends and nothing else; there are other women whom I consider to be friends, but if they ever asked, I would be willing to have sex with them. Demisexuality is about the mind not the body.
But it also goes a little deeper than that. You see, demisexuals tend to have varying degrees of interest in love and relationships. Some of us have no real interest in finding a partner unless we meet someone truly special. Others have a general craving for love and intimacy but find ourselves uninterested in just about everyone we meet. The situation is analogous to being hungry and finding yourself in a room full of food you don’t like. Yeah, you could force yourself to wolf it down, but you won’t enjoy it. Many of us oscillate between the two, going through periods where we want a relationship but can’t seem to find a suitable partner, followed by periods where we’re just not interested.
Which brings me to the reason I wrote this blog: when someone tells you “I don’t want a relationship right now,” believe them. Don’t reply with some bullshit like “Oh, you’re just feeling depressed.” Don’t say “Oh, you’re just not over that last break up. Your sex-drive will come back, you’ll see.” That’s the same as telling a someone who is gay or bisexual that their attraction to members of their own gender is just a phase.
I’m debating whether I want to share any personal stories that have led to my general lack of interest in relationships right now. It’s not really that I mind the Internet knowing MY experiences, but my experiences involve other people and their privacy is absolutely vital to me. I’m trying to decide if there is a way to do so that will leave me adequately certain that if I share a personal experience I had with someone, no one will know who I’m talking about. (Except possibly the person who shared that experience with me).
Suffice it to say that for the moment, I want to be single. I don’t know when that will change or even if it will change. And you know what? That is just fine. I don’t need you to save me. I don’t need you to “restore my faith in romance” I’m not depressed. I’m not cynical. I’m not unhappy with my life. The choice to remain single is perfectly valid.