[This post was originally written by site member Vittoria on February 28, 2008]
Sex is great. Fan-bloody-tastic. Not only is it fun, it’s good for you. Burns calories, reduces stress, lowers risk of heart attack, prostate cancer and endometriosis, reaffirms the emotional bond between partners. If people spent more time blowing each other they’d have less time to blow each other up—Make Love, Not War and all that. I love sex. More people should have it (safely). I don’t feel compelled to jump in the pile, but that doesn’t mean I don’t think anyone else who wants to shouldn’t. There are a lot worse things people could be doing with their bodies.
Yes, I’m one of those sex-positive asexuals, which some take to mean an asexual who has sex, but I’m at a loss to find a better phrase for being asexual but endorsing sex as healthy and natural. Some asexuals think every single thing to do with the act is gross, gross, gross and want to hear, see or think about none of it. Those people make me feel lucky that I find sex interesting, intellectually at least, because hating sex while living in the modern world would be rather like disdaining oxygen. It’s everywhere, so either find something about it interesting or resign yourself to being a life-long grump monkey.
I’ve been interested in sex since I was a pre-teen. As a teenager I realised that though I found sex fascinating the physical act didn’t interest me. That discovery didn’t dampen my intellectual interest, however; it made sex even more interesting because it seemed such a driving force for so many people even though it wrecks lives and can have disastrous consequences. Anything with that kind of power is inherently fascinating, as are the ever-shifting social mores and taboos.
Then there are those who protest, “But surely, if you enjoy thinking about it so much you must really want to do it!” To that I say that I’m also fascinated by serial killers—it doesn’t mean I’m planning a spree. I find many things I’m not personally interested in utterly captivating. Their very popularity is what mystifies and compels me. Certain celebrities (whose massive popularity despite their lack of talent or intelligence) fall into the same category.
Having no vested interest in sex can give a person a more unprejudiced view of the mattress rodeo. From a purely anthropological view sex is grossly inaccurately portrayed by the media, abstinence-only education is an excellent way to support the tide of unwanted pregnancy and STDs, and people aren’t doing nearly as many kinky things as frequently as you might think.
Something I love about being a sex positive asexual are the responses from sexual people I receive. People never expect you to have seen a porno or know what bukkake is, let alone where the G-spot is located or that the real person in control in a dominant-submissive scene is the submissive partner. There is a special kind of joy in being able to talk unflappably about things that turn even your most liberal friends a lovely puce. They want to know why I’m such a pervo and I say that sex is like a restaurant—sexual people find the things they like and stay with that part of the menu, but asexuals (of the sex positive variety) wander by the buffet and check everything out because it’s all odd to us. Sure, some things are at the farther end of the wowwee spectrum, but for the most part it’s all baffling to us. We’re not thinking of ourselves in those situations so it’s more academic and less personal. Sex positive asexuals can be a sex positive sexual’s best ally.
And, of course, we don’t mind listening to you bitch about how annoying sex is, either.