Permit me my inconsistency: I am not interested in either gender. Although I identify as straight and casual, I’ve realized something about sex: The less you have of it, the less you want it.
I used to be that guy. Go to a bar. Use dating apps. Meet up with lovely women and try to ravage the poor sods. Most obliged. I can be pleasant at times. And I’ve always wanted that. Women respect a man who asks for it politely, I suppose. Worked for me.
But nowadays, I’ve gravitated, even in my art, ever away from sex, and more toward whatever I think my adulthood inevitably should be. I’m 42 this year, and not getting any younger. The bottom line: I no longer even want intercourse, and I definitely don’t want a girlfriend. I don’t want sex. Heck I don’t even want to write about it in my fiction or think about it.
I’m fine with asexuality, and living alone. In fact, I prefer such a predicatment to all other outcomes. I’m a homebody and a recluse. I answer to no one but myself.
I can deal with a gen-z label: Asexuality. Sure, I’ll snag an old beau when I can, Asexuality be damned. Am I even Asexual, then? I mean, I’d probably allow a woman to proposition me for pleasure. No, friends, your Gen Z labels don’t apply. I’m done with sex. I’m something of a millennial, and don’t even bother with it anymore. I’m over it. I’m not even Asexual. I have no label. I’m a sexless moron.
And the worst thing about sex is that everybody wants you to have the child if it occurs. Oh hell no you are not going to get my offspring, lady. No to sex. Somebody else can have children and be a sucker. I’ll take my League Of Legends livestreaming at 2am in the morning over having children, any day. I want my free time all to myself.
