8 Things People Who Don't Care That Much About Sex Are Tired Of Hearing

I'm not really sure how often we're "supposed" to think about sex, but I've always had the impression that I'm a little bit on the far end of from what's considered a "normal" attitude about sex for a 20-something woman. I knew I was already pretty disinterested in getting into sexy times as early as high school. I was decidedly a late-bloomer, and was unbothered by that fact. It wasn't until I got to college that some honing signal activated and I was like, "Oh, wait—maybe bumping uglies isn't terrible and gross. Maybe people enjoy it." Even then, though, I never went out of my way to seek it out. My feelings about having versus not having the sex can be summed up in one emoticon: ¯\_(ツ)_/¯.

It's not that I am not into the idea of sex altogether, because I definitely have feelings of attraction for people—and when I do, they can be intense. It's just that I feel that kind of attraction with very few humans, and when I don't happen to be feeling it for anyone, I don't miss sex all that much. It's not really a "woe is me" situation; I just don't think about it very often, because for whatever reason, my brain simply isn't hardwired that way. 

I know I'm not necessarily in the majority of humans in that respect, or at least that is what I gather from my friends and the media in general. I can really only gather what I know about sex from my own perspective. A ton of people in my life totally understand this and relate, and a lot of people are like, "Eh, I don't get it, but I respect it." But then, of course, there are the people who "get it" without really getting it, which is when you have to deal with all these tired phrases getting tossed around: 

"It's probably because you're such a goody-goody." 

I get a lot of this simply because I fit into this stereotype when I was a kid. But I grew into a decidedly neutral adult, and what's more is that I know plenty of people who aren't interested in sex who have never identified as "goody-goodies". I'm sure there are a lot of people who abstain from sex for their morals, but some of us aren't abstaining for any reason at all (unless "meh" qualifies). In most cases, nobody pressured us to be a certain way. We just sort of are, and that's that. 

"What are you so afraid of?" 

Um, nothing. I don't regularly wash my car and nobody asks me why I'm afraid of that, so IDK why this question is open season. But let's consider a scenario where I was  a person who felt afraid: How is it in any way helpful bring that out into the open? People who are afraid of sex probably have legitimate and personal reasons for it that they shouldn't have to justify to anybody.  

"Oh, WOW, you must think I'm a total slut." 

The amount of sex you have does not have any stake on your worth as a person. I repeat: The amount of sex you have does not have any stake on your worth as a person. Having a lot of it doesn't make anyone a "slut," and it makes me sad to hear people refer to themselves that way. It makes me even sadder that they are referring to themselves that way under the assumption that non-sexual people were already thinking it. News flash: WE ARE NOT. Plenty of my friends have active and exciting sex lives. Even as a person who doesn't live that kind of life, I am totally supportive of it. Their stories are the best because honestly, no matter how little sex you're having, it's always bizarrely fun to talk about it. There is no judgment. Only oversharing and fun. 

"You just haven't met the right person yet." 

How you feel about sex is a fundamentally you thing, not something that the "right person" will magically change. Even in incidences when I was very sexually attracted to someone, I've still kept the same feelings about sex at my core. I hate this idea that someone has to come "fix" us. We're not, like, suffering over here from our indifference. We don't need someone to "fix" anything. 

"You're probably just not doing it right." 

NOPE. We all took the same health class in junior high, I think we're all good here, Coach. Seriously though, there's no "right" way to do the sex anyway, and this implication from other people is both condescending and insulting. When I'm attracted to someone and have sex with them, I thoroughly enjoy it—therefore I am doing it right. 

"Here, I'll hook you up with so-and-so ... " 

Maybe I'm just getting this because I'm single as hell, but I also notice friends saying this with an idea in their head that they'll introduce me to that one friend of theirs who also isn't having a lot of sex and we will magically transform into SEX MANIACS and everything will be GREAT. But the thing is, people who aren't into the sex actually have no trouble finding people who want to have it with them. I'm entirely confident a few strategic swipes on Tinder could amend that situation for just about anyone. It's just that I don't feel like it. 

"It's just because you're too busy." 

I mean, for most of humanity this is a problem. We are all very busy, which is a consequence of being a human. But I've noticed that when you're really, really attracted to someone, people will find a way to make it work. With people who are less interested in sex, that just happens a lot less often. When it does, we will totally move around our sched to pencil in the sexy times, à la Liz Lemon getting off on organizing sex with James Marsden. (I know his name was Criss in the show, but I refuse to acknowledge James Marsden as anything other than James Marsden because come on.) Just because we don't have those feelings quite as often as everybody else doesn't mean we won't metaphorically shove all the utensils off our work desks when we do. 

"Oh, you poor thing!" 

Aside from the fact that this just oozes unfair sex superiority, it's also just plain...wrong. I've never had a problem with the way that I am, and I'm pretty sure most people who share my feelings about this would agree. I never feel like I'm "missing out" on something I don't really crave in the first place. It's not like feeling one way or the other way about sex is necessarily "better"—they're just different. Spare us the pity parade, K? 

Images: Porche Brosseau/Flickr; Giphy (6) 

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