Asexuality by Anonymous

Asexuality and marriage go hand-in-hand more often than many might think. More people are being vocal about how they blend asexuality and marriage or asexuality in relationships.

We appreciate this woman for sharing her experiences with asexuality and marriage. She shares how her asexuality drove a wedge between herself and her peers growing up, and how it has created hurdles for herself and her husband.

I am asexual.

I’d heard that term before I even really knew it applied to me. It means “without sexual feelings.”

It means that I don’t experience sexual attraction to anyone. And for me personally, it meant growing up with a strange distance between me and the girls around me, and being well into adulthood before I was able to be able to put into words and definitions what I was experiencing.

The technical term for me is that I am an asexual heteroromantic woman. I have no sexual attraction, but I do experience romantic attraction to men. I love my husband—I’ve loved him since we wrote a zombie apocalypse screenplay together, since we read Sherlock Holmes and Batman graphic novels together, since we dressed up for Halloween together.

He gave me butterflies, which became a billowing love in my chest, which became an uncontrollable smile just by hearing his voice. He is a uniquely kind, intelligent, sensitive, loving person, and probably the best man I have ever known. He’s my entire universe and my best friend. I love my husband.

I’m just not sexually attracted to him, or anyone.

We started to realize I was different when we were engaged, but it didn’t strike us until after we were married what it meant that I was asexual. I was just barely finding out that my experiences had a name, and more than that, that they would affect my marriage.

I’d been saying things like “He’s so hot” my entire life, a poor mimic of the girls around me. The language I adopted to fit in meant something different for me. It meant I think he’s nice to look at. It meant I really want to date him. It never meant I wanted him physically.

I just wish I had realized this far sooner.

For my husband and me, it means that I don’t have an interest in sex. It means that I don’t even think about it. It means that we’re kissing, whispering, and laughing softly to each other—but his mind is in one place, and mine is somewhere else. It means I have to force it onto my radar, because my mind has to make up for what my body doesn’t feel.

In everything else, my husband and I are so similar. We love to travel—we have a bucket list that grows every passing year. We love animals. We love to cook, especially if that involves trying something new. We’re creative. We’re storytellers. We’re sensitive and emotional. We don’t fight often, because neither of us likes conflict.

There’s just a gap.

My husband is sexually attracted to me, and I cannot return it.

There’s a pressure in society to be this… perfect woman. I know what the “perfect” wife is supposed to be, and she doesn’t look like me. The perfect wife is coy, teasing, sultry, and loving. The perfect wife is desiring. The perfect wife would never say I love you, but I’m not attracted to you.

The hardest part is that he is so patient and so loving. The hardest part is not knowing the extent to which it bothers him, because he’s too kind to ever tell me if it hurts. The worst nights are the ones where he whispers, “You’re not broken.” Because I am.

There is a fundamental piece of me that is missing. I should be able to want my husband. I should be able to give him what he deserves.

This is a common feeling among asexuals. Feeling broken, incomplete, and wholly wrong. I have reassured the few others like me in the past that there is nothing wrong with them—that they’re perfect the way they are, that they’re whole and beautiful the way they are, and that they could never be anything but utterly and splendidly complete.

I mean it. I mean every word, as long as it’s for someone else. But I am the asexual wife of a wonderful, patient, considerate, caring husband, and I don’t know if I will ever feel whole when I look at him.

He wraps me in his arms, skims his lips over my neck, and every single time I silently plead that I will have the feelings I’m supposed to have.

I never do.

I’m incomplete, wholly broken, and alone in a sea of wives who feel what they are supposed to feel—who are what they are supposed to be. In everything else, I am trying so hard to be what he needs. This marriage is everything to me—the most precious treasure I have, and something I’m willing to work through no matter what.

The only thing I can’t change is the asexuality.

All I can do is pray that he never gets sick of it.

by Anonymous

Asexuality in relationships does not mean sexless relationships. Asexuality in relationships can mean trust, love, compassion, romance, and giving.

While asexuality and marriage is a tough challenge, we all face challenges in our relationships that test our love and trust. If you share your story, you can help more women who are facing the trials you are facing–whether they be asexuality and marriage, emotional or physical infidelity,