Page 30 of Christmas Crisis
“Deal. As long as you touch me, hold my hand, and do whatever floats your boat to show affection.”
“You wouldn’t think of that as taking advantage?”
“No. You’ve been clear, and I trust your words, so there are no mixed signals. And I enjoy our closeness too.”
I squeezed my eyes together, resting my chin on her head. “You have no idea how grateful I am for what you’re offering, and for being able to communicate about everything.”
“Did you really think I wouldn’t be okay with this? That I would judge you?”
“Not really. But I’ve had a few unpleasant experiences.”
“I’m sorry, Bear.” She drew Xs over my heart with her pointer finger.
“S’okay. That’s why I don’t really talk about it. Easier to hide than risk blowing up people’s expectations.”
“Ah…I understand.” She peeked up with a devilish glint. “People assume because you look like Thor that you must be interested in hammering?”
I laughed. “Jesus, Panda.”
“Thunder between the sheets?”
This woman. My grip on her tightened.
“God of the bedroom?”
I kissed the top of her head. “I’m so thankful for you,” I mumbled into her hair. “But in all seriousness, I decided a long time ago not to talk about it. Even James and my parents don’t know.”
I didn’t go into detail. Maybe someday I’d tell Miranda about how I’d forced myself to try things when I was younger, thinking I just needed to find the right situation and get some experience under my belt. About how my college girlfriend broke up with me because of my lackluster performance in the bedroom. How I’d dated girl after girl in my early twenties, hoping to generate the spark everyone else seemed to feel. Eventually, I’d stopped trying because I felt so uncomfortable rebuffing their advances. Cringing, I thought of the girls who’d angrily accused me of leading them on. I’d made women upset when they interpretedmy lack of sexual interest as me thinking they were undesirable. I didn’t know how to explain myself to them when I wasn’t sure about things in my mind.
When I was twenty-three, I met Ilona, and she was the first person I had something of a genuine connection with. Feeling a seed of a romantic bond, I thought maybe I’d conquered whatever had been holding me back.
I got to know her, we went on some promising dates, and I began introducing her as my girlfriend. It elated me to feel sonormal. But our bedroom problems started almost immediately. I couldn’t get hard all the time, and I didn’t want intimacy as often as she did. There was no way to hide how unenthusiastic I was about going down on her.
Ilona was the first person to propose to me that I might be asexual. Once she said it, I did some research, and everything clicked.
Asexuality was a huge spectrum, different for everyone, but the idea of not being sexually attracted to anyone resonated with me. And I had an aha moment when I connected the dots that my place on the ace continuum extended to having very few close friendships. I realized how difficult it was for me to connect with anyone in a truly emotional way. I was tight enough with my family, and I had some people I considered “good” friends, but even with them, it took a while to get there.
“It really is too bad,” Ilona had said, walking out of my apartment for the last time. “You’re so hot. What a waste.”
Those final words, somehow both bitter and passive-aggressive, stuck with me. Echoed through the room and my brain. Stayed with me afterward. Was I a waste? I wrestled with that idea for a long time. Years. If I couldn’t be someone’s lover, was I less of a person?
Over time, I rejected the premise. I couldn’t be a lover or an intimate friend. But I could be a good brother, a gym buddy, an excellent construction worker. I could have a fulfilling life.
Then Miranda laughed with me in her sister’s carport and immediately guessed that people compared me to Thor. She liked the same things I did, called me Leo-Bear, and told me how she wasn’t quite the person everyone thought she was. I recognized a kindred spirit, and for the first time in forever, I felt an immediate connection to someone. Comfortable enough to touch her. And be myself with her. It wasn’t romance or sexual attraction, but it was love, in its way. And if she was willing, I planned to share it with her however she’d let me.
“I’m glad you told me,” Miranda said, bringing me out of my thoughts. “It’s brave of you to speak your truth. To own it. And I love you so much, Bear. You’re even more my best friend now.”
I ran my hand up and down her back. “Thank you.”
She chuffed. “We certainly are good, both of us, at putting on faces for everyone.”
“Nothing wrong with that. Keeping things copacetic. We can’t help what comes naturally.”
“True. But when it’s just us, let’s always be real.”
“Deal.” I kissed the top of her head again.
She sighed into my chest, and my dick twitched.
