As of late I am musing on sexuality and personal fulfillment. As an Aspie, I turn to the internet for most of my social interactions. My Instagram page of late has been wholly devoted to my cats. I have also been subscribing to many animal pages in turn. My feed transforms from random scenes of my friends’ lives into an endless display of cute, furry creatures. The ensuant lack of envy is palpable. I have unfollowed any of my well-off and well-traveled acquaintances, satisfied to only be exposed to those equally subsumed by the daily grind. This mediocrity placates me with a sense of okayness. Everyone else that I am exposed to is struggling as much or more than I am, therefore I am doing just fine. I acknowledge that I am creating an echo chamber of suffering as a way of relieving my own guilt for not succeeding in the way my younger self envisioned. I attended photography school. I was an artist...a visionary. I was smarter than everyone and a diligent worker. I would become rich and famous on my brilliance alone.
Reality eventually caught up with me. I was serially dating men as a way to distract from myself. It was so easy to blame them for my lack of growth and success. I was “tied down.” After yet another failed long-term relationship back in 2010, I finally felt ready to spend some time alone. Some years went by and then I got whammied by a narcissist and soon after, an Asperger’s diagnosis. I’m finally to the point where I acknowledge that social anxiety, mostly due to Asperger’s, has played a huge role in my (lack of) career and my interpersonal relationships.
Oh snap, it’s not you, it’s me.
I’ve been on antidepressants for a few years now, and that has had some surprising side-effects. Number one is my lack of desire for sexual relationships, and for the most part, human companionship. I think having cats is partly to blame, but I can see the drop off in my interest in dating right around when I started taking medication. My libido is at a lifetime low. Some of this may be due to the fact that I am feeling more self-fulfilled and less needy of a human to complete me. My fear is that this medication is falsely sending me signals of fulfillment when I know my life would be more complete with the companionship of a fellow human, with whom I could go on adventures with.
I joined Tinder recently, with great feelings of MEH about the whole thing. I did go on one date which was neither amazing nor awful. Neither of us has pursued any further social interaction, so I guess I’m calling it a draw.
In recent days, I have found myself being drawn back to one of my long-lasting categories of lust: the long haired, slightly effeminate male. After briefly dating a narcissist that came startling close to my physical ideal, the mere sight of a long-haired pretty boy could shut me down. Even tall women with broad shoulders and long blonde hair were triggering. I saw him everywhere, in everyone. Even now, when I look at a photograph of a clean shaven man with long, straight blonde hair and blue eyes, I begin to feel nauseated. Bearded men, and men with different eye colors and hair textures and more muscular builds are far less upsetting to me. I’m slowly adding this type of man into my Instagram feed. The results have been interesting. At times I can feel my libido stirring, but then I’ll hit one that looks too similar to the narcissist, and I find a strange push/pull between attraction and revulsion. Many of these men are self-aware of their beauty and their confidence in their abilities of seduction show in the images. These are the ones I tend to shy away from. I fear those that are aware of their power. I can imagine being aroused by them, and opening myself to them, when I immediately switch in my imagination, to being judged by them, and not good enough or sexy enough for them. This kills the fantasy, and again, the libido.
I do remember having fulfilling sex while on this medication. It was with a friend of a very long time, who I have loved dearly for over a decade. His Asperger’s is untreated and his fear and aversion are much greater than mine. I was able to open myself up to him in a way I had not been able to since the narcissist. Unfortunately, his walls are too thick to accomodate me in any permanent fashion. I’d like to believe that this sort of connection is available to me elsewhere, but as of yet, I have found nothing.
I’m trying to fill in the gaps as I figure out how to be a sexual being again. In a vague way, I know I am missing human companionship, even if my loins don’t acknowledge it. Everyone my age seems terrified of taking a risk, myself included. Everyone I try to engage walks away. Is it me? Is it them? Is it a poor match? Is it fear?
I still dream of being a wife…a mother. Are these realistic goals? How are they achieved? Can I maintain my integrity and still have these things? Can I afford them?
At one point in my life, these goals seemed natural. Nowadays, even a good date seems beyond reach. Where are my soul sisters and brothers? I can’t be the only one.
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