asexuality is for losers.

I remember sitting outside of a weed store in Portland, Oregon with Max, making fun of him for being asexual. Just ripping his twunk ass apart. I apparently wasn’t allowed to do that or say ‘asexuality is a myth created by people who want to be on the gay spectrum without being slay or cunt’. Max took me by the hand and explained, VERBATIM, that being asexual is just “being bisexual but IN OPPOSITION.” Finally! Someone explains something to me in a way I can understand. (Thank you for biting me with your asexual poison and turning me into one of your own, Maxwell). Being asexual is like being the Azealia Banks of the queer community. It’s just being discriminatory but from a place of equality. Asexuality, in that moment, was a door I'd been pushing even though its a pull. But PUSH is clearly written on the outside so I WAS following the proper protocol and whoever invented the stupid door should get whacked off (in the violent sense not in the cumming sense, I guess both suck).    

All along I thought asexuality was just a bunch of losers who are afraid of having sex and are gay (in the derogatory sense). Turns out…. WE’RE a bunch of losers who are scared of sex and are derogatory gay. 

I want to write this blog because I have something asexual to say. Sex is fucking disgusting. If you like sex that’s cool, but it’s actually so nasty I can’t even. First of all, intercourse is horrifying. Second, how often do y’all be washing your bed sheets and change that absolutely musty duvet cover? Not often enough to be fuckers who be fucking! And I KNOW that. 

So what if I’m speaking out of a place of trauma? I’ve had all the sex. Gay sex, very gay sex, kinky sex, penny sex, secret sex, public sex, foot sex, mouth sex, illegal sex, whatever. Since I was 15 years old I have been wondering to myself, ‘so when is it gonna happen’. Meaning, when am I going to like sex? I tried for 10 YEARS to get that good sex that people talk about or that’s on TV.

It quite literally doesn’t exist. And yes, I love projecting my own opinion on everything and everyone. So if you like sex, genuinely no you don’t. It’s the same as being a Nicki Minaj stan: Barb until proven otherwise. And if you do like sex, literally shut the fuck up, wash your ass, don’t make it my problem. 

Throughout my youth and young adulthood, sex was a method of proving my point. The kid in science class who was too smart for his own good and never turned in the work? Had sex with him. My ex’s best friend who was also in a relationship at the time? Sexed. The one scary one in the friend group who I was explicitly advised to avoid? Sexed. That one internet-famous person who I enticed with nudes over Instagram? You betcha!

I am a very domineering person, always have been. Also was an only child for my formative years. My sex epochs were colored by the goal of self-righteousness. Yes, I can get my way no matter what. I am the king of all who dare be sexy. Sex? No problem, it’s mine. Sex was a manipulation tactic and a way to prove my point. The strange thing was, I’d be in a relationship, and after the first 5 times of sex: could care less. Sex? Not interested. If my partners even alluded to intercourse, I’d have a meltdown. I was using sex to acquire my targets. It would loom over the relationship as an abstract ideal that once was. You MIGHT get sexy time. MAYBE I’ll get horny. MAYBE. That prospect was what kept most of them around (until it didn’t anymore).

Though now, my partners know this about me (polyamory and asexuality, what a combo). A vast majority of them were very understanding when I explained that I am asexual. The fun part about my attraction to others was always the chase. It still is about the ebb and flow, the meaningfulness of connection, and the top energy I bring with me to any partnership. I lead with my asexuality in any conversation with new prospects. My asexuality enters a room 10 minutes before the rest of my body does. I find that ownership of my body and my disdain for sex is alluring in itself. You think you can show me a good time? No, you can’t. You think I will suck toes and punch you in the throat when we enter the bedroom? Absolutely, I will.

My own definition of intimacy is mutable, dangerous, and sinister. I hope that I scare the shit out of my dating prospects. I’m closer in identity to a pope than to the punks who frequent Bootleg Bar in Bushwick, and I LIVE for that. I will slurp it up. 

Let’s get one thing straight: asexuals BE fucking. Just because I’m ace doesn’t mean I don’t have sex. It’s like eating eggplant parm. I’m going to have a bite to remind myself that I hate the smell and texture. But at least I tried! I am such a brave little boy for putting that abhorrent vegetable in my mouth, even if it’s breaded. The sauce is good and I’m allergic to cheese so it’s exciting to eat something so naughty. Not to mention, I’m also gluten intolerant so the whole thing is a terrorist to my delicate gay system. As of late, I haven’t been tasting eggplant parm as I don’t encounter it enough to be reminded that it exists. To me, being asexual and eggplant parmesan mean– these things are not an integral part of my relationships or my life. They upset me sometimes and other times only medium upset me.

As I listen to Lo-fi Jazz coffee shop and write this blog in my graffiti design ‘LOVE WINS’ underpants from Rainbow, I consider how I got here and why my hatred toward sex makes me truly better than anyone else. Well, first of all, the sexiest, dopest, trillest, and dankest people I know just happen to be asexual. One of them has an anime body pillow, but instead of a character, it’s themselves on the front AND back. Another one has been working on maybe the most amazing comic I’ve ever seen and won’t show anyone. Sitting on that treasure trove of dope space incel drama for no one's eyes but his. Another asexual person I know uses it/its pronouns and has a tremendous amount of sex (as a literal BIT). 

 If Guy, Max, or Elise is reading this, stay humble, stay horny, and especially stay chaste. I love you. I may as well take this time to out my partner as an asexual person. My partner is asexual. Once again, dope. 

Anyways, when it comes to sex, my opinions are strong, hard, and fast. Some last thoughts after writing this heinous asexual manifesto:

Shoutout to r/asexualcirclejerk. I hate annoying asexuals almost as much as I hate sex. Which is a lot (mentioned above). The best part about being a volcel is making fun of myself. Synonymous with liking anime. Please make fun of us, we might even get off on it! Secondly, I’d like to apologize to all of the volcels I outed in this piece. I’m sorry I mentioned you by name, not sorry enough that I will ever change it. No, I didn’t ask for any of their permissions. I don’t care. Last of all, this asexual business isn’t a phase; and I only say that in case my mom ends up reading this despicable blog. She always makes fun of me for not having sex and calls me a loser… I depend on the haters to stay motivated. She’s a real one for calling me out on my unpopular sexual stances. Love you mom. 

For anyone who reads this whole thing, I’m also sorry. I may as well include a formal apology signature at the end of most of my writing. I will never be sorry for hating sex. It's gross and you’re all gross. I’m just sorry that I am so dope please excuse my dope-ass swag. Amen.

-Lars