Page 72 of Christmas Crisis
He frowned. “You really thought you couldn’t tell me? Did you think I would judge you?”
“Like I said, the breakup with Ilona was harsh. For a while, I had this feeling like maybe it was something to be embarrassed about. I’ve recovered from that. Mostly. I realize there’s nothing wrong with being asexual. But even though not telling people started as self-preservation, it eventually became a habit.”
“But you told Miranda?”
“I had to. You said it yourself. We have a crazy connection. There was no way for us to be how we are without her knowing. It would be too confusing otherwise. Blurred lines.”
“Makes sense. Since you guys basically act like a couple.”
“I know. But it works for us. I’ve never felt this close to anyone.”
“Then I’m glad you have her.”
“Me too.” I took a swig of my now-lukewarm coffee. “But James?”
“Uh-huh?”
“There is something I can’t tell Miranda. Not yet, anyway.”
He stopped moving. “Alright. Do you want to tell me?” he asked.
I cleared my throat. “Um, yeah… Yeah… I think I need to tell somebody.”
James studied my face, waiting. His forehead lifted in question.
After releasing a huge breath, I said, “The way I feel about her is…changing. Evolving.”
He hummed. “Let me guess. Your feelings are no longer exactly asexual?”
“How did you know?” I frowned.
“Leo, you broke up with Ilona a decade ago. If Miranda is the first person to come along in all that time who you’ve connected with, especially considering”—he waved his hand in a circle in front of me—“how easily you attract people, then she must be pretty special.”
“But it’s hard. I achieved this baseline that worked for me, and now it’s upended. All of a sudden, I’m not asexual.”
James raised an eyebrow. “C’mon. You’re not that old. You must know that sexuality is a spectrum.”
“I know.”
“Then you also know that you’re still ace even if Miranda flipped your demi switch.”
My brows shot up. “My what?”
He smiled. “I guess I’m sensitive to it since I teach high school, and this new generation is going to make sure no one gets stuck in a box. It sounds like you’re making the jump fromasexual and I’m not attracted to anyonetoasexual and I’m only attracted to someone once I’ve developed a deep emotional connection to them. A.k.a. demisexual.”
I pulled out my phone and did a quick search while my brother watched patiently. There was a reputable website for asexuals that had a lengthy list of sub-categories beneath it. And one of the more prevalent types of asexuality was apparently demisexuality.
“This says that demisexuals have to form a close bond with someone before any sort of attraction arises.” I read out loud, but it was more for myself than for James. After finishing the brief paragraph, I looked up at him. “It’s been so long since I went down the internet rabbit hole looking at this stuff. There’s much more here than last time.”
“You really didn’t consider this?”
“That there was a word for it? No, I really don’t care about that. Mostly, I just care about being sure that I feel something deeper than friendship with Miranda. And as of this morning, I’m one hundred percent certain that I do.”
As I skimmed through the articles, I thought about my experiences with my college girlfriend and Ilona. In both instances, I’d gotten to know them first before we started dating. But now I wondered if we’d jumped to the sex part too fast.
With Miranda, there had been such a slow build from instant emotional connection to intense platonic friendship to an inkling of romantic feelings that it felt like that next step—sexual attraction—had actually had enough time to simmer.
“You don’t need to have a name for it,” James said. “There are no hard and fast rules. A lot of people meet someone and want to sleep with them right away. Some people don’t form strong emotional connections but are attracted to everyone. You’re wired the way you are. It’s all good.”
