I’m not certain when sexuality became the openly defining characteristic of human existence. And I’m not talking about sex appeal or looking or feeling sexy. I mean announcing to everyone at every opportunity to whom you are sexually attracted. It’s a bit odd but not nearly as annoying as insisting that I not only care but “see you,” respect your choices, and salute your flag.
Why bring it up?
I accidentally found myself on MSN.com, and before I could scrape it off the bottom of my digital footprint, an article popped up about a woman who, after thirty years, realized she was an abrosexual. Ooh, what’s that about, I say? (I am attracted to stories about the ‘diversification’ of the culture.)
“I didn’t learn about abrosexuality until two years ago, when I was 30. Up until that point, I’d struggled to identify what my sexuality was because it fluctuated so rapidly. There were times that I too scoffed, chastising myself for being so uncertain of who I was. It wasn’t that I couldn’t make my mind up, but rather my identity shifted. One day I felt like I was a lesbian, yet days or weeks later, I’d feel more aligned with bisexuality. My sexuality was fluid.”
Fluid. Like water that can run … to one of two places. My spellchecker clears up this distinction without a difference by trying to change abrosexual to bisexual. I stopped it, the bigoted thing that it is, then I looked it up.
“Abrosexual means a person who experiences fluctuating sexual orientations over time.”
It is like bisexuality and pansexuality, but different. How so? Bisexuality is when someone might find themselves “romantically attracted” to people with either a penis or a vagina. Pansexuals can be or are attracted to people who happen to have either a penis or a vagina. Abrosexuals are people who could find themselves attracted to people with either a penis or a vagina.
In all fairness, I should include how they might be attracted to someone who used to have either a penis or a vagina after having it removed (or both a penis and a vagina), but as it turns out, the glorious spectrum isn’t as diverse as it thinks. Heterosexuals are (by the way) people who are attracted to either a penis or a vagina but are not allowed to have pride or gang colors.
That just seems unfair.
No matter what the “romantic” feeling, preference, impulse, deference, urge, or longing, there are still only two sets of parts to desire, or the not desiring of either, which is a legitimate choice but not a third set.
Be You!
If you want to hold someone’s hand, and they want to hold yours, whatever two consenting adults do with each other after that is nobody else’s business (unless it’s with someone else’s special someone). Inviting additional participants is not verboten, but consent is still required with a warning label. The additional “feelings” multiply not sequentially but exponentially.
That’s still not my problem, the same way your job, hobbies, diet, or creepy landlord who hasn’t fixed the drippy faucet in your retro-70s half-bath are not my problems. Be you. Do your thing. And I hope you find happiness and it all works out but I don’t need to know unless I ask. I also don’t need to know what foods you like and dislike unless I’m supposed to feed you, but if you are a big fan of cheeseburgers, why isn’t there a flag for that?
Hunger is a feeling, right?
Everyone gets a trophy.
Whatever your sexual or romantic instincts, whether a fixed or moving target, the need to name it, give it a flag, and then wave it at people who are expected to know and understand your special circumstances reeks of the everyone gets a trophy culture. We are all special, but these days, what’s special is people who don’t shove that in your face and get mad if you don’t smile, nod, and bless their choices.
And parades?
Pretend for a moment that wearing your sexuality on your sleeve might be an overshare whether you are hetero, homo, pan, bi, Trans, Abro, or one of the other states of sexual being (all restricted to the same two sets of plumbing). Alone with a special friend or in a group, human beings arrive on the earth with two choices – everything else is an affectation or an embellishment (can you say social construct?) to which – I will argue – like owning more than one outfit, you are entitled.
If you are attracted to left-handed albino lesbians, good for you. I happen to be very fond of a particular adult female, brunette, whom I married, and I will love no other until death does us part. For reasons I cannot explain, I prefer brunettes. Most of my pre-marriage girlfriends were brunettes, including one who colored her hair blonde. Good for me. I don’t need a flag or an award.
And I’m not going to expect you to be me – and not you. Go about your life contributing in whatever meaningful way you can manage and leave the “whom you feel like having sex with” talk to your besties or therapist(s) (or Substack subscribers). Most everyday adults don’t care, and if they do, tell them – or tell them to mind their own business, and I think you’ll discover that the world works as well or better as a result.
We all have a lot more in common than not.
If you find your “preference” affects your work or social life, it might not be your lifestyle choices but how you wear them. The problem might be you. Yes, there are bullies in the world but there always has been. History has no shortage of people who could behave better.
We could just give them a flag of their own, but another lesson from history is that this might make them act out more, and it almost never ends well.
| Substack
