So I am your typical twenty three year old woman. I work, finishing my Bachelors and pay a fair share of bills. Only one thing: your “average woman” is interested in intimacy. Wants to find a boyfriend. Have a group of friends. Live their life to the fullest. I don’t fall within this genre.
I have no friends, only a few acquaintances and that’s okay. When I was in high school, all of the people I considered friends at that time were interested in dating and hooking up with their crush. I only had one crush and that was my junior year. Not surprisingly, it didn’t turn into anything. I thought no one liked me and when I was a senior, a few guys seemed to actually show interest in me. I took it with a grain of salt and rejected them all. I thought it stemmed from being selective and would wait when someone of my preference popped up.
Let's flash forward to this year. I had my first short term relationship and had sex too. While I wasn’t completely attracted to his physical appearance, he had a great sense of humor and we shared a lot of common interests. The time came to discuss sex and let it happen naturally. It was terrifying. I cried when it happened. Painful. Sweaty. A lot of physical exertion.
We broke up a few months later. The “relationship” was long distance thanks to his job. Our conversations and being apart kept the anticipation to meet up stimulating. The more we saw each other, the more I doubted the progression of things. One night before our planned vacation, we had sex and I felt nothing. A lack of connection led us to go in different directions.
A few weeks ago, I began talking with a guy I met online. He seemed intelligent. Kind. Down to earth. Funny. A gamer. My kind of guy. We met up in person for the first time last week and things went well. We’ve been speaking everyday since that occurrence and met up yesterday for our second date. Since I always attributed my single status to being picky, I figured I would feel something more passionately compared to my ex because of his education and better looks. When we met up last night, that feeling that came over me when my ex and I had sex the last time presented itself. That daunting feeling of wanting to end the night as soon as possible.
I saw it coming. His attempt to kiss me. He ran his fingers through my hair and asked to kiss me. I said I couldn’t. I felt terrible for how things ended. He seemed like a good guy to have around and didn’t have an interest in keeping things platonic, as he was looking for a relationship. He thought I led him on and believed that I was looking for the same thing he was: a long-term partner. And I thought that’s what I wanted too. I am not usually the type to be conniving and attempt to hurt others intentionally. I had to let him know it wasn’t him, it was me and no other guy I met during this time frame was the cause of my aloofness. I cannot confirm whether or not he bought that.
I’ve never been sexually abused. I don’t masturbate. The closest thing to arousal is seeing a male celebrity I fancy or imagining being intimate with someone I believe I like, that guy I ended seeing yesterday was an example. I don’t know where this lack of sexual drive comes from. A fear of intimacy? Possibly. Am I gay? I don’t think so. Women are beautiful but I cannot see myself being intimate with one either. My Psychiatrist cannot fix me either. Comment below if anyone feels this way or knows of someone with similar traits. We are like unicorns and leprechauns, presumed to be non-existent.