Algo Novo

(Not)casual

I've always determined myself as someone who was not casual.

Maybe because I knew how easy it was for me to feel things for people — people who I didn't really know, and yet liked —, or maybe because I wanted to be honest about my "hopeless romantic" nature. I don't know. I even called myself a demissexual for the most part of my adolescence, because I truly believed that's what I was. I felt described, I felt found when I heard about it, but even more: I felt justified. I liked the fact I had an excuse to how still my love life was. Because I had chosen it, right? And that's who I was. A girl that never saw herself as someone capable of having a fling. Something casual. No strings attached. But...

Why?

Why the hell did I never see myself as someone who could just... do stuff, no worries needed whatsoever? Why have I always put myself in that position? And that's what motivated my way into writing this text: the questioning of my own fucking ideas about my-own-fucking-self. Cause I realized the reason I've been doing it, might be because that's actually my only option. You see: it's not either easy or attractive the fact that I function differently when it comes to my needs — the biological ones, including the way I use or do not use the bathroom, and the panties I do or do not use. But that's natural, to me. It's something that I accept and deal with, normally, literally every single day. The problem is that it's not natural to others. And then, suddenly, something that was supposed to be worrie-and-explanation-free, becomes the biggest deal right in the first interaction. There's no "where at?" when you have to say "sorry, I have some warnings about how different this experience could be for you to do first".

So, the point that I'm trying to make is: I couldn't be casual even if I wanted to. What means I had never chosen it. I had never been given the opportunity to do it differently, at least not the "all the way" experience, and not as casually as it could be if I weren't me. And that, naturally, makes me feel very foolish. Maybe sad, too. And I don't know what to with this conclusion, cause therapy day isn't coming soon, and it actually feels a bit pathetic that I'm insecure about this kind of bullshit. Mostly because I, indeed, am someone that feels a lot, and that possibly would be miserable doing casual relationships. But I guess I'll never know, right? I'll never fucking know, and that's the issue.