I was just watching this random tv show and a couple characters kissed on it. I watch tv and movies all the time. I see kisses all the time. But for some reason, this kiss just made me realize that if I truly am asexual, and I think I am despite that being a very complicated realization that I am still processing, then there will be no more kisses for me.
As a person who identifies as asexual after decades of identifying as sexual (whatever the fuck that means), it just occurred to me that I’ll likely never kiss someone again.
How do I feel about that?
Weird. Maybe a little bit sad but that’s not really it. I’d say the emotion flowing through my veins is more confusion. Is confusion even an emotion? I’d say this feeling cocktail is 3 parts confusion, 1/2 part sadness, 1/2 part bemusement, and topped off with a splash of wistfulness and self-pity garnish. I call this cocktail nostalgia. You’ve probably had one before.
But maybe there’s also disbelief in there. My dating demon tries to convince me that I am just taking a vow of celibacy instead of actually being asexual. The former means there might be another kiss for me. But the latter feels closer to the truth.
Being raised on perpetually happy endings in ‘80s media left this permanent bee in my bonnet that keeps whispering and insisting that my magical meet-cute is just around the corner. And the worst part is that I find myself believing that asshole every single time; at least for a few minutes.
But then I remember the facts. I remember that it’s never worked out. I remember that I’ve tried hundreds of times. I remember that I’ve dated hundreds of women over multiple decades. I remember that they were all individuals. I remember that they were not all the same race or personality type or socio-economic group or age or any other way you want to split people up. I remember that despite all those differences, the result was always the same.
I shouldn’t have to tell you what the common denominator is.
You already know.
Despite tilting at so many different windmills, dating or romance never made me happy. Not real happiness, anyway. Sure, I had some laughs. But it always just ended up making me sad. And in a miracle akin to the parting of the red sea, I recognized that pattern was unhealthy and I actually stopped it.
Big deal. Anyone can stop smoking for a few weeks, right? Well, I haven’t had a date in over 4 years. Sticking this long to something healthy is unprecedented for me.
I usually cling to my unhealthy choices like I’m in love with them which is funny because I’ve never been in love.
And along with kissing, it looks like I never will be.
And that’s ok.
It’s just sometimes I see things that remind me of the past.
And they shake my resolve for a second.
But just a second. Or three.
And that’s ok, too.
I can look back.
You can look back.
We can look back.
Let’s just remember to move forward.