Intimacy; Defined

intimacy; a question

Pushy, invading fingers touch my body. I'm numb. I tune out and replay my favorite movies in my head. My go-to for these nights is Nemo. It's my favorite.

I moan at all the right times. I speak the filthy words she begs to hear. I push and pull, following the movements of her body with my own. I feel nothing. It's all empty words, empty promises, empty moans. My mind plays Nemo on repeat, tuning out her blissed-out whimpers in favor of the little orange clownfish. It makes these nights all the more bearable.

When it's over, she cuddles up to my side and praises me. Hot air floats over my neck as she tells me how good it was. How good I  was. I wonder what she'd do if she knew that I don't think about her. I never do. It's too painful.

I suppose I should feel guilty about leading her on like this; I should end it. I should be honest with myself and with her, but I'm selfish. She's amazing and she's mine. Funny, brilliant, radiant, happy, optimistic, caring and mine. I don't want to let her go.

Our dates are magical. Waking up next to her in the morning fills my heart with joy. The way her brownish-red pools sparkle when she sees a cute animal sends my heart into overdrive. Everything about our relationship is perfect from our blissful domestic mornings to our long workday routines, to our soft sleepy evenings.

It's just sex. I don't understand it. Why it's necessary, why it matters. I don't feel anything, but that has to be my fault.

I always thought that when I love someone enough, the sexual attraction will come. I know I love her. There's not a doubt in my mind, so why isn't it there?

Some days I stay up, holding her blissfully fucked out body close, wondering what would happen if I tell her the truth. The possibilities haunt me. Would she leave? Would she yell? Would she break up with me, leaving me shattered and in pieces as she goes to find someone new? Someone who could return those feelings?

There are so many other ways to be intimate other than sex. So many ways that I know show my love for her without having to shove my fingers in her, without having to caress her body with my mouth. It's not bad. It's not even terrible, I just don't get any pleasure out of it.

I'm a terrible person.

My heart pushes against the seams at the feeling of holding her naked body close to mine rather than fucking her senseless. Waves of pleasure knock me down when I see her laugh, or smile, or seeing her eyes light up as she tells me about an exciting part of her day. I feel like moaning when she holds me close after a particularly long day and I revel in the warmth that her body radiates. It's a beautiful feeling.

Loving her is a beautiful feeling.

I look down at the bare beauty in my arms. Drooling, hair a mess, sweat beading on her forehead, and still, I couldn't imagine another place I'd rather be. I couldn't think of someone more radiant, not in my wildest dreams.

Unraveling myself from her tight hold, heart-clenching at the whine she let escape, I kiss her forehead before escaping to the bathroom. I want to shower. I need some time alone. To think.

The water pulses a few times before the constant, real sound of droplets hitting the tub helps clear my mind. I step in, hot water hits my body like little snaps of a rubber band. I relish the burn. I relish the pain.

What will I do?

What can I do?

An hour later, I am dried, dressed and even more conflicted than I was before. I couldn't go back to sleep, couldn't hold her when I don't deserve to. I stayed in the small living room. Taking one of the pills from the many bottles in the cabinet, all of which belong to her, but I just need something, anything, to quiet my mind. Even for just a little while.

When I was younger, my friend used to call me "asexual". I had no real understanding of the term, only a vague definition that I didn't pay much attention to, but I hated it. I hated how she said it with such confidence. How dare she acts as if she knows me? How dare she try to label me? What gives her the right? I don't know what I am. I don't know who I am. That's for me to discover by myself. She, nor is anyone else for that matter, allowed to do it for me.

I haven't thought about that word. I hadn't given it any attention. Until now.

So as the sun rises on this rainy October morning, I open google and I type,

'What is asexual?'

Author's Note 🐳
Hi! I hope you guys will like Drew's story! How do you like her so far? Thoughts? Feelings? Hate her? Love her? Let me know!! (I personally have such a soft spot for her! >///<)