Once I realized that I was asexual, the first thing, besides celebrate that I wasn’t a freak and that I wasn’t alone, was look back on my past thoughts and behavior to see if there was any indication of the fact that I was asexual. And it wasn’t hard for me to determine that there definitely was. It took some time to pin down exactly what it was, though.
I clearly remember the dances in high school, at least for the one and a half year that I was in a traditional high school, and how much I wanted to go. Being an awkward fat girl who fit in with the nerdy, unpopular, crowd, however, my dating prospects were very low. I had a few guy friends, however, and I held out hope that one of them would ask me.
And I would think that this hope to be asked out, and this desire to go to a dance or on a date with this specific person, was having a crush on them.
Of course, looking back on it now, it wasn’t really a crush. It was a desire to be normal combined with what I now would define as a squish.
A crush is a romantic attraction to someone, a desire for a romantic relationship of some kind, a desire that is possibly temporary in nature, possibly never to be acted upon. A squish is an aromantic crush, a desire for a strong platonic relationship with someone; this envisioned relationship is usually more emotional intimate than a typical friendship.
Of course, I had no idea what a squish was at the time, so naturally I thought it was a crush. Which led to some level of awkwardness with my guy friends Even though I knew, or at least thought, that I was bisexual by then, I wasn’t ready to be open about it yet.
Of course, I then dropped out of High School, and didn’t have to worry about social things like crushes for a while. That was when I discovered feminism and social justice and asexuality and all sorts of exciting new concepts that pretty much changed my life.
To tell the truth, I didn’t want to accept the fact that I am asexual for a while there. I tried romantic and sexual relationships, and I did my best at them. But in the end, I just didn’t like being in a relationship, and I didn’t like having sex. Which basically confirmed things for me. Not that I really needed that, I suppose, but maybe I did.
I’m pretty much comfortable with myself now. Sometimes I wish that I wanted sex or a romantic relationship. Sometimes I want to be “normal.” But mostly, I’m happy that I’m not forcing myself to be something that I’m not anymore.