Ultravirgin

Without shame, I have repeatedly branded myself as a pervert, everywhere online where it is appropriate. And so one might think I like sexual intercourse. But I don't.

I had always thought that a person like me who has an extreme fascination with sex and the erotic cannot by any definition be asexual. Lots of people think this too. But it's not true.

I generally go by the plain general label of asexual. To be more specific, I am also sex-repulsed. I don't like sex, I don't like having sex, I don't like sex jokes, I don't like sex in fiction—however if you have browsed this site even for just a minute, you might think this is completely contradictory. There exists the term sex-averse and it also applies to me at times. Sometimes I can handle sexual topics. Though I find that referring to myself as sex-repulsed is more convenient for image-sake as a filter for social interactions. Returning to the mentioned conflict—to clarify, I am utterly disgusted by sex. But my disgust is something I hold dear.

Why? Everything is sex. Sex is so much more than genitals connecting and orgasms or whatever yucky. Anything concerning bodies interacting is sex. Physics, chemistry, biology, math, the humanities—it's all sex!!! I just cannot avoid it, you see? But I'm convinced this is a beautiful thing. A beautiful thing in the same way nature gets you covered in filth; nature is dirty, and nature is. We live in this principle of entropy and it's called love.

People don't see the label "pervert" as fondly as I do. I am aware of the highly associated negative connotations of that word and manage the shame of it responsibly (or not). I mean no harm and would rather not deal harm. Perversion is merely the act of transforming an idea, framing it differently from meaning to another. My favorite definition from Merriam-Webster puts it succinctly: to "twist the meaning of". Uneeded are any mention of the path of this perversion, conventionally defined as towards a state of wrong, because this world isn't born into a dichotomous form.

Crushes

Bodies are curses. Sounds sad, and you might think I'm broken or whatver, but I really don't have to be that way in your eyes. Pain is quite important sometimes. Especially when it feels good.

My heart is still subject to throbbing—a genuine pain in my chest and a nausea that clouds me. The object of desire occupy my thoughts too much. It's annoying. It's a nuisance. I have come around to referring to the resulting infatuation as a "crush". It has put me in elation many times before. So happy. So destructive.

This attraction instills desire in me that I must enact upon. It's a lot like cuteness aggression but not that exactly; I definitely feel aggressive, but not because of cuteness. It's not a sudden wave of sexual or romantic attraction. It is a type of attraction, but what specifically, I do not know. Often I want nothing to do with the person, not even platonically.

Methods of soothing these feelings are still something I'm trying to figure out. I have found that confessing worked—for a while at least. It's plain honest confession to the target, but it is a last resort when desperation gets the best of me. Often these crushes just dissipate on their own. Yet I have found they return on certain occasions. Letting fantasies play out in the imagination is too much of a direct mental assault for me, and it cannot be used as a coping mechanism. It's like my horns digging into my own eye sockets.

Obsessions

I suppose I do have "fetishes". I don't like "fetishes" or "kinks" as terms to describe what I like because these terms are very much tied to the idea of the haver being sexually aroused by so and so. I don't get aroused that way and I don't like giving people the idea that I do.

According to Merriam-Webster, the sexual connotations of "fetish" is a relatively recent thing. In its history it initially was a term that was meant to describe "objects of reverence", such as sculptures and idols, little dolls. Interestingly, its origin word meant something along the lines of "artificial", "false" or "facetious". The term "fetish" itself would then have been one of my favorites for this reason, if not for the fact that it came to existence for a racist purpose. I'm more drawn to the term "fixations" or "obsessions" for describing the patterns that charm me.