Think back to a time before you could really love someone. Think back to elementary school when everyone was on an equal playing field, when attractiveness didn’t matter because you just weren’t sexual enough to care. Remember feeling safe in the asexuality and relieved that there’d be no judgments about your hair, skin, and body. Pray that it would stay this way forever. Dread the moment people start to acknowledge each other as body parts that could give them pleasure. Then have your worst fears confirmed and get left behind.
Come into your own when you’re in college and fall in love with someone. Have it happen very fast, like brief flashes of light, and watch it end before it ever really begins. Maybe it lasts six months, maybe it lasts two years. The actual length doesn’t matter because when it’s all over, it will feel like the realest thing that’s ever happened to you.
Assume that you will just get into another relationship. Isn’t this how it works? Someone loves you once so somebody else will surely do it again. You have the mark now. You have the “I’ve been in a relationship before and it was pretty healthy and good, so don’t be scared. Loving me is totally do-able!” mark. People will see you and they’ll just know. They’ll know your lovable.
Something happens. Maybe you graduated college and lost your strong network of friends. Finding a relationship is harder now. You actually have to work at it whereas before it usually just fell into your lap. You’re no longer guaranteed to meet new people. Your life isn’t as open as it used to be. Working to be social. What a strange concept.
Float through the days. Watch yourself become more and more locked up. Flinch when someone brushes your shoulder on the street and marvel at what you’ve been reduced to. You’re someone who once had amazing sex and been in love and now you’re getting your breath taken away by a passing stranger. How does one get to this point? Is it possible to find your way back? Is it possible to have a healthy amount of sex again and not give a crap if someone brushes your body at a bar. After all, it’s just touch.
Yes, you can. You can meet the love of your life. You can meet them in a bookstore, in a coffee shop, at a party, at a bar, through friends of friends, on the Internet, whatever. The trick to finding this person though is to never resign yourself. Never let the lonely days swallow you up, never accept that you’ll just be one of those people who doesn’t get to be loved. Because the second you start believing it, it can become true. That’s the scary part. How quickly days can turn into years. Just like that. I’ve always said that the whole “love comes to those who aren’t expecting it” is BS. Who ISN’T expecting love? I didn’t expect love for two solid years and guess where it got me? Celibacy. You should always expect to be loved, you should always expect to find somebody to love because if you don’t, you do get your worst fears confirmed and then you’re a goner. Then you’re denying yourself what you deserve. What you can certainly have.