07/14/2012

My bridesmaid dress came today.  The color is not quite what I thought it would be.  It’s darker than it looked in the picture.  It’s okay, though.  I’m so pale that I can rock dark colors.  I need to take the dress to a tailor, assuming that tailors still exist.  I think it was made for a woman about two and a half feet taller than I am. 

The dress is sleeveless, which I need to work on.  There’s a whole world of cardigans out there waiting for me to discover them.  I suppose I could have plastic surgery before October, except I’m dirt poor and I don’t actually want to get rid of my scars.

I had to pass up swimming today, which was a pity as it was almost 90 degrees.  I mean, I live on the fucking beach, you’d think I’d be swimming every day.  But I don’t like to leave the house.  There’s cancer-sun and really large insects. 

I was willing to suspend my hatred for sun and bugs, though, except the bruising on my legs is too extensive and obvious to wear shorts.  I kind of figured if someone asked, I could just say, “Oh, no, it was my abusive boyfriend; he kicks the shit out of me.”  That would be awkward because everyone knows I don’t have a boyfriend, let alone an abusive one.  The only abusive person in this relationship is me.

Speaking of, I was thinking today that it might be easier if I were gay.  People understand homosexuality.  Many people don’t like it, but they acknowledge that it is, in fact, a thing.  A possibility.  With asexuality, people do NOT acknowledge that it is real.  I “haven’t met the right person yet,” usually.  They fail to comprehend that I do not want to have sex.  With anyone.  Ever.

It’s difficult to explain. 

Okay, so, I see a cute guy.  My brain says, “Hey, he’s cute.”  I enjoy looking at him.  That’s it.  And honestly?  The same thing happens with cute women.  “Hey, she’s cute.”  Nothing after that.  I just don’t…care.  I don’t know how other people go from “Hey, he’s cute” to sex.  What’s the sequence of thoughts and feelings?

I am legitimately curious.

I’m almost 26, and I’ve still never had sex, and it doesn’t bother me all that much, except in a clinical sort of “missing important life goals” kind of way.  I don’t pine for the love of a man.  Or woman.  I just don’t care.  I have a list about a thousand items long of things that are more interesting to me than sex.  Video games, my cats, new super hero movies, overly dramatic fan fiction, historical particularism, biological anthropology, baking…

There’s a part of me that wants a relationship, but I’m so emotionally stunted that I’ve largely removed that as a possibility in my life.  I mean, there’s not a lot of people around who would want to date what is essentially a melodramatic 15-year-old in a 25-year-old body.  Oh, wait.  A melodramatic 15-year-old in a 25-year-old body who is also  completely indifferent to sex.  Let’s be realistic.

I am.

Or I’m irrational.  I’ve heard that enough, it might be true.