Why Dating For Asexual People is Unnecessarily Difficult
Dating as asexual is hard because it is incredibly difficult for allosexual people to understand a sexual identity that does not center sex.
I marathon-watched season five of “Bojack Horseman” in a single day because of who I am as a person. It's been a couple months since the season dropped on Netflix, but it's still on my mind, especially Todd's story. Despite the show’s issues with white actors voicing characters of color (and the, ya know, normalized beastiality), it's still one of my favorite things Netflix has ever brought to life—a guilty pleasure, more or less. One of the reasons I keep watching it is Todd Chavez. Not because he's an incredibly well fleshed out character, in fact, it's quite the opposite. Todd is a habitual couch-surfer and self-saboteur, an accidental genius who stumbles his way into various powerful, decision-making roles, a regular Captain Obvious who somehow simultaneously takes an inordinate amount of twists and turns to monologue his way to simple point of truth that everyone else in the room already arrived at eons ago. The most interesting thing about Todd, for me, is his place as one of the few asexual characters visible in the media, and his asexuality is explicitly stated. It's not something left ambiguous for fans to speculate about, the way many have done with Dexter Morgan, Benedict Cumberbatch’s performance of Sherlock Holmes, Sheldon Cooper, The Doctor, and Jessica Rabbit. In fact, Todd's most compelling storylines revolve around him reckoning with his asexuality, coming out, and navigating the dating world as someone on the spectrum. In the most recent season, Todd is dating a fellow asexual, Yolanda. When she takes him home to meet her family in episode three, “Planned Obsolescence”, it's revealed that Yolanda’s father is a best-selling erotic novelist, her mother is world-renowned adult film star, and her twin sister is a sex advice columnist. Her family is obsessed with sex. So much so that her father exclaims things like “As I jizz and breathe!” and tries desperately to gift Yolanda and Todd an obscenely large barrel of personal lubricant, a family heirloom, her great grandmother's recipe, with hopes that they will use it to have sex in the family home that night. Eventually, this absurdity culminates with the entire family covered in lube and Yolanda screaming, “I'm asexual!” in the midst of a slippery fight with her twin sister who is determined to seduce Todd. But Yolanda’s coming out doesn't happen where we can see it. Immediately after this is a time jump, indicated by a title card that reads: “One thorough but respectful dialogue later.” If only coming out as asexual were this easy and headache-free. I assure you, it is not. In the end, they break up. The only thing they have in common is their shared asexuality, Todd notes, with a sadness in his voice. He knows they shouldn't resign to dating each other simply because they are the only asexual people they know. That is not how human connection, emotional investment, and relationship-building work. Todd assures her that there is a guy for her who is smart and accomplished and impressive. “Who also doesn't want to have sex?” she interrupts. “Yeah, probably,” he responds. “...But what if there isn't?” [caption id="attachment_50218" align="aligncenter" width="800"]
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I Am Shamelessly Single And Not Sorry
Whether you want a romantic relationship, partnership, marriage or none of the above–let your single flag fly unapologetically.
Think about your earliest ideas of being single–was your association negative? Did it carry undertones of loneliness, sadness or undesirability? By your definition, did singleness somehow equate emptiness or incompletion? If that was your understanding, you weren't alone. When I was a kid I remember hearing adult men associate singledom with heavy-set women (insert major side eye) who ate ravioli from the can with their bare hands, while crying over romance films and soaking their cats with their tears. The same men that shamed single women were not only single themselves, they were actually celebrated for it. I learned quickly that it was indeed a man's world. I grew up believing that every man was a prince, and a woman needed approval from a prince to be considered a princess. As young girls lead by the Disney dynasty, media never taught us to imagine our lives without a man at the helm. It was suggested that unless a prince became your savior, you were destined to be nothing more than a dusty damsel incapable of living a meaningful life. Cinderella's slippers weren't good enough; her worth was contingent upon her ability to fit into the slipper more palatable to the prince. Snow White's prince made out with her and took consent-less ownership of her body while she was sleeping–but that was okay because he claimed her. I'm sure they lived happily ever after.Related: 10 THINGS EVERY INTERSECTIONAL FEMINIST SHOULD ASK ON A FIRST DATE
#AskCam: Navigating Communication and Casual Consent
Welcome to #AskCam, a column where sex and intersectionality are not divided but welcomed together.
Dear Cam, How exactly do I address consent in casual relationship settings? If I'm in a longer-standing relationship, I'm not embarrassed or ashamed to talk about literally any topic....but if I go on one date with someone and I'm not vibing them then they kiss me or grope me or touch me in some way that my body is adverse, I get uncomfortable and can't find the words to defend myself in the moment. Sometimes it's because I shut down, other times I just prefer the out that I can ghost them and use that as a way to avoid the in-person confrontation. If I don't know the person at all, I'm fine. You creep on me at the bar or catcall me I'm telling you to your face to not sexually harass me, but it's this weird in between where I almost feel a sense of either guilt, or obligation, or fear that clouds my ability to speak out. -Casual Consent Dear Casual Consent, I think your question is an increasingly important one. There's so much conversation lately about the ways that desirability, consent, and autonomy spill over into our everyday (*ahem* sexual) lives, and I think that we don't really allow much space for navigating these things in ways that are free of confusion and awkwardness. When I first read your letter, I immediately thought that this wasn't so much a question of consent itself – you already seem to have a firm grasp on that – to me, your question speaks more about boundaries. Boundaries are a tricky thing in itself – for women and people who have been conditioned and socialized as femme folks, we've been brought up with this idea that other people's needs should come before our own. Empathy and compassion for others are admirable traits, but because conversations about autonomy and boundaries weren't accompanied, the message that most of us received was that what we want and need aren't as important as our partner's wants and needs, whether they identify as cis-het men or not.Related: HOW SEXUALITY IS CRUCIAL FOR INTERSECTIONALITY: AN INTRODUCTION
No Means No – Teach Your Children How to Handle Rejection.
Everybody is responsible when it comes to deconstructing rape culture. Another day, another Twitter post illustrating how we don't teach boys how to take no for an answer. Another day, another example of how we reinforce toxic masculinity and rape culture
Dear Virgie: My Fat Friend Won’t Date Me Because I’m Fat
Dear Virgie: "It really sucks to be crushing on a fat babe who doesn't know how to see that they are worthy of love, and instead is perpetuating their own dehumanization." Dear Virgie, I have a fat friend who I think won't