Upside Down(39)
He let out a slow breath. “I’m not going to lie. I feel a little exposed after what you just said about me.”
I baulked at that. “How so? I didn’t mean to offend you—”
“Oh, I’m not offended. I just feel—” He let out another breath. “—like you see me. I feel kind of stripped bare, given you dissected me in five seconds with your analogy. But you… see me.”
I blushed. “I like what I see, just so you know.”
He laughed. “Okay, my turn. What does your love of eighteenth-century poets say about you? I think it tells me that you’re a romantic at heart. Perhaps, like the revolution itself and like those who survived it, that despite all the adversity and horrors, there is still hope that love will win in the end.”
Oh God.
I chewed on my bottom lip, my eyebrows narrowed, and I wanted to object, but I shrugged with a resigned sigh. “Well, I’d say you’re… you’re not wrong.”
“I know I’m not.” He gave me a nudge with his shoulder and he smiled.
“Isn’t that what everyone wants?” I asked, looking up at the sky before looking at him. “Not romance or love, exactly. I’m aware of my aromantic brothers and sisters.” I raised a fist before letting it fall heavily back to my lap. “But we all strive for something. It might not be hearts and roses for everyone, but doesn’t everyone want something to fulfil them or someone to connect with on some level?” I shrugged, feeling less confident now and more vulnerable. Here it was, the leap into the discussion we needed to have. “Is it not human nature to find our own tribe? We all want that one thing, whether it’s someone to meet your every sexual need, or maybe it’s someone who loves to cuddle on the couch, or maybe it’s someone who knows the last three answers in the cryptic puzzle you can never get every damn time, or maybe it’s someone who loves Dungeons and Dragons just as much as you do, or maybe they love olives on pizza and will pick them off yours for you. Finding someone to share your life with doesn’t have to be based on sexual compatibility. I mean, if you want someone to pound you into next week while you’re chained to a cross, then by all means, I hope you find them and live happily ever after in your red room of pain. Or if you want someone who doesn’t want to ever have sex but still enjoys hugs and kissing, hand holding, and snuggling on the couch to watch movies, then hell the fuck yes, you should find that person. Or two people, if poly’s your thing. Whatever floats your boat, have at it. Find your one person, your tribe. Be happy, be content.”
“You’re sex-positive,” he said, with the hint of a smile. “Meaning you have no issue with sex itself.”
“Totally. If sex gets your motor running, then go have all the sex you want. As long as it’s consensual and healthy or whatever, then yes. Go do that.” I made a face. “But it’s not for me.”
He nodded, then sighed and smiled with what had to be relief. “Me too. I just want people to be happy, and I totally respect their desire to want sex, but I also want them to respect my desire to not have sex.”
“Exactly.” I groaned up at the sky. “I can’t tell you how many times I’ve had people tell me maybe I haven’t met the right person, or I wasn’t doing it right, or maybe I wasn’t even gay. Have I considered fucking a woman instead?” I rolled my eyes. “My great-uncle Brian thought it was hilarious to ask me that in front of my entire extended family until I asked him how he knew he was truly straight if he’d never fucked a man before. I mean, maybe he just wasn’t doing it right. Maybe he needed to try bottoming, just to be sure.”
Hennessy barked out a laugh. “Oh wow. I bet that was a conversation stopper.”
I sighed. “Made him realise how stupid he sounded. And I was uninvited to his Christmas dinner after that, which was a win-win for me. My mum was kinda pissed though.”
He frowned. “I’ve heard all that before too. Mostly from men. Dates, boyfriends…”
I nodded and gave him a smile that I just couldn’t quite get right. “Yeah. It sucks. Is it not enough to be gay? But oh no, let’s sprinkle on some asexuality just for good measure. I wish I liked sex. I wish I wanted it. But I just don’t. And I have stopped trying to pretend.”
“It’s not easy. I told you at the meeting the night we met that I first told my boyfriend slash best friend in high school that the idea of sex didn’t appeal to me.”
“And his response was really shitty. Sorry he did that to you.”
“Me too. I lost my best friend and the only other gay friend I had in school, so that sucked. And for a few years after that, I tried to like it. You know, sex and whatnot. And I tried to fit in, and I tried to pretend it didn’t bother me. But it did. And it’s not easy for a guy to fake, you know what I mean?” He waved his hand at his crotch. Then he whispered, “They could see I wasn’t sexually aroused.”
I made a sympathetic face. “Yeah, been there, done that.”
He let out a long sigh. “But it wasn’t working for me. I was miserable, and I told my doctor and she suggested I read up on asexuality. So I did, and it was like something clicked inside me. I was nineteen, and I finally felt right. I found an online community group and finally met people who were like me. It was incredible, and I began to embrace that part of my life. It was part of who I am, and so when I met guys, I’d tell them I was asexual. Some had never heard of it, some thought I was joking, some thought I was weird. But I’ve had a few boyfriends over the years, so it’s not all bad.”