Roughly 2 per cent of adults identify as asexual. Photo / Getty Images
Roughly 2 per cent of adults identify as asexual. Photo / Getty Images
For better or worse, sex has always been a critical part of my life.
Though it never felt "right" during the many years I shared it with men, the idea of an existence in which sex doesn't factor in at all is hard for me to imagine.
But for roughly 2 per cent of people, this is the case.
"I was always fairly nonchalant about sex in general. I could quite easily never have it and lead a normal, happy life," Elizabeth, a 29-year-old woman who identifies as asexual, tells me.
If you've never heard of it – and chances are, you might not have, given the term has only made its way into the LGBTQ Zeitgeist in recent years – asexuality (sometimes referred to as being "ace") is a lack of sexual attraction to others, and a low or absent interest in sex.
"For people who identify as ace, it's not a phase. It's the way they are," psychosexual therapist, Christopher Brett-Renes explains.
And this is important to note, because asexuality – as opposed to celibacy – isn't a choice.
Asexuals often describe their inherent lack of sexual attraction to others as akin to the absence of desire heterosexual people feel toward their own gender. It's not about having a "dry spell" or choosing to abstain from sex; it's an identity.
"The longer I go without sex, the more in tune I am with myself," Penny, a 36-year-old double divorcee, tells me.
It's an illuminating explanation, because that's ultimately what sexual orientation comes down to – being ourselves. And it's an experience Penny and I share, given I came to terms with my own sexuality earlier this year.
Nadia Bokody is a YouTuber and sex columnist for news.com.au. Photo / Instagram
But while Penny says leading her life authentically means indefinite singledom – "I'm not sure if I'll ever need or want a romantic relationship again" – ace-identifying individuals can and do have fulfilling romantic relationships; even ones that include sex.
"I still have sex and still have a partner, but sex is not a need for me. I have sex for intimacy and primarily to please my partner and be close to them," Elizabeth tells me.
In fact, it's a huge misconception asexual people are simply sexually numb.
"I masturbate and enjoy an orgasm, but partnered sex for me is less about sex and more about connection," Penny explains.
And her sentiment isn't uncommon. In a survey of Australian asexuals by the Asexual Community Survey, just 20 per cent of respondents said they never masturbated.
"It's important to remember that asexuality is a spectrum," Brett-Renes emphasises.
"People who identify as asexual can still have a desire to masturbate as well as romantic attraction. While asexual people may not necessarily experience sexual attraction, it is not due to a lack of sex drive."
Indeed, going through a period of sexlessness in your relationship is incredibly common and not an indication on its own of asexuality.
This is particularly crucial for women to note, because of the pressure our culture places on us to perform sexually for our partners. Women in sex-starved relationships may incorrectly assume they're asexual when they've just been struck by sexual boredom or haven't learned to prioritise their own pleasure during partnered sex.
"I do see people who mislabel or are mislabelled by a partner. Often in those situations, there is a far more complex reason for their lack of interest in sex," Brett-Renes confirms.
For this reason, it may be worth investigating if you have no interest in sex itself, or if your lack of desire is limited to your significant other. In which case, it's worth speaking to a qualified psychosexual therapist like Brett-Renes and addressing whether your relationship has run its course.
But while forgoing sex indefinitely may be inconceivable to some of us (myself included), it's completely possible to live a full and pleasure-filled existence without it.
Asexuals like Elizabeth and Penny tell me they don't feel like they're missing out because sex doesn't factor into their lives. Though Elizabeth says she'd be more open about being ace if she didn't face as much judgment. And this really hits home for me, as someone who spent my twenties and early thirties concealing my own sexuality.
"I likely won't ever share this with friends and family," she admits.
