I remember it was the first day in my new school. The fact that my dad was an army man had its pros and cons. Constantly shifting from one place to another was the biggest con though. Never staying at one place for more than a couple of years had taken a toll on me, as I never had enough time to make new friends. That’s how it had been for so long. Lonely, if I can say.
Adding to that, I never had a girlfriend, to say the least. It’s not like I never found pretty girls around me, it was just I was never attracted towards them physically. While I would see guys around me falling head over heels for some girls, I never would and that was a problem. At least, that’s how society had shaped me. I knew about people who liked the opposite sex, or same sex, or even both. But for me? I really didn’t know. I didn’t fall into any of those categories. And so I could never connect with someone. Hormones were all the rage in our age, and guys would talk about girls and girls would talk about guys. But I had nothing to say about anyone. All I could talk about was how I liked their mental level or their intelligence, or how I disliked them when they were too pushy, dumb or outright shit towards everyone and everything. But being a guy, I was quite sure I didn’t like guys, nor did I find breast and butt attractive. And living in an age where it was all sexual, I just didn’t seem to fit in. And after a point of time, I stopped trying altogether.
A new school wasn’t a new hope for me, as I had already given up on finding one. I would sit alone, eat alone and go home alone. My parents were worried about it obviously on why I didn’t have friends, or why I never brought a partner home. There had been debates about the same. It wasn’t like I didn’t love anyone. I did, but knowing what would follow, I would back out. Call me a coward if you want, but I really wasn’t into sex. And I knew after a point of time, my partner would want me to get engaged in it. It wasn’t their fault, it was natural. But for me, I was who I was. I didn’t have a sexual appetite, as they call. So a new school wasn’t going to do any wonders for me.
After a couple of classes, we had PE. I was good at it. My dad’s army genes apparently were the only thing that I had inherited from him. But today, I wasn’t feeling too good so I decided just to sit under a tree, and read. It was my solace, and I loved it. Suddenly, I heard this chirp, and to see where it came from, I rotated my head. And I saw this girl, with somewhat short hair, with one chunk covering her eyes. I don’t know what is the term, so pardon. But she looked beautiful, absolutely gorgeous. It wasn’t an everyday thing for me to feel this way. I looked at her for a couple of minutes, observing what she was doing. She was older than me, I knew. I could see maturity in her eyes and body language. I do not know why but I got up and went towards her.
“Hi”, I greeted her, with a smile on my face. Suddenly ‘what have I done?’ came inside my head. ‘Had I just fucked up?’, was all I could think.
“Hi!”, she replied, with a half smile. I could sense ‘Why are you here, stranger?’ coming out of here. So to break the awkwardness between us, I started blabbering.
“Beautiful weather, ain’t it?”, I asked.
“Not really. Really don’t like the sun”, she replied, smiling and then looked down into her book.
“Oh okay. Which book are you reading?”, I asked her, to which she showed me the cover.
“Fifty Shades Freed” read the title.
“Do you mind?”, I asked to sit next to her. “Suit yourself”, she replied.
“Not really into erotica”, I said, trying to open my book to the page I left it at.
“Me neither. Reading just for the writing style”, she said.
“Oh okay”, I replied and started reading again. “What do you want?”, she asked, somewhat abruptly. “What do you mean?”, I asked, quite confused. “You coming here and sitting next to me. Are you here to mock at me as well?”, she said, looking to my eyes. For a minute I thought she was searching for my soul. She looked really deep inside, being honest. “Mock at you? Why? I came here because I found you pretty. Why would anyone mock you? I’m sorry I am new here, today is the first day. I’m really sorry if I offended you in any way, ma’am”, I said, in a very apologetic tone, as she gazed into my eyes without blinking.
“Are you serious?”, she asked, shockingly. “Yes! Why would I lie?”, I replied, exclaiming.
“Why do people mock at you though?”, I asked. “If I don’t tell you now, it won’t matter. You will know about it anyway. It’s better if I tell you, from my perspective. So apparently, a popular senior liked me, and we started dating. I really liked him, and I thought he did too. I was wrong though. He tried seducing me, but he didn’t know that I was asexual. So it didn’t go as he planned and so he spent rumours that..”, she was speaking, as I interrupted her, “You’re asexual? Then how did you like him?”.
“Well, I’m not ‘aromantic’. I’m just asexual. I like to be in love, you know. But when it comes to sexual relations, that’s where I’m not interested at all”, as she was speaking, I was in my own thoughts.
‘Is this possible? Does such a thing exist? Am I the same? Does it explain everything I’ve been through?’
“Um, sorry to interrupt again. But does such a thing really does exist?”, I asked. She laughed, and let me tell you that one of the most beautiful laughs I had ever seen. “Of course. You don’t seem to know much about this stuff, do you?”, she replied.
“No, it’s just I was thinking of considering myself as asexual, but because I do get attracted towards people, I was in denial about the same. But now, I think I might be in the same boat”, I said, smiling, while looking down.
“Um, are you mocking at me?”, she asked, in quite a weird tone. “No! I’m serious. I really didn’t know! Believe me!”, I said, with my hands up.
“Well, in that case, what are you reading?”, she asked as a new chapter in the book of my life began.
-SCAS.
PS Just wanted to throw some light on this part of sexuality. Came to know about it through Bojack Horseman.
PPS, I’m sorry about this. I’ve been trying really hard to write. I’m afraid I’m losing my touch.
The Writing Of SCAS. 