Touch and Go
Touch averse. It’s a clinical, hard phrase, yet such a crucial part of how I operate as a gay asexual person. It’s not something I’ve had to unpack until recently, self-contained in my own little world. Only after entering a relationship have I had to evaluate what touch means to me, and how it connects to my identity.
Being in a relationship with an allosexual person means meeting somewhere in the middle. Where I’d be fine with just companionship, a shoulder to lean on once in a blue moon, someone to cook and laugh with, someone to just have the simple pleasure of asking how their day went, she expects more from me. I’m not trying to blame or shame her for any of her needs, but for both of us, it's about exiting our comfort zones and expectations of relationships, a constantly evolving compromise. To me, sometimes a hug can feel suffocating, and I’m willing to kiss her to make her happy, but it’s not something I need. I like doing things for her, but it often feels like I’m letting her down, and maybe society as a whole for not conforming to how a relationship should look.
I often feel like I’m playing right into the infantilization of lesbians, that my relationships and the way I interact with the world will never be seen as mature enough, something often associated with sexual desire and actions. And I’m also very aware that many gay asexual people aren’t quite like me either. There’s this harmful expectation that even though some gay asexual people don’t have sex (but obviously not all gay aces), that we can at least love. I know I love deeply, both platonically and romantically, but I have some inability to show it often because of my inability to show affection physically. How do I show that I love, while not being able to use one of the most conventional methods of showing it? Navigating romantic relationships feels like going online shopping, clicking on too many filters, and ending up with no results. I need someone who’s into women, fine being completely abstinent, okay with my distaste and uncomfortableness with touch. I’ve joked with my friends that I should make a dating resume:
Berit Harwood
Education:
Relationship College
Bachelors of Arts, Major in Miscommunication, Minor in Failed Expectations
Work Experience:
N/A
On some level though, I even feel crummy writing this, because I don’t see my touch aversion as something bad. It only becomes a problem when others expect something I can’t give. The intersection between being gay, asexual, and generally touch-averse is a place I’ve carved out for myself. It took a lot of self deliberation, and discovery, and I’m really proud of the point I’ve reached with accepting these facts about myself. There are so many stories about queer suffering, and it’s really not all about angsting about little things like this. I’ve forged so many vibrant and strong relationships while identifying as I have. In fact, many of my friendships have only gotten stronger because of my identity as a gay ace person. I’m happy to be unapologetically myself. So now I’ve reached a new leg of my journey. Beyond self-love, I need to learn to be less concerned about what others think of me. Someone who doesn’t appreciate me because of my labels, my identity, is not someone worth having in my life. So for now, I’ll walk that tightrope of compromise, walk, and fall and fall again until I have my footing. No one said I had to know everything, to do it all right the first time. And when I reach the other side of that rope, I know I’ll be a stronger person because of it.
