asexual or just slow moving?

I like guys. I like the concept of dating someone. I’m a mid-twenties, healthy, heterosexual female, so this is expected.

The problem starts however with dates. No one really makes me want to go on a second date. If I like them, things progress and suddenly I’m on a couch, or a bed, and I realize: nope. Nothing. No physical reactions.

What am I doing wrong? Or am I asexual? Do I have bad experiences I’ve suppressed?

When I’m with my college friends, I feel bad about my inability to move forward with something. They love sex, and hook ups, and dates. So they push me to do the same.

When I’m with my home town friends, I could care less. They still know me as crazy and anorexic so being physically healthy is already a win for them.

And then I have a few friends who like to diagnose me. One believes I’m just “over thinking” things. Another thinks I’m asexual.

But everyone feels like there’s something a little off. And I’m confused. What am I supposed to do when my brain wants one thing but my body disagrees and sends me running for the hills?

Is there anyone else whose friends and family all feel a need to voice an opinion on their dating and sexual life? How do you tell them all to fuck off? How do you force yourself to stop worrying about it and just live?


My grandmother died in late February. Since then I couldn’t stomach publishing. Grief is a funny thing.

I’ve had someone who was like a grandfather die before. I ended up with an eating disorder. My grandmother’s death nearly catapulted me into a full blown depression.

She was my second mother. And the only person in the world who I felt completely comfortable around. With everyone else, including the family who I love dearly, my anxiety rules. I always have niggling doubt whether they truly like me or put up with me because we’re family. I always feel like I have to put on a show. But not with my grandmother. Not with the woman who was orphaned at 9 and lived through the Berlin bombings; what would make others bitter and hard only softened her and grew her compassion. I could tell her anything and she would listen without judgment. When I was an annoying prat, I never felt like she held it against me.

I love her. I miss her. Every day. It is an ache that never seems to go away. Though the mourning comes in waves. Some days it’s as if I just realized that she’s gone and the breathlessness of it all catches me by surprise.

For the first time, I have writers block. The words don’t flow like they usually do. It’s like she took it all with her. All my emotional flexibility, all my imagination. It was wrapped up in my childhood and my love and she took such a large part of it with her.

I just want to ask everyone I meet: Have you ever lost someone important? (Most people have). How have you managed to move on? How do you begin to fully live again?