Before I knew asexuality was a possible sexuality, I used to think I was straight because I didn’t like women. For the longest time I only knew the gay-straight binary.
Once, I thought I was attracted to a male friend of mine, and I felt so normal to be able to tell my mom at age 14 that I had a crush. It felt like I was finally being a teenage girl. I told my two best friends about my crush and we giggled because this reminded us of television shows where glossy teenagers spill their secrets to their friends.
I didn’t have the courage to ask my male friend out on a date in person, so I called him up on the phone and eventually said “I really like you and I was wondering if you like me in the same way?” He said no plain and simple. Our conversation was only slightly more awkward than before.
I wasn’t hurt or devastated by the rejection. I was embarrassed that I had asked.
A few years later I was at a friend’s sleepover party and once again we were sharing secrets. I was asked if I had ever had a crush on anyone before and I pretended to think it over. My friend called me out on bull shitting because she had been one of the friends I had told about my crush. Somehow, lying to her was even more mortifying than telling my male friend I liked him.
That sleepover party was four years ago, when I had just begun to identify myself as asexual. I didn’t know how to explain my crush and wasn’t comfortable trying to explain my sexuality.
I’m still friends with this girl-still great friends, really-but I haven’t come out to her. I’m concerned that she will draw on our past experiences and say “You can’t be asexual; you had a crush.” Maybe this is me being paranoid, but people remember how you used to identify yourself and are unwilling to accept changes. There is a strange belief that we are not meant to change.
I had a conversation with a person who used to identify as a lesbian and now identifies as transgender. He explained how difficult it is to tell his friends from high school and his home community because their experience with him is that he has always been a she.
It’s difficult to come out to friends and family who believe identity is a rigid marker. I just want to let people know that it’s okay to change how you define yourself. It’s your body. It’s your gender. It’s your identity.
I still don’t know how to define the crush I had, but I now know that asexuality, like all sexualities, is a scale. It does not make me any less asexual for having a crush. Just as it wouldn’t make someone less straight or less gay for going through a period of questioning. We are meant to change and re-evaluate ourselves.