A crowd of greyscale silhouettes of different people standing around. In the middle of the group, a silhouette in the colours of teh asexual pride flag has their arms raised in confusion.

The mysterious lives of allosexuals

CW: brief discussion of sexual assault (under the text break)

 

One of the commonest questions I get around asexuality is, But what does it feel like?

What does it feel like to be asexual? What does it feel like to not experience sexual attraction to anyone at all?

Imagine living in a world where almost everyone hallucinates tapirs. Most of the time, this mass delusion doesn’t cause any problems – people know the tapirs aren’t really there and can usually just enjoy or ignore their visions without it causing problems, apart from the odd embarrassing mishap. So to an outside observer, everyone’s walking around day-to-day just as if they weren’t seeing phantom ungulates around them – only everyone knows that everyone else sees them too, right?

Now imagine you’re one of the 1% of people in that world who doesn’t see tapirs. In fact, you don’t even know what a tapir looks like.

You know there’s something other people experience that you don’t, but you have no real idea of what it is. The best you can do is make guesses based on the way people around you talk and act around the subject of tapirs – and tapirs just aren’t talked about all that much.

In fact, the subject of tapirs comes up so rarely that it’s easy to forget everyone else is seeing something you aren’t.

Continue reading “The mysterious lives of allosexuals”

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A tiny figure standing alone in a canyon at night, surrounded by towering cliffs, under the nothern lights.

Still here

*cough* You may have noticed there was no blog post last week. There almost wasn’t one this week either, because when I’ve “failed” at something (and so often it’s something like this, a self-imposed goal – weekly updates – that’s being judged by no one but myself) the hardest thing in the world is to return to it.

Maybe if you just never start writing again, no one will notice you’ve stopped, whisper the weasels.

Continue reading “Still here”

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