In Defense of Demisexuality

Obviously, I am obsessed with sex and the politics of sex. I spend large chunks of my day staring at arguments about sex, kink, and gender. Equally immoderate chunks of my night are spent writing about those things. Sometimes, I even have sex. I think it’s serious business. But I have a dark, secret heart hiding under my patriarchy-smashin’ words and thoughts. For reasons I don’t understand and can’t explain, I’m very seriously disposed to long-term, committed monogamy. Recently, and even more depressingly, that monogamy has been with hetereosexual cis men. I am the worst and most boring sexual revolutionary.

Thankfully, even this identification is something that can still get you into fights as long as you call it “demisexuality.” Haven’t heard of it? It’s the orientation that’s sweeping the nation! Or, rather, the social justice blogosphere, Tumblrverse and other non-locations. It’s sexy! It’s exciting! It’s controversial and people are angry about it!

Demisexuals are those who “do not experience sexual attraction unless they form a strong emotional connection with someone,” and it is “more commonly seen in but by no means confined to romantic relationships.” This is the definition I’ve heard most often, and it’s the definition I’m going to use. In fact, it’s the definition I do use. I identify pretty strongly as demisexual which is where my problems begin.

Charles wrote a post about the internet giving us new words and identifications. That post is partially about me, because within the last year, I came across the term and immediately saw myself in it. I’d been trying to explain my experience of desire to Charles for months, and there it was, written in someone else’s hand. It was a  revelation. I was finally able to actually succinctly explain who I am and what I feel. It’s important to me and it’s a term that makes my history and behavior make sense.

So, I care about demisexuality and want to defend it from detractors for myself and for other demisexuals, but also because I think the arguments being leveled against it are bad and wrong. So let’s look at some of those, shall we?

Demisexuality Is Fake
The common anti-demisexual argument is that demisexuality is not a real “thing,” is not a special or interesting enough to be worthy of distinction, or is just an attempt to “queer the straights.” This queering would allow heteros and normies access to the sweet, delicious queerness that is so coveted in feministy and social justice circles, despite those hets being unsexy, normative lamers.

This post from Thought Catalog does a pretty good job of phrasing these arguments if you’d like to read them from the horse’s mouth. I think they’re pretty wrongity-wrong.

McDonovan comments that “demisexual people are confused” about what “demisexual” means and use many conflicting definitions. Zie seems to suggest that demisexuality isn’t a thing worth talking about because it’s an identity that lacks a consistent definition. Ignoring the fact that terms like “genderfluid” don’t have consistent definitions almost on purpose, this is still a pretty vacuous argument. Because there sure do exist standard definitions of the word. And if people are using conflicting definitions it says nothing about the veracity of the identification and everything about the lifecycle of a term that is still under discussion. Also, this shouldn’t be news but sometimes people on the internet play fast and loose with their words. Maybe they’re confused, maybe they’re inarticulate, maybe they’re not actually demisexuals, maybe they’re part of a vast cabal that’s trying to discredit demisexuality. I don’t know and it doesn’t matter because none of that means there’s no such thing as a demisexual.

The next issue McDonovan finds with demisexuality is that “most of the population” fits the fairly accurate definition zie has managed to scrounge from the conflicting ones. This notion that demisexuality is broad enough that everyone fits betrays a serious misunderstanding about the kind of feelings demisexuality describes. There is, or can be, a difference between being sexually attracted to a person and actually wanting or being willing to have sex with them. You can say “I’m attracted to you but I wouldn’t actually want to have sex with you,” and demisexuality lives inside this distinction.

I think it’s likely that many, even most Americans would only have sex with people they feel emotionally connected to. I think that’s a fair assessment. But it isn’t a description of demisexuality. Demisexuality is about desire and arousal, not just sex and who you do it with. It’s not merely that I’m only interested in having sex with people that I love, it’s also that I feel a complete absence of desire or sexual feelings toward everyone else. Ever. What makes me demisexual is that absence. What makes me demisexual is that I’ve only ever been sexually attracted to three people in my whole life. My partner is sexually attracted to that many people during particularly sexy bus rides. And you can tell me that most of the population is like me, but I just don’t think you’re right.

And, luckily, I have evidence backing my belief. Namely, porn. If most of the population were demisexual, there would not be pornography, at least not like there is now. One of the reasons why I knew I was demisexual is that I have never been aroused, in the slightest, by pornography or erotica, even if the porn was high quality and/or of stuff I like. I can’t think of strangers sexually in a way that affects me. It just doesn’t work. But porn wouldn’t exist if people weren’t stimulated by images of strange people doing naked things. Not to mention the tremendous number of images of sex and sexuality in the media. If everyone were demisexual, sex wouldn’t sell. But it does. As such, not only is demisexuality an orientation, but it’s an orientation distinct from the way most people experience sex and desire.

But, let’s take a step back for a moment and let’s imagine that the confusion is true. Let’s imagine that the word “demisexual” really does mean “a person who experiences desire the same way as almost everyone in the world.” That doesn’t actually invalidate the word in any way. In fact, I argue that we’d still need and use it. We need it like we need “heterosexual” and “cisgendered.” We need words that precisely describe the norm just as much as we need precise descriptions of deviations from that norm. If we accept this, then claims of demisexuality are safe from labels of “queering the straights” or “special snowflaking.” Even in its most debased form, the word remains valid and a useful identification. Again, I do think that the word is more clear and specific than that debased definition, but the point is it’s never not useful.

Being Demisexual is Not Being LGBT
I’ve seen some folks get angry at notions that demisexuals might try to claim LGBT/queer identities for themselves, and even might invade and “invalidate” LGBT/queer spaces.

There are things that I agree with in this argument, and things that I don’t. I want to be careful. First of all, asexuals and people on the asexuality spectrum are literally not necessarily LGBT. You can be a straight (or heteroromantic) asexual. This isn’t particularly controversial. But I do think that LGBT organizations and movements and sex-pos organizations and movements should strive to better include asexuals and people on the asexuality spectrum. So, that means demisexuals should be included, too. This is doubly true because one can very easily be a demisexual queer. Like Your Humble Editor.

It’s also true that demisexuality has to do with how and when you desire, while being queer often has to do with who you desire. And those are two different things. And maybe sometimes two different things get to have two different spaces. Maybe queer spaces, depending on what they’re trying to accomplish, shouldn’t necessarily feel pressure to include heterosexual or heteroromantic demisexuals. I think that might actually be okay. What isn’t okay is the anger with which these demisexuals are excluded and the derision that accompanies it. Demisexuals also have few spaces of their own, which is unfortunate. But these are problems that can be solved. For now, though, I will merely state that the relationship between LGBT people and asexual spectrum people is one that’s fraught and could stand to be improved.

Demisexuals Are Not Oppressed
The last common complaint about demisexuals and demisexuality is that demisexuals claim that their sexuality is an axis of oppression. McDonovan’s post and this Womanist Musings post angrily, but pretty effectively, make this argument.

And, perhaps shockingly, I agree. I do not experience “demisexual oppression.” No one has ever reacted to it with hatred or disgust. In the four years I’ve been demisexual, I have not even had it get in the way of my finding fulfilling and happy sexual relationships. I’d be very interested to hear other demisexuals explain why they feel their sexuality causes them oppression, but I find it absent in my own life. The mistake demisexuality’s detractors make
is that they take wrong or mistaken claims of demisexual oppression and transform them into notions that demisexuality is itself somehow bad, stupid, useless, or fake.

The fact that demisexuals aren’t oppressed doesn’t mean demisexuality is uncomplicated, though. It’s strange, and sometimes actually difficult to be a demisexual in a more-sexual world. For example, I wonder what it’s like to be a demisexual searching for a partner. Does OkCupid even work for demisexuals? Will people think you’re leading them on, being a bitch, or a cocktease, or that your standards are just too high? I don’t know, but it seems like a tight spot to be in.

These difficulties multiply in feminist and sex positive spaces. I intend to talk about this in much greater detail later. For now, though, I’ll leave off with an example: demisexuality made it easy for me to slip into sex-negativity and slut-shaming. It took me a long time to understand that casual sex can be a morally okay and emotionally safe thing for people to do. Sex outside of a committed relationship sounds very unappealing and possibly dangerous to me. I had to learn that just because that sort of sex would probably be bad for me didn’t mean that it was bad for everyone who had it or that people having it were messed up. Even now, it can be hard for me to understand why, for example, my partner might be interested in fostering a sexual relationship with someone he likes, but who is emotionally distant. To me, it seems so awful and bad. I have to remind myself that he’s not like me, step back, and trust him.

Being demisexual amongst people whose sexuality is closer to normal can be tricky. It can be hard to figure out exactly what and where your differences are and how to deal with them when they arise. But what matters most is that those differences do exist. It’s not always easy to be demisexual, but it is a real way to be. Even if it’s not an axis of oppression, even if can be difficult to define, demisexuality remains legitimate, valid, and worthy of respect as an orientation and identity.

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Comments

  1. Anonymoose says:

    Hi, on your point about Demisexual opression, is it possible for those who identify as demisexual because outside of after being in a commited relationship for a few months, they are pretty much identical to a sex-repulsed asexual to experience asexual oppression?

  2. Demisexualitry is just a word to explain how some people are driven and or turned on. Its basically our ability to want to screw someone. Some folks are easily attracted to many women or men, depending. I know a lot of men who are pick up artists and they are all basically very attracted for sexual purposes to just about any woman they meet. I however am not. Have you ever seen a woman, say a beautiful woman, walk by a dozen men–their heads turn. I’ve learned to mimic that behavior in a crowd. I just don’t feel it. However, I love sex with someone I love. If in a situation where I have sex with someone I don’t have feelings for, I really do not enjoy it.

  3. Demisexual...or Asexual says:

    Hi, this post is pretty old, but I wanted to comment, anyhow, specifically on the “demisexual oppression”. I both agree and disagree with you that it does not exist. On one hand, it’s true that most people do not react with the anger or violence that the LGBT community receives. It’s also much easier to live as a demisexual or as an asexual without hiding or sharing the fact that you are demisexual/asexual – after all, it refers specifically to intimacy/sex, which is something only discussed with potential or current partners and perhaps very close friends/family members.

    On the other hand, while I haven’t felt “oppressed”, per se, when I discuss my intimacy choices (which I do very rarely), I do feel ostracized. My mother, in particular, has absolutely no understanding for my lack of sex drive. She’s the type of woman who is incredibly comfortable with her own sexuality, and who previous to being in a long-term, committed marriage had no problem sleeping with multiple men. She even still jokes about sleeping with “sexy” famous men (which, of course, she would never actually do – she loves my father and would never seek intimacy outside their marriage). She has kindly (I’m not being sarcastic, she really did say it in a kind way) told me that I have a problem because I don’t want to jump every cute guy I see. Even friends (including some who have never had a sexual relationship) who do not necessarily “sleep around” but who have an immediate sexual attraction to their “type” (even if they do not act upon it) think that my lack of sex drive/desires for complete strangers is odd.

    Few people are particularly cruel or mean about it, but do make it clear that they think my sexuality (or lack thereof) indicates that there is something wrong with me, and that I need to have it fixed. Unfortunately, a few men *are* cruel about it, to the point where they believe that I am simply playing “hard to get”, and simply need to be convinced or forced to have sex with them. However, I believe this is not due to my demisexuality (or asexuality), but because they look for reasons to wield sexual power over others, and my lack of sex drive makes me an easy target. After all, no amount of cajoling or foreplay will ever convince me to sleep with someone I have no emotional attachment to – in fact, it will probably just completely turn me off both emotionally and sexually – so the only option to get me to have sex is by force. For these particular men, I think my lack of sexuality is actually a turn on.

    Overall, while I have not felt necessarily oppressed, for a long time I did not understand why I wasn’t “normal” like everyone else. I was sure there was something wrong with me because everyone else seemed to be sexually active and/or wanted to be sexually active. For instance, while my friends would giggle about celebs that they would want to bang, the most I could say was that I thought so-and-so was attractive. When I was younger, this usually resulted in others simply thinking I was a “prude”. Heck, even my “sex is only for marriage” religious friends had discussed their wild desires for sex, saying how difficult it was to abstain. The only people who had ever reacted as though my lack of sexual desire was normal was another demisexual (she was the one who actually introduced me to the term), and the girls who pretended to have no sex drive because sex was a sin (I’m still in touch with two of those girls, and, ironically, both of them ended up pregnant outside of a relationship).

    I’m very glad, however, that you seem to have not encountered this. It’s not a nice feeling thinking that you’re inherently broken or that the way you’re sexually attracted to people is the “wrong” way. Not oppression, exactly, but more a severe lack of acceptance.

    • This has been my experience as well. Thank you for sharing. I don’t consider myself oppressed, but I do have a similar experience with my mother, who does not understand and thinks I just need to go to the doctor. I never could understand how everyone else seemed to easily just fall into relationships with other people, while I poured so much effort into the only person I had ever been remotely interested in, and failed because he wasn’t as interested in me. I assumed that everyone had that level of difficulty in finding someone that they were attracted to, and that the chances of that one person finding someone who was equally attracted to them had worse odds than winning the lottery. It didn’t make sense to me that so many people had significant others. The math didn’t work out.

      Under a lot of societal pressure to date, because that’s what normal people do, I did eventually find somebody. There was a lot of pressure early on to get physical, which didn’t interest me, but I thought that was what I was supposed to do. We dated for two months before I finally gave in and had sex with him, though I do not remember our first time at all. I remember thinking during that time that consent meant that you wanted to have sex, and that wanting to have sex meant that you had decided to have sex. I had no understanding that wanting to have sex meant enthusiastically wanting to have sex, not just making up your mind to do it even though you really would rather not.

      I married him. I thought that sex was a novelty and he’d eventually not expect it anymore. Again, assuming that he was like me. (At this point, I still had NO clue that my sexuality was not “normal.”) We’ve been married for almost fourteen years. We basically have a sexless marriage, which is fine with me because I don’t enjoy sex. I actually think it’s pretty gross, to be honest. Not so fair to my husband, but it works for me just fine. Our marriage is not great, mainly because I don’t want a husband. I wanted a roommate at the time, but now I make enough money that I don’t need a roommate, so I just put up with him being in my house. We have a child together, or we would have divorced many years ago. I have no motivation for a “happy” marriage, because whenever things improve, he wants more sex, so I sabotage it to avoid the sex.

      Advice I’ve gotten on how to fix our marriage includes having sex even if I don’t feel like it, because once I start, I’ll get in the mood (seems to be good advice for most people, but doesn’t work in my case), or go to a therapist/talk to a doctor because there must be something wrong with me. So yeah, people try to tell me I’m broken, but I honestly don’t believe that. I tell my mother that I hate being married mostly because I hate sex and she just says, “well you need to figure that out!” It’s taken me many years to discover that my sexual identity is not “normal.” And while I do not feel oppressed, I definitely feel misunderstood!

  4. Thank you. I have never come across this term before. I thought I was broken. I was raised in a family that taught you should have lots of sex before marriage. I thought that was what you were suppose to do and so I spent years putting myself out there and not enjoying it. I never felt dirty or ashamed but could not figured out why I did not enjoy it. I felt broken and like a failure . I got married to a man who was intellectually my equal but the sex was not enjoyable and I thought it was just because of me. Years later I am now in a relationship that has only been going on two months and I can not get enough of him. He is always on my mind, I long to be near him, and the sex is amazing. He stimulates my mind and body and until I came across this article I did not understand what was different. That may be TMI but thank you. This makes sense to me now and I am glad to know that others feel the same as me.
    P.S. I met him on OK Cupid. LoL

  5. Thank you so much for sharing your mind. I had never heard of the term Demisexual until yesterday and feel that, finally, I am not alone in this. I have wondered at times if I was asexual because I have never been aroused by pictures of “hot” men or women, and absolutely nothing happened to me when I would search pornography. I thought that maybe pornography just isn’t geared towards women, and that this was a women’s issue. However, when I tried searching porn just for straight women, I had no reaction still. I also had no reactions to people on the street other than noticing they have the typically aesthetically pleasing face or body type. Did that make me desire and or want them? No. I know I wanted a partner, but the sex always seemed forced and for the other person. I never truly enjoyed it and I thought that maybe that’s just the way it is for a woman. That is until I truly fell in love. For the first time I’m my life I was feeling true sexual arousal. I even had my first orgasm. For the first time sex was also about me, it was a beautiful act between two people that truly cared for each other. Recently I found out my partner cheated on me awhile back and has lied/hidden it for some time. I can’t feel the sexual arousal towards him right now because all I feel is pain and confusion. I didn’t understand why having sex with a person he just met would in any way be more appealing than with someone who cared. I couldn’t wrap my head around why he would want to do this, until now. Reading this makes me understand that I am different. He’s a heterosexual man, he’s admitted sexual arousal to almost everything representing female sexuality. I simply don’t feel the same way towards sexual representations of strangers and couldn’t possible imagine a situation where I would want to cheat. It’s nice to learn that I am not alone in this. I’m not sure if our bond will hold strongly through this, however, I do know that from now on I will be up front with how I feel and ask the same from my partners to prevent future strife.

  6. Thank you for this. I recently realized that I am, in fact, demisexual, which explains so much of my adolescent confusion. But I have been hesitant to ‘come out’ or talk about it as anything groundbreaking specifically because I do not want to co-opt and impinge on queer spaces and pretend I understand queer oppression. I was very conflicted about how to engage with this new, budding identity. This post has helped a lot. Thank you so much!
    [Also, In answer to your question about demis searching for a partner: for me, it’s been tough and lonely but sites like OKCupid seem absolutely repulsive so there we are]

  7. really old post but I want yo say something…
    I’m confused about my sexuality…
    I may want to have sex with someone…
    the foreplay might be so good, but I’m still very dry down there….
    I’m not turned on by looks until I have spoken to the person…
    even the bf I claim to really love can’t keep me wet…
    I get bruised through continued thrusting
    I empty my mind totally before sex but I don’t feel it
    I pretend to feel it but I don’t…
    I read erotica and write erotica but I’m not turned on by the characters except I think of myself being there

    I have only been sexually attracted to 3 people my whole life but I have slept with more than three trying to find out why I can’t stay wet…
    but with those 3 people…
    I felt like I was never going to dry up… and I never did…
    help me! I’m confused

    • Hi Temi,
      I’ve never posted on a forum of any sort before, so please don’t hold it against me if I start to ramble. Like you, I am also confused and am attempting to share on here as a way to start to work through this whole idea. Based on the date of your post, I’ll assume that like me, you also have only recently discovered this sexual/demisexual/asexual terminology and are probably trying to figure out where you fit in the spectrum. I related to a lot of what you said. Please excuse any vulgarity, I’m going to try and keep this clean.

      To set the scene: You meet someone and find something attractive about this person. Whatever it is, they’re easy on the eyes, funny, smart, charming, make you feel good, etc. or any combination thereof. So, you go on a date with this person, get to know them, the date goes well, invite them back to your place, lots of flirtation, everything is going smoothly. And so mentally, you decide that you want to have sex with this person, and then when the moment comes….nothing’s happening on your end. There’s no obvious physical signs of arousal. In your case, there’s no moisture, no lubrication, etc.

      I’ve been there…. It sucks…The elusive physical sign of arousal in my case is the erection…and sometimes it’s easier to explain away than others: I drank too much, ate too much, I was tired, felt a little under the weather, stressed out about work, family life, whatever…the list goes on. But after a while, all these little excuses and seemingly isolated events start to add up. And I started to feel like, maybe there’s something wrong. Like physically, mentally, psychologically, bio-mechanically….whatever.

      Guys talk about girls, you know, probably similarly to how girls talk about guys. Sex is a huge topic of discussion with countless stories about what happened out at the club this weekend, about who hooked up with this one and that one or whatever. I’ve never been interested in that kind of promiscuity, but when I listen to other guys talk, the idea that there’s something wrong with me gets reinforced. So what’d I do? I went to the doctor. I thought maybe there’s a reason I’m unable to perform. At the time, I was dating a really beautiful, fun, cool girl and couldn’t understand why I was having such difficulty in the bedroom. I mean, I wanted to be there..with her..I wanted to please her and enjoy sex with her. And she reciprocated those wants and desires. We would play with each other manually, orally, and I could usually get started with traditional p in v sex…but found it difficult to complete….I would lose my erection after a while. It messed with me, I’m sure it messed with her, too. Actually, I know it did, she told me she had discussed it with her friends, and it wasn’t normal. So, I go to the doctor and he confirms that there is nothing physically wrong with me, did some blood work and other tests to make sure my testosterone levels were ok, I didn’t have a hernia and whatever else could be getting in the way. I do not nor did I ever have ED. I am perfectly capable of getting and maintaining an erection….just not with her. She broke up with me before I had a chance to discuss it with her, though I can’t imagine how that conversation would have gone. I’m sure our less than satisfying sex life played a role in the break up, but she was also having a bit of a life crisis for various reasons. In retrospect, I think that played a bigger role in the relationship than we were acknowledging. She was holding back from me, not allowing herself to feel that powerful pull to be with me on a deeper, more intimate(not sexual) level…I’m not trying to lay blame, but on some level I think I picked up on it and shut down my own feelings in the process…

      I guess what I’m trying to say is this: we’re not light bulbs…we don’t get turned on by anything as simple as the flick of a switch…Maybe some people are and can, but there’s a lot more that goes into it for people like you and me. Does it make us weird? Maybe…but who wants to be normal anyway? At some point, doesn’t having sex for the sake of having sex get a little….repetitive? Boring?

      Like you, I’ve had sexual experiences at either end of the arousal spectrum and some that were in the middle. As a man, I feel compelled to go out on dates and try to bed women, but that ends up feeling really empty to me, and there’s nothing arousing about that at all, which makes dating very difficult. Every once in a while though, I find a woman who completely blows my mind. I’ve been trying to figure out what it was about these women. One came out of nowhere, we met at a party, she came on strong (but not slutty), made it clear that she was very interested in me and not in anyone else. She made me feel special. More recently, another woman was a co-worker, we were friendly ahead of time, mild flirtations here and there, and then one day it just happened, we kissed, started spending time together, and made it clear that we wanted to be together. Again, I felt special. In both of these cases, the sex was incredible. It was quite the opposite of any other failed sexual attempts. You speak about feeling like you were never going to dry up…I felt like I was never going to go soft, like I was stiff as a brick (again I apologize for any vulgarity, just trying to be literal). And all I wanted to do was share with these women the amazing feelings I had, physically, mentally, emotionally, etc. All of it. The first girl was probably a little shocking, the other came on slowly, but in both cases there was an intensity that just wasn’t there with other relationships. We could talk and laugh for hours, wanted to be in each other’s company all the time, made vacation plans and went on mini trips to great cool places together. And felt like equals. Felt special.

      Thus far, none of these relationships have worked out, which is why I’m here, trying to figure it out. And it’s frustrating…I’m almost 30, some of my friends are married, most are at least in long term relationships. People, usually women, ask me things like why am I single. I hate this question because I don’t have an answer and it forces me ask the same question of myself, as if there’s something wrong with me. As if, I ought to “take advantage” of my single life and lay down with every woman that walks by…or at least be asking every woman out on a date. Fact is, it’s exhausting…dating, I mean…and a little painful, too…there’s so much rejection and nowadays, it’s so easy to be dismissive of people. I’m just as guilty as the next person of this. That’s really a topic for another forum and in no way am I trying to suggest that dating difficulties are restricted to any one type of sexuality/preference/lifestyle….sorry, I’m rambling

      But finding that there apparently Is some sort of community of people out there who think, act and respond similarly to these situations is pretty encouraging to me. To know I’m not the only person who thinks this way…that feels pretty great. I guess this is a fairly new term, and I’m sure there are plenty of people who think this is fake and not real. I’m not looking for a label, or a flag, or a parade. But maybe if we start to talk about it a little more, we can shed some light on the idea that some people are turned on in different ways than others. Does that make us individual, precious, little snowflakes? Isn’t everyone, regardless of what it is they’re particularly into? Or aren’t into, as the case may be?

      Just a thought

      • Stephanie says:

        Thanks for the great post, Brian. I don’t think you should need to worry so much about “vulgarity”; this is, after all, an article designed to increase awareness, openness and understanding about sex, so there’s nothing wrong with discussing the topic as long as you do so with respect and courtesy, which you did. Sex is a perfectly natural thing, and neither it nor discussions of it are inherently dirty, scandalous or vulgar.

        If you find it encouraging to be part of a demisexual community, I just recently joined one myself, and so far it’s been enlightening and supportive. If you have Facebook, you can join it here: https://www.facebook.com/groups/DemiOriented/1592809907661564/

  8. sanitybreach says:

    This is pathetic. It doesn’t accurately describe demisxuality at all, you butt in your own personal belief’s on it instead of an unbias explanation on it, while insulting sexualities that are not queer [ex. boring]. Love is beautiful, weather you have sex or not, or whoever with.

  9. In the article, the author wonders what it would be like for a demisexual on OkCupid. I actually married the man I met on OkCupid two months ago! I only recently identified as demisexual, because before then, I didn’t know what it was. My first boyfriend actually told me something was wrong with me because I didn’t experience the same level of sexual desire as him. Meanwhile, I thought he was addicted to sex. I thought everyone was like me. I definitely found out differently when I went to college. There, it seemed EVERY guy I met wanted me physically, but couldn’t care less about ME, me as a person. It was distressing, disheartening, and lonely. As soon as a guy found out I wasn’t going to have sex with him within the first three dates, he was gone. After college, I took a break from the dating world. I spent a year working six jobs to stay afloat until I finally found a full-time position in another state. I became friends with some new people, and they had some very odd (or at least to me) views on sex. They made fun of a girl in the group who, like me, waited to have sex until she loved the person she was with. They called her “vanilla” and talked boldly of their sexual experiences. I kept quiet because I was exactly like the girl they made fun of, but didn’t want to be ridiculed by the only “friends” I had. Many of these girls had mentioned trying OkCupid, and, being in a completely new place, I decided to give it a whirl. I actually liked it, almost better than dating in person! I put the least-sexy pictures I could find as my profile pictures, so I was able to minimize the disgusting sexual remarks many girls get. I also thoroughly read the profile of any guy who messaged me before messaging them back. This gave me a chance to connect emotionally just a little bit before I put myself out there and met a guy in person. The first guy I met in person is now my husband. While I didn’t have the word “demisexual” to explain how I was at the time, he understood my needs and was very patient with me. I may be one of the lucky ones, but I found on line dating to be the best way to go for me!

Trackbacks

  1. […] Davis defends demisexuality on the Good Men Project. You may or may not have heard of demisexuality, so I’ll let her […]

  2. […] A great post about misconceptions about demisexuality. I’ve wanted to write about this for a while, but it seems like few things bring out nasty […]

  3. […] on as soon as they see a hot naked lady (as opposed to women, who are, the textbooks assure us, all demisexual). They will cruelly lead women on and deceive them into believing that they’re in a romantic […]

  4. […] Davis defends demisexuality as a legitimate sexual identity, but not an axis of oppression; Renee of Womanist Musings calls out the appropriative tactics of […]

  5. […] of information on demisexuality; the second one goes into it more in-depth. Demisexual – AVENwiki Defending Demisexuality — The Good Men Project The same would also be true of people who are asexual, though to an even greater extent. […]

  6. […] do identify as demisexual, those who don't, and people who are confused of what demisexuality is: Defending Demisexuality. Reply With Quote […]

  7. […] The second strategy was seen in SlightlyMetaphysical’s post earlier, but can be seen in much older articles as […]

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