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I Don't Label My Sexuality

Why not having a label is okay

By DenisaPublished 4 years ago 6 min read
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I Don't Label My Sexuality
Photo by Sharon McCutcheon on Unsplash

I’ve never much been one for labels.

In my teenage years, I realised that the world was complicated, mysterious, full of secrets and hidden motives. I also found out that human beings were such complex creatures that sorting them into simple drawers felt ridiculous.

Everyone around me talked about sex and sexuality, as teenagers do, and it was the time when lots of my friends came out. I kissed lots of boys. I also kissed lots of girls, a considerably higher number. I only fell in love with boys, though.

What’s more, I’ve never really given much importance to kissing – it’s fun and all but cuddling feels much more intimate to me. I could basically kiss anyone I find aesthetically pleasing and not think much of it, apart from assessing what technique they use, how nice their lips feel and if our kissing rhythm is compatible. Like a fun little social experiment. Kissing someone on the temple and smelling their natural scent, now that is intimate.

I kissed a girl and I liked it

You might understand my confusion when, at 18, I kissed a girl and felt a little… tingling. Until then, this only happened with boys I was strongly attracted to, which usually goes hand in hand with falling in love for me. I felt a new-found affection for my own gender then, one I haven’t experienced before, and it felt… exciting. Strange. Mind-blowing. Queer in the best way possible.

I always said I didn’t like labelling my sexuality because you just never know. You don’t know who’ll come into your life and cause you to fan yourself with your hand, hot with desire. People are often quite unpredictable. Sexuality is mysterious. Our attraction might even change as we evolve – I knew this girl for 4 years at that point and our dynamics suddenly completely changed from just friends to… something else. Still innocent and friendly, but there was undeniably sexual tension.

If someone pushed me to choose my label, I’d say hetero. Bi-curious. But does that describe me well enough after this experience? Am I 99% heterosexual and 1% homosexual? Is that enough to be bi? Wouldn’t I undermine the bi community by calling myself bi? Are there more girls who would make me feel the same way again? I don’t know.

The bottom line is, it doesn’t matter. To me, anyway. I’ll keep exploring. I’ll keep being me. Just me. A complicated creature with complicated psychology, attracted to whoever who comes my way.

The Demisexuality Crisis

Then came yet another label problem.

During the last two years at university, I had only one brief relationship. Other than that, I didn’t find anyone attractive. I always examined how I felt about people in my classes, people in my part-time job, people in… nope, that’s it.

I didn’t go on dates because of my social anxiety. I rarely went out because it’s been extremely difficult for me to find a group of friends that I’d actually enjoy hanging out with. Ah, the struggle of shy introverts.

I started exploring the topic of demisexuality. I didn’t relate to everything, but some of it kind of fit. Yes, I feel used and can’t enjoy sex with people I don’t have a connection with. Yes, I need that emotional connection or that vibe or that click to take things further. I’m not strongly sexually attracted to people all that often, it happens like once every two years! Yes, I hate one-night stands.

My queer friends wanted the best for me and supported me in finding out more about my demisexuality. And it felt good. Suddenly, it felt good to be able to fit in, to have my own flag, my own little community, memes I could at least partly relate to. I went against everything I had previously said, and I put myself in a drawer, and it felt fantastic.

This way, I could go on dates and have people not expect anything from me because I’d just say I’m demi! I’d have enough time to figure out if I fancy them or not without any pressure! Nobody would want me to kiss them on a first date!

So, I finally went on a date. After two years of chickening out of every conversation on a dating app, after two years of installing and uninstalling Tinder, I finally opted for Bumble. I chose someone. I went on a date with them. I cried and almost threw up before leaving the house because of my social anxiety, but I did it. And he was beautiful. On a second date, I knew I was madly attracted to him. We’ve been dating for 6 months now.

And I’ve realised I’m not demi after all. I just didn’t date enough. I don’t know if it was fate or coincidence that I was crazy for the first guy I went on a date with, but it definitely proved to me that I experience sexuality in quite a regular way and I’m probably not on any asexuality spectrum.

I should have known that my apprehension to fully identify myself with the label didn’t only come from my distaste for labels (because some of them I like, I’ll always be a proud INFJ), but also from a place far deeper than that: it just didn’t feel right. There was always a hint of doubt.

Appreciation for labels

I know this must all sound like I think that labels are awful and stupid. I don’t. I believe they can be an important and impactful means of finding our true self, coming to terms with who we are, and connecting with people who are on the same page as us. Finding your label can be healing in so many ways. It can help identify yourself. It can make you grow as a person and learn a lot about yourself – reading about INFJs on 16personalities turned my world upside down because it described me so well.

But that’s the thing. It described me better than demisexuality ever could. I felt seen, known, called out, understood. There is no doubt in my mind that I’m INFJ through and through.

I think labels are a good thing if your desire to use them comes from the right place. Otherwise you undermine not only yourself but also the community. When I validated my feelings as demisexual because I wanted to fit in, I unvalidated the actual demisexual experience at the same time. If I said I was bi to force a label upon myself even when I don’t want one, I would make the label into something that imprisons, when its purpose is to set people free. Let’s be cautious about labels to keep their function intact.

Of course, sometimes things can get difficult – what if it feels right but you’re having Impostor Syndrome? What if you’re doubtful precisely because you don’t want to discredit the community?

At the end of the day, you need to do what’s best for you. Listen to your gut. It knows who you are. It knows what label you should put on your sexuality, or if you even want one.

I know I don’t. As useful as labelling sexuality can be, it’s not for me. And that’s okay. I’m attracted to all future possibilities.

This article was originally published here.

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About the Creator

Denisa

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