Month: January 2014

More Thoughts on Normative vs. Alternative Relationship Structures

The following is a response to Siggy’s post over at The Asexual Agenda. I appreciate the motivation to address some of my own thoughts and feelings on non-normative relationships, more specifically to clarify some things I’ve written in the past.

Here’s the thing: there are a lot of asexuals, including the ones who are sex-repulsed or sex-averse, who do relationships exactly the same way as romantic-sexual people. Sex is literally the only difference between the way a normative romantic asexual wants their social life to look, and the way a romantic-sexual person wants their social life to look. Being asexual, even an aromantic asexual, does not automatically mean that you want non-normative relationships. Being asexual, even an aromantic asexual, does not mean you think any differently than romantic-sexual people about love or family or friendship. (I recently had an experience confirming this, when I read a conversation had amongst aces about the lack of rights a friend has to expect non-normative friendship to continue with a romantic-sexual person when that person’s romantic-sexual partner objects. The romance supremacist attitudes and conventional ideas of monogamy made me indescribably sick.)

Recently, I’ve been more seriously contemplating the idea that asexuals, particularly aromantic asexuals and asexuals on the aromantic spectrum, are capable of feeling a type of nonsexual love that romantic-sexual people are not capable of–but being capable and being interested don’t go hand in hand. If that theory regarding unique nonsexual love is correct, it’s still true that plenty of asexuals are not interested in pursuing or exploring relationships that fall outside of the modern norm sexual society has constructed. I think this is akin to the fact that romantic-sexual people, while always capable of having romantic-sexual relationships because of their ability to feel romantic and sexual attraction toward the same person(s), can go through periods where they are not interested in having a relationship that is both romantic and sexual. Lack of interest does not negate ability, nor does ability translate into interest. I don’t believe that I would have the relationship desires and interests that I do, if I had been born a romantic-sexual person, but I also know that I could’ve been an asexual only interested in having a stereotypical monogamous romantic relationship, without the sex. (For a time, during my adolescence, I thought that’s what I wanted, besides alternative friendship.)

I do believe that the relationship norms of mainstream sexual society heavily influences asexuals, in the way they think and do their own relationships, just as they heavily influence romantic-sexual people. Nobody grows up or exists in a vacuum. We are all products, to one degree or another, of our culture. What we believe, what we desire, what we consider “normal” vs. “abnormal” or “weird,” what we value, what we choose is all connected to the social and cultural environment we live in. Very few attitudes and behaviors come “naturally” to human beings in the context of relationships with others, and to believe that there is one fixed set of “natural” social desires is to become a person who views human beings with “unnatural” desires as a threat to society–which is basically where queerphobic people are coming from.

What is considered a “normative” friendship or a “normative” romantic relationship or a “normative” marriage in 21st century America or the UK or anywhere else, is not identical to the “norms” of 200 years ago or 500 years ago or 1000 years ago. All you have to do is study the history or anthropology of relationships to see that. Romantic friendship was pretty damn normative in 1805 in America. Now, it isn’t normative anywhere in the Western world. (Thanks, Freud.)

Would plenty of romantic asexuals still only want normative romantic relationships (sans sex) and normative friendships and be the same kind of relationship hierarchists as romantic-sexual people are, if they lived in a society that prized friendship and didn’t treat romance as anything special? Maybe. I’m sure there would be some hierarchical romantic monogamists in the asexual community, no matter what our world looked like, but do I think they would be an overwhelming majority? No. Do I think most people would believe in monogamy, if we lived in a polyamorous-friendly society free of institutionalized moralism proclaiming that romantic and sexual monogamy is Good and everything else is evil? Fuck no, and I invite you to read up on common sexual practices in world history to see why.

So “normative” is fluid. Not only through time but across cultures. The particular brand of relationship hierarchy that’s the norm in sexual society here in the States, the kind founded on amatonormativity, is no more naturally occurring to humans than any of the social norms that existed during the last 5000 years. That’s part of why it pisses me off, because I know people COULD be different. Our cultural dialogue about love COULD be different. It was different, once upon a time. I assume it’ll change in some ways again, eventually.

Siggy brought up Captain Heartless’ point that relationship hierarchy practices are not problematic in and of themselves–which I agree with–but that society’s shaming of people who don’t prescribe to the hierarchy practices is problematic. I don’t think that goes deep enough. Shame isn’t even an issue, unless people start actually practicing a model of relationships in their own life that’s opposed to the Romantic Sex Based Relationship Hierarchy–and it’s getting to that place where you’re doing relationships differently that’s the problem. The problem is that nobody tells you that you CAN do relationships differently. There’s no widespread conversation about relationships that isn’t framed in the RSBRH; there’s no acknowledgment of alternatives or freedom to choose alternatives. There is absolutely nothing set up in our legal system, our education system, our economy, etc to accommodate relationships that fall outside of the RSBRH. There is absolutely no presence of relationships that contradict the RSBRH in mainstream media, and if there was, the vast majority of people would respond by distorting those relationships to fit into their established worldview rooted in romance supremacy and sex supremacy and everything that goes along with those paradigms. You have no idea just how inhospitable romantic-sexual society is to any kind of relationship anarchy, until you step completely outside of it and look at it from the perspective of someone who wants to do relationships differently.

Depending upon the criteria you’re using to determine what’s “problematic,” the Romantic Sex Based Relationship Hierarchy isn’t a problematic practice for most people–at least, not to their conscious knowledge. Why would it be? It’s the Norm. If that’s all you know, if that’s all you’re accustomed to, and if everyone else you know is in the same boat, you’re not going to see it as a problem; you’ll only view the problems you have within your practice of the hierarchy as reflective of personal mistakes. (Best example of this is people who don’t think there’s anything innately screwed up about monogamy, just individuals who screw up as monogamists–whereas, if a poly romance falls apart, critics will criticize polyamory as a practice, rather than see the failure as connected to the individuals.) And as far as feeling an emotional dissonance about the dynamics of inferior friendship vs. superior romantic sexuality, a Hierarchist isn’t likely to experience it in their social life, if all their friends are Hierarchists too. You’re all subordinating each other to your respective romantic-sexual partners at the same time. Of course, no one’s going to have a problem.

So, yeah, the RSBRH isn’t problematic in itself, unless you want to look at the overall failure rate of romantic-sexual relationships and loneliness and crappy “friendships” and estranged biological family relationships and conclude that maybe more people would be happy if they did their relationships differently. And I’m not saying that in a facetious tone. I’ve heard a few different people say that my challenging of the normative relationship system is important not just for asexuals but sexual people too, because most of them are unhappy. But most romantic-sexual people don’t see the RSBRH as a problem; their only problem is finding their One True Romantic Sexual Love, who can fulfill them forevermore. It logically follows that individuals who do find that Romantic Sexual Partner lead generally happy lives and don’t give a shit about their shallow nonsexual/nonromantic connections to others. They’re perfectly satisfied with the status quo of the hierarchy. They have no curiosity about or desire for non-normative friendships or bio family relationships, and hey, God bless ’em because they never have to experience the anguish of unsatisfied desire for those non-normative relationships, let alone do the work of forming them and helping them survive in a social environment hostile to non-normative friendship.

I passionately criticize the Romantic Sex Based Relationship Hierarchy because I think it’s fucked up on many levels and harms a lot of people in a lot of ways, even if they’re oblivious to the harm, and because as long as that hierarchy is the institutionalized norm, people like me–relationship anarchists, particularly of the celibate asexual variety–are shit out of luck most of the time. The rest of the world doesn’t have to care, and why would you? The RA’s plight has no bearing on your life. But I happen to believe that we, the relationship anarchists, deserve to be happy and loved and have satisfying relationships on our own terms. My needs and my desires are not inherently less important than a romantic-sexual hierarchist’s just because mine are outside the norm.

If the RSBRH makes you happy in your life, if you believe in it, if you think it’s right and normal, fine. I won’t be associating with you on a personal level or emotionally engaging with you (that’s pretty much why all romantic-sexual people are blacklisted in my book, as potential Friends), but I won’t think you’re a terrible human being either. I might see you as my political enemy because you stand in the way of the relationships and love that I desire–for myself and for others like me–by perpetuating the RSBRH norm, but I won’t have anything personal against you.

As for casual sex, I’m a big supporter. If that was the only kind of sex going on in the world, I’d be cool with it. In fact, that’s the only kind of sex I understand on an emotional level; it’s not a coincidence that back when I was still friends with the straight girls I grew up with, the one I was closest to was also the one who had lots of casual sex and didn’t care as much about romance. I felt like (and still feel) the more casual someone is about sex, the less they romanticize sex, the more likely they are to value and prioritize friendship.

I think it’s important that casual sex become more acceptable in our culture, not least of all because it would benefit aromantic sexual people and reduce their chances of being vilified for upsetting the Romantic Ideology narrative. Casual sex is also important to cross-orientation sexual people who are most comfortable separating their romantic relationships from their sex lives, which more of them should be able to do in a safe, comfortable way. Ironically, one of the biggest reasons that our culture is not casual sex-friendly is because casual sex contradicts the RSBRH by failing to marry (pun intended) Super Important Sex with Even More Important Romance that results in The Super Important Romantic Sexual Couple Relationship. Casual sex and nonsexual romance have a lot more in common than you might think, for that reason.

Rejecting Romantic Language and Identity

I see the determination of many asexuals’ to choose a romantic identity and find a way to neatly separate “romantic relationships” from “friendships” in their own experience as an expression of amatonormative, romance supremacist attitudes they have internalized from living in sexual culture, a way for them to convince sexual people that asexuals are really just like them except for this tiny little difference of not experiencing sexual desire (and that’s not even a real difference sometimes because hey, we’ll still have sex with you anyway! We’re not here to rock the boat, we promise!)

By rejecting romantic orientation labels or at least rejecting their importance as identifiers, asexuals reject amatonormativity and romance supremacy, and open themselves up to experiencing a new relationship paradigm where intimate relationships are not classified, organized, and ranked according to the presence or absence of “romance” but where love, affection, commitment, and intimacy can more fluidly exist in a variety of relationships regardless of romantic attraction.

The question, “What makes this supposedly romantic relationship different from a friendship if you aren’t having sex?” is predicated on the attitude that romantic relationships are superior to nonromantic friendship, that the categories of “romance” and “friendship” are distinct from each other in a black and white way with no gray area in between whatsoever, and causes the asexual being questioned to constantly internalize sexual culture’s rules of separation and ranking for romantic relationships and friendship. That question forces asexuals to defend their romantic orientation and their romantic relationship by coming up with proof that their feelings and the relationship itself are not only different from friendship but more: more serious, more involved, more exciting, more emotional, etc. Built into that question is sexual society’s belief that romantic relationships are largely defined by being MORE than (nonromantic) friendship. It’s plain as day in their language: the flipside of being “just friends” with someone is being “more than friends.”

This all goes back to the Romantic-Sex Based Relationship Hierarchy. Romantic/sexual relationships can’t be “special” and equal to friendship at the same time. Romantic-sexual relationships hold their superior status in the hierarchy by providing the only access to a laundry list of behaviors and experiences that most humans crave for emotional fulfillment, not because those experiences are caused by romantic sexuality but because we’re led to believe they are inappropriate apart from romantic sexuality. Friendship must be inferior, must be limited, must be kept small in order to preserve the superiority and specialness of romance. Because romantic relationships are considered superior, they are respected and honored in sexual society in a way that no other type of relationship is. That lack of respect and honor and value for friendship is blatantly obvious in the question “How is this ‘romantic’ relationship different from a friendship if there’s no sex?” as much as it’s obvious in commonly used phrases like “just friends” and “friendzone.”

If there was no institutionalized hierarchy of relationships in sexual culture, based on sex and romance, then no one would ever ask an asexual “What makes this nonsexual relationship you have romantic instead of a friendship?”, in a challenging tone, because no one would care about recognizing other people’s romantic relationships for the purpose of regarding them as superior and special in comparison to friendship. If romantic relationships and nonromantic friendships were truly equal in society or in an individual’s life, demonstrating which is which to outsiders would feel pointless. Emphasizing a romantic relationship as romantic would be pointless because in this scenario of all love being equal, you don’t care to point out one type of relationship you have so that other people can recognize it as special (read: superior) in comparison to your other relationships.

I want to move entirely away from using interactive behaviors as the dividing line between “romantic” relationships and friendship and instead strip down the difference to just one thing: the presence or absence of romantic attraction. If you love someone and that love feels romantic to you, then it is. If you love someone and that love doesn’t feel romantic to you, then it isn’t. Simple. And entirely internal.

If feelings alone determine which relationships are romantic and which ones aren’t, what behaviors are romantic and what aren’t, then there is no need or purpose to coding certain relationship behaviors as “romantic” and therefore restricting their performance to couple relationships. If all forms of nonsexual bonding actions and expression of love/affection were unclassified in the abstract, if they had no specific emotional connotations prior to taking place in a specific relationship between two people who have a specific set of feelings for each other, than no bonding action or expression of affection would be off limits in friendship. You could be as emotionally expressive, as physically affectionate, as intimate as you could possibly be with another human being, in a friendship where sex and sexual attraction don’t exist, and it would be understood by you, your friend, your romantic partners, their romantic partners, and the world at large that the friendship and your love for your friend are ultimately nonromantic because you do not feel romantic attraction to them.

I don’t label my own relationships “romantic” or “nonromantic,” nor do I identify with any romantic orientation label, including aromantic, because all love feels the same to me, more or less. If I did have a romantic identity, and someone—sexual or asexual—asked me,

“What’s the difference between romance and friendship for you, if you don’t have sex with anyone?”

I would answer: “Why does there need to be a difference?”

As far as I’m concerned, people only want to know which of your relationships is “romantic” so that they can view it as superior to your other relationships, show it more attention and respect and honor than your other relationships, identify how “available” you are emotionally and physically, figure out who in your life they should be particularly attentive to and respectful of.

All of which is bullshit based on the premise that romantic relationships are inherently superior to and different from friendship. If you’re a romance supremacist, that’s your choice, but you will not impose that worldview onto me and my relationships. You don’t get to assign value to my relationships based on your own hierarchical philosophy, and you certainly don’t get to erase my asexuality in favor of a romantic orientation.

I do not debate that romantic attraction exists as something distinct from emotional (nonromantic) attraction, for many asexuals. I’m not suggesting that all romantic aces who very clearly feel a difference between their attraction to certain people they want to date and their feelings for friends just pretend that there is no difference.

But I am saying that romantic asexuals who know they’re romantic should not feel the need to work so hard to prove that they are or to make their nonsexual romantic relationships stand out from their friendships, so that the rest of the (sexual) world can recognize them as romantic. I’m saying that we are not obligated to pick a romantic identity term, that “asexual” can be enough. I’m saying that for aces who have a very hard time telling the difference between “romantic love” and “nonromantic friendly love,” it’s okay to stop trying to figure it out for the purpose of labeling yourself and your relationships. It’s okay to approach your own feelings and nonsexual relationships with people from a standpoint of, “I love this person, they are important to me, and I don’t want to have sex with them. Period.” I’m saying that maybe if we stop fixating on the difference between asexual romantic feelings and nonsexual/nonromantic friendly feelings, the aromantic aces will have an easier time finding the kind of love and companionship they want, without being pigeonholed as unemotional loners who hate physical affection.

Asexual Desire

I keep coming back to the idea of desire: nonsexual desire, between two asexuals. What does that feel like, when it’s reciprocal? What does it look like?

I like to frame it in physical terms because I’m a very sensual, tactile person in loving, intimate relationships. Sexual society believes that physical desire is innately, exclusively sexual, but I know how it feels to desire someone physically and nonsexually. Asexuals are the ones who started to use the concept of sensual attraction as something separate and distinct from sexual attraction, to describe the desire to be physically affectionate or intimate with someone, without making sexual contact. When you feel sensually attracted to someone, it’s not a choice to combine an abstract enjoyment of physical affection with a person you feel comfortable with; sensual attraction really is a kind of attraction, a pull toward someone specific, a directed desire to touch someone’s body and have them touch you. It’s not something you can conjure or eliminate. The desire comes into being of its own accord.

When I desire someone, every single touch we share becomes a source of joy. Our touching is the communication of love, a million times more visceral than an exchange of words. When I desire someone physically (and nonsexually), what I desire is pleasure and intimacy and connection and care and love. When I desire someone, I see the beautiful parts of their body, their face—not because I’m attracted to their appearance (I could be, but that attraction is separate) but because my love for them, my desire for them, makes them beautiful. They become, in their physicality, a source of pleasure and love; they become a vessel where I can direct my own loving.

I want to be desired by my passionate friends and my romantic friends and every single person I love—desired in this nonsexual, emotional, mental, spiritual, physical way. I want them to love my body because they love me, not what it looks like but what it feels like in their hands and their arms and against their skin. I want them to love my smell, my heartbeat, the rhythm of my breath. I want them to love the warmth of my body, the weight of it, the uniqueness of it. I want them to love touching me, holding me, kissing me, so much that they dream about it in between visits.

I want to feel that way about them, too.

I imagine that when two asexuals desire each other, when they’re sensually attracted to each other, there is a breathtaking freedom about their touch. Sex is not an issue. It doesn’t have to be worried about, feared, or avoided. The physical interaction can unfold easily, naturally, without restraint. You don’t have to think about what you’re doing. Nothing will be taken the wrong way. There’s no edge you have to be careful around. You can be completely, deeply, fully sensual because no amount of sensuality will force the sexual. The desire is clear: I want your body, I want you to touch me, I want to touch you, but genitals are not involved.

My asexual friends and I (romantic friends, passionate friends) can spend hours in bed together, touching and cuddling and maybe kissing. We can strip to our underwear, dive under the duvet, and touch each other’s bare skin, hold each other almost naked body to almost naked body. We can kiss each other’s face, neck, shoulders, back, hands, tummy. I’m not keen on mouth to mouth kissing, but full-blown physical desire for me can definitely lead to body kisses. (I’m a big fan of neck kisses, especially the ones that come from behind.) I won’t even rule out a little bit of nibbling. We can cuddle in every position conceivable. We can give each other massages with oil. We can run our hands over each other’s body, just for the pleasurable sensation, stroke and rub and pet. We can listen to each other’s heartbeat. We can clasp hands, fall asleep together. We can just look at each other, lying side by side in bed, and be quiet as we appreciate our intimate physical togetherness.

Sometimes, I imagine how fun it could be for an ace passionate friend and I to undress each other for sensual cuddling—even if it’s just unbuttoning a shirt or unbuckling a belt or pulling off a jacket. Undressing each other as we touch each other, embracing. It’s an act of desire but also a symbol of the freedom and confidence and ease we feel together, coming from the same place of nonsexual desire. We can be that close, that intimate, maybe even a little flirty, and it’s safe.

Asexual Intimacy is Good.

The author over at Queering Asexuality, whom I will call “L” because in her about section she calls herself only L.E.M.S., wrote a really excellent post today about consent in sexual situations (from an asexual perspective) and her conclusion about asexual intimacy (which is basically nongenital, sensual physical interaction) being a gloriously good and pleasurable thing in its own right, not anything less than sex.

Here are my favorite parts that I want to comment on:

But I think everyone just needs to experience what it can really be like when you are with another person who is willing or just wants to see what can happen when you adore and love limitations. Big big “limitations.” When you limit yourself even more than you usually do (yes, you, asexual person). I’m talking about changing the goals too: Not aiming for orgasm, or pleasuring the self or the other person in a way where you have to turn someone on or be turned on […..] Just kissing, cuddling, caressing, hugging, embracing in the darkness, not heading for the genitals, not needing to get undressed, not trying to increase the pleasure, but just sustaining the sensuality by ebbs and flows – I don’t know, you feel loved, connected, like the person isn’t getting lost in anything, but is always with you each moment, surprising you still at every turn. It is addicting, and it’s not over in ten minutes, but keeps going for hours, and you are glad that it does.

My point is that you don’t have to do much to reach incredible, satisfying heights of desire, connection, and pleasure. I have this feeling some of us kind of just wish we wanted to do more, and so we may feel like we always have to do the furthest thing we are comfortable with and like because why not do “the most?” You can say that, but I think when you finally experience intimacy with another asexual person (I don’t mean to be limiting, but I know nothing beyond my own experience), then you really honestly can feel confident about asserting what you want and don’t want with people, with anyone asexual or not. Because, and this is SO important so listen very very closely, because you KNOW that what people can experience with you in terms of the absolute “minimal” you want to offer is absolute magic. They should be so lucky to get to participate in and have access to what they might not experience otherwise. Fuck thinking I’m holding people back, and so compromise on what I want/don’t want. I’m moving people forward. I’ve got it. Just listen to me, I’ll say. You don’t even know love ’til I show you how it feels. You don’t know sensuality. You can take it from me asexual world: asexual intimacy is a fucking good thing to experience. And I really don’t think I’ll ever settle for less again. I didn’t even know how “not far” I could go.

I’ve desired intensely sensual, profoundly spiritual physical intimacy in romantic friendships and passionate friendships my whole life. It’s one of the key features of my ideal relationships. Touch is my love language, so even when I’m not thinking about myself in my own hypothetical relationships but instead thinking of characters in stories I write or in other people’s stories, I zone in on the physical affection and intimacy because it’s the ultimate expression of love and connection to me. I’ve learned in recent years just how sensual and intimate and even borderline erotic nonsexual physical intimacy can be, just from exploring different ideas about what two people in a totally nonsexual relationship can do together physically….. And the suggestion that such intimacy is somehow inferior or incomplete because it isn’t sex, because it doesn’t involve genitals and orgasm, is totally ridiculous. When I think about or write about two people who love each other epically, cuddling and caressing in bed for hours and touching each other’s bare skin and breathing together and kissing each other’s body and just being 100% present and focused on the encounter as they individually enter a space of pure love, that is a million times more intimate and intense than a lot of the sex that happens in the world. I’ve said before that sex and intimacy are two different things, and they are not interdependent whatsoever. Asexual intimacy, as L calls it, is the perfect example of that.

It’s occurred to me many times before that most sexual people out there have never imagined just how intimate you can be with someone else in a physical way, without having sex, without even getting naked together. They assume that all asexuals are totally disinterested in physical expressions of love, intimate touch, sensual touch, etc because they have connected the concept of “physical intimacy” and sex so inextricably that the first can never happen without leading to the second. But there are so many aces who want physical intimacy in their relationships, whether romantic or nonromantic. I believe that there’s even some degree of self-restraint that happens with asexuals who only get involved with sexual people, because we know that if we’re not careful, we’re going to end up in an unwanted sexual situation just because we were too physical.

But God, when you’re with another ace and sex isn’t even an issue….. You’re free to do anything. I think the most beautiful sentiment in L’s post is that there is nothing “minimal” about asexual intimacy. Asexual intimacy is not small, it’s not shallow, it’s not boring. It is whole and expansive and it has the potential to reach so deeply into your heart and soul, to create a sense of connection between two asexuals that is indescribable and powerful. It can be so caring and tender and emotional. Sexual people have no idea. They think those of us who are celibate are missing out on sex, when they’ve never experienced the love and connection that can happen during asexual intimacy.

And it is pleasurable. Physically, emotionally, mentally, even spiritually. If you just want to talk about it from a physical standpoint, it’s much more of a total body pleasure throughout the entire encounter, as opposed to the genital-specific pleasure of sexual orgasm. DJ, the founder of AVEN, once described how “high impact cuddling” can go on for hours because there is no naturally occurring endpoint, like orgasm, to signal that the physical intimacy can conclude. You just touch as long as you want to, and there’s no climactic sensation, just a never-ending stream of pleasure. (I think I once alluded to this as a kind of infinite desire asexuals can experience for one another.)

One of the many, many reasons I want to form intimate relationships with other celibate asexuals exclusively is because I want the people I love, the people I share my body with, to know and to feel that this nonsexual physical intimacy is 100% gratifying and amazing and special and far from me “holding them back,” I am giving them complete vulnerability and love and care and pleasure. I want to share this with people who appreciate it, who want it, who need it, who love it.

Are Asexuals Capable of Nonsexual/Nonromantic Love Unique to Us?

Recently, I started to deeply contemplate an idea that has flit in and out of mind a handful of times, and the idea has evolved into a theory. The theory feels strongly probable to me, but I haven’t yet decided to view it as truth. I feel like my life experience has been building to this theory for a long time, but I haven’t explored it long enough to make it a part of my worldview.

The theory is this: Asexuals, including aromantics, may be capable of feeling a unique kind of nonsexual/nonromantic love that romantic-sexual people cannot feel.

This nonsexual/nonromantic love is the kind that romantic friendships, passionate friendships, and certain queerplatonic friendships are based on: it’s a love that is far more emotional, profound, intense, and significant than anything that holds together a common friendship, but it is not romantic or sexual and does not seek to culminate in a traditional romantic relationship. It’s a nonsexual/nonromantic love that causes someone to see a special friend as their primary companion, the most important person in their life, or at least equally as important as any romantic partner they might have. It’s a nonsexual/nonromantic love that causes someone to want a lot of physical, even sensual, affection and intimacy with their friend. It’s a kind of nonsexual/nonromantic love that feels completely equal to the kind of romantic-sexual love that’s universal to romantic-sexual people: equal in intensity, equal in depth, equal in its power to compel attention and prioritization and commitment and heavy involvement.

I’m not suggesting that the romantic love asexuals feel is any different than the romantic love that sexual people feel, aside from the absence of sexual desire. I’m not suggesting that romantic asexuals are capable of a special type of romantic love. The love I’m talking about is not the stuff of traditional romantic relationships, sexual or nonsexual. The love I’m talking about can just as easily be felt by an aromantic asexual as a romantic asexual, maybe even more frequently by aromantic aces.

I’m thinking of feelings that lead to what you could call “gray area relationships.” Relationships that are essentially a blending of common friendship and traditional romance, that fall in between the two standard categories. Relationships that look a lot like romance but are not sexual, don’t actually have to include any kind of romantic attraction, and are a hell of a lot more important and emotional and intimate than common friendships.

My reasons for this theory are simple: romantic-sexual people, for the most part, don’t have romantic friendships or passionate friendships. They don’t believe in them, they don’t want them, they don’t understand them. The vast majority of the sexual population has never heard of these relationship types, and usually, when you explain it to them, they respond with general disbelief, confusion, dismissal, etc. They’re very quick to label any kind of relationship that looks more emotional, physical, and important than common friendship as romantic and sexual, even when there’s no evidence whatsoever of romantic attraction and sexual activity between the two people in question. Asexuals are all too familiar with sexual people’s skepticism of romantic attraction that isn’t born in sexual attraction, of romantic relationships that don’t include sex as legitimate and distinct from nonromantic friendship, and of their total incomprehension of nonromantic primary partnerships, such as the kind that aromantic asexuals may want or have. They sexualize and romanticize all forms of physical affection more intimate than a hug. They cry “emotional cheating” if they think their romantic partner is nonsexually connected to someone else “too much.”

Meanwhile, there are scores of asexuals, both romantic and aromantic, who have expressed interest in romantic friendship or passionate friendship or queerplatonic friendships that function as primary partnerships. And I’m not talking about romantic asexual relationships. Totally different thing than those friendships. That’s sort of the bottom line. There are romantic asexuals who do feel romantic attraction and who can fall in love and know the emotional difference between a romantic relationship and a romantic friendship, and they express interest in having a romantic friendship as something separate than any desire to have a romantic relationship. There are aromantic asexuals who can nonromantically fall in love with a friend so hard that they want to be lifelong, primary partners with that friend–in a totally nonsexual, nonromantic relationship. There are aromantic asexuals who can be very physically affectionate with a friend they love, and there are romantic asexuals who are totally open to have both a romantic partner and a romantic friend, maybe more than one romantic friend.

All of this data suggests to me that there might actually be a difference in the emotional wiring of asexuals that allows us to feel nonromantic love in a way that romantic-sexual people just can’t. Even when asexuals don’t have the language to describe their feelings and their relationship desires, it’s common enough for them to sense that they want something other than a plain old friendship and other than a romantic relationship, that they aren’t all immediately jumping to the conclusion that a desire for romantic friendship/passionate friendship/primary QP relationship is actually a desire for a romantic relationship. This sense of loving people in friendship, in a way that blurs sexual culture’s rigid dichotomy of “nonromantic” and “romantic” feelings is intuitive and persistent enough in many asexuals that they throw up their hands and say “Fuck it. I don’t know what romance is as opposed to friendship, and I no longer care. I don’t even need a romantic identity label. I’m asexual and I love people, period.” (Some of them even playfully identify as WTFromantic.)

I, for one, am quite familiar with both feeling love that is clearly romantic friendship or passionate friendship type love, NOT romantic relationship type love, and totally confusing sexual people who don’t have a clue that any kind of relationship besides common friendship and traditional romance exists and therefore misconstrue what I feel and what I want. Sexual people of all genders, age categories, races, orientations, etc–same inability to understand the emotion and desire for romantic friendship/passionate friendship/primary queerplatonic friendship.

I think that when it comes to the sexual population’s disconnect from gray-area nonsexual relationships (romantic friendship, passionate friendship, and primary nonromantic relationships), there are really only two explanations:

1. They can’t feel the feelings that fuel these kind of relationships.

2. They can feel the feelings that fuel these kind of relationships, but through their own social conditioning, they come to believe that such relationships do not and cannot exist and have nothing desirable to offer. In the event that they do feel emotions for someone that are naturally of the gray-area nonsexual friendship kind, they mistake those emotions for romantic and sexual and thus pursue a romantic-sexual relationship with someone they actually want to be romantic friends/passionate friends/nonromantic primary partners/super close QP friends with. Or, they don’t act on their feelings at all. And then, despite feeling these feelings, they act totally confused and weirded out and dismissive and even shitty when asexuals bring up the subject of romantic friendship or passionate friendship or nonromantic primary friendship because they feel the need to uphold their own culture’s teachings on love and relationships despite the fact that their own emotional experiences prove those norms to be bullshit.

I think this is the perfect scenario in which to apply Occam’s Razor, which is a a logical principle that basically says when you have competing hypotheses, the one that makes the fewest assumptions is the best one. So, simplest explanation is the likeliest.

Clearly, that would be #1.

The explanation of why sexual people can’t and don’t have these kinds of friendships matters to me personally because it determines how I feel about the situation. If romantic-sexual people can’t feel the feelings necessary for these types of friendships–they literally cannot feel nonromantic/nonsexual love as deep, intense, sensual, and emotional as the kind that fuels these relationships, regardless of what they intellectually think about the relationships–then I can’t hold that against them. It sucks, but it can’t be helped. It’s no different than asexuals, myself included, being incapable of feeling sexual desire for other people, especially in the context of romantic love. If we’re simply built for different kinds of relationships, then it’s pointless to get upset about being unable to connect to sexual people in these ways that matter to me, because they didn’t choose to be what they are and can’t choose to be any different.

But if they are capable of these feelings that can lead to these friendships and they never act on them, they stay firmly closed to these alternative friendships, they doubt or dismiss or criticize them, they act as if asexuals are freaks for wanting friendships like that and engaging in them whenever we get the opportunity, they try to impose their false readings of romance and sex onto our romantic friendships/passionate friendships/primary QP relationships, etc….. then, sexual people are just boring, conformist assholes about the whole thing and letting culturally sanctioned romance supremacy and sex supremacy rule the way all human beings form relationships without ever critically thinking about their own emotions or how they do relationships and why. What’s worse, they’re controlling the odds of asexuals getting the romantic friendships/passionate friendships/primary nonromantic partnerships some of us want from that place. In which case, I have no respect for them and solid reason to resent them.

So, I’m leaning toward this theory as a way to explain what I’ve lived and what I see in the world. I think the only thing that holds me back from fully adopting it is the obvious: if romantic-sexual people, on the whole, can’t feel these particular friendship feelings I’ve been feeling my whole life, then there’s no hope of ever having a romantic friendship or any other type of serious/intimate/alternative friendship with any of them. Not a single romantic-sexual person I meet, as long as I live. I’ve already pretty much concluded that I can never have the relationships I desire with romantic-sexual people, more from the standpoint of Explanation #2, but adopting the Theory of Emotional Difference would makes it 100% impossible. Which does not bode well in the event that I slip up one day and lose control of my emotions long enough to get seriously attached to someone who’s a romantic-sexual person. Unrequited love–I’ve had enough of that crap for one lifetime.