DEAR DR. NERDLOVE: I realized I was asexual a while ago but why do I still have a yearning to be in a relationship? I feel a sense of anxiety like I feel like I’m f--king up or I’m a creep around other people.

Don’t Want What I Can’t Have

DEAR DON’T WANT WHAT I CAN’T HAVE: You’re ace, not a robot, DWWICCH. Being asexual – wherever you fall on the asexuality spectrum – just means that your relationship to sex and sexuality is different than most. You may be sex-repulsed or sex-indifferent, but that doesn’t mean that you don’t want relationships.

Sex isn’t the same thing as love, after all. Nor is it the same thing as intimacy – whether physical or emotional. In fact, one of the largest and most unmet needs in American society is a need for physical contact with others. We’re a social species, and we have a very real need for physical touch. Infants who get an insufficient amount of physical contact suffer from serious health issues; they generate lower levels of growth hormones, they lose catastrophic amounts of weight and may well die because of the complications from failure to thrive. Adults need a certain amount of physical touch, too; not having it causes a condition known as “skin hunger” and end up suffering from depression and anxiety-like symptoms.

Similarly, we have need for emotional intimacy, with people we care for and who care for us. Emotional isolation and lack of emotional connections with others is just as bad for us as a lack of physical touch.

But part of the problem is that we often conflate those forms of intimacy with sex. And while sex is a form of physical (and often emotional) intimacy, it’s not the only one. Those needs don’t go away just because someone isn’t interested in slamming various bits into other peoples’ bits. Nor do we compartmentalize so much that a lack of sexual desire also equates to not having a sexual orientation (for lack of a better term). Ace people can be heteroromantic, homoromantic or bi/panromantic, even though they may not want to have sexual contact with the people they’re attracted to.

And to be clear: people who have very low sex drives, who are completely asexual with no interest in sex or who find sex repugnant can and do fall in love – romantic love – with other people. They still feel the fluttery nerves of early infatuation or get riled up by the dopamine and oxytocin rush of New Relationship Energy, still want to cuddle with their partners, touch their partners and have the casual physical and emotional connection with them. They just don’t necessarily want to f--k.

(And honestly, even that can vary; some ace people will have sex with their partners. But it often is for their partners, rather than something they desire for themselves or for its own sake.)

You’re not f--king up because you’re an ace person who wants to date or find love, nor is it inherently creepy. It’s just part of how you’re wired – one point on the wild multi-axis graph that is the human experience. You’re in a minority, sure… but being in that minority doesn’t mean anything other than just statistical presence in the population.

Getting more comfortable with your sexuality (or lack thereof) is going to be a good start towards recognizing that being ace doesn’t mean being desireless. Visiting the Asexuality Visibility and Education Network at asexuality.org is a good starting point, especially if you can use it as a launch pad to meet others. It might do you some good to find other people in the asexual community and see that you’re not alone or even all that unusual.

From there? Well, I won’t deny that it will be a challenge to find that relationship. The majority the population tend to be allosexual, after all. It may require some flexibility and a willingness to adopt a non-conventional relationship model… but you’re already living an unconventional life. Why shouldn’t your relationship be as unique and special as you are?

This is why it’s important to remember that “a challenge” is not the same thing as “impossible”. As I’m often saying: nobody said that it would be easy. Just that it is worth it.

Good luck.

Please send your questions to Dr. NerdLove at his website (www.doctornerdlove.com/contact); or to his email, doc@doctornerdlove.com

DEAR DR. NERDLOVE: About six months ago, I (m/22) began dating Jamie (f/22)(not her real name). We were introduced through an on-campus comic and geek interest club. We got along great, we had intense chemistry, we liked a lot of the same things and we could at least make a solid effort to appreciate each other’s favorites even if we didn’t share them. For a while, everything seemed great.

But as these things often go, Jamie and I realized we weren’t as compatible as we thought. Last month, we decided to call it quits. No big drama, no terrible fight, just an understanding that, romantically at least, we just didn’t really click and the passion was fading for both of us. It was probably the least painful breakup I’ve ever had, which I guess is a good thing.

Here’s where it gets weird, I guess. I’m used to break ups where we go our separate ways and don’t really see each other ever again. Most of my previous relationships didn’t have this much overlap with my friends or my hobby groups. While the breakup was mutual and we both agreed to stay friends, things have gotten… well, awkward. We’re in the same close-knit group, so avoiding each other isn’t an option and we both go to a lot of the same events or parties and hang out with a lot of the same people.

Every time I go to an event or gathering, there’s this tension. Half the time, I’m wondering if I should go up and talk to Jamie, or if it’s better to keep my distance. Should I crack a joke, or will that be too flippant? And then there’s the rest of the group – they’ve been super supportive, but I can’t help but feel like they’re walking on eggshells around us. The last thing I want is for our breakup to split up the group or make things uncomfortable for everyone else.

So, here’s where I’m hoping your sage advice comes in. How can I make things less uncomfortable? I genuinely want to be friends with Jamie and keep our group dynamics as normal as possible. But it feels like we’re both in this awkward dance, unsure of how to act or what to say.

Since our breakup, attending group events has become increasingly difficult. The tension between Jamie and me is palpable. I’m never sure whether to engage in conversation with them or give them space. Additionally, it feels like the rest of the group is on edge when we’re both present. I’m concerned our personal situation is affecting the harmony of the group, which is the last thing I wanted.

I feel like I’m in a really awkward place about this, because I’m not even sure if this tension is real. I’ve thought about maybe talking to Jamie one-on-one, clearing the air, but I’m not sure how to even start that conversation without making things weirder. And what if they don’t feel the same way? I also wonder if I should talk to the rest of the group about it, or if that’d just be overkill.

I miss the ease of our group hangouts and the camaraderie we all shared. I know things can’t go back to exactly how they were, but maybe it can close? How do I navigate this? And what happens if one of us starts dating again?

Thank you in advance,

Navigating Group Dynamics

DEAR NAVIGATING GROUP DYNAMICS: So, this is a good news/ less good news situation, rather than a good news/bad news one, NGD. I think that the tension you’re feeling with your friends and your club is mostly just you. That’s the good news.

The less good news is that your friends are likely taking their cues from you and your behavior with Jaime. You’re acting awkward around her, she’s probably acting a little weird too and everyone’s just trying to figure out what the new normal is now that you two have broken up.

There’re a couple things going on here, but they all come down to the same thing: it’s a matter of people trying to figure out what the right vibe or behavior is now that things have changed. The tension you’re feeling is the tension between the known (how you and Jaime behaved with each other) and the unknown (what are you to each other now that you’re broken up).

Let’s focus on the situation with you and Jaime for a minute here. One of the tricky aspects of a break up, even with a fairly short-term relationship, is that your dynamic has changed. In every relationship, a couple develops their own vibe or dynamic – some are schmoopy and demonstrative, some are joke-y and banter-y a la Nick and Nora Charles, some are dominant/submissive, some are team players, etc.

This dynamic, in its way, becomes a sort of part of your identity, just as the relationship becomes part of your identity. Your sense of self has expanded to encompass this other person; you’re not just NGD, now you’re NGD-and-Jaime. The longer you’re together, the more firmly this expanded sense of identity becomes a part of your life.

It’s not just the state of Being In A Relationship so much as how you’ve incorporated another person into your life. After all, it’s not like you live your life exactly the same except now there’s another person sitting on the couch with you. You’ve had to make adjustments to schedules, how you do things together vs. separately, you develop responsibilities to one another and so on. If you live together, this becomes even more pronounced, as the two of you work on finding the equilibrium between your daily routine and theirs.

But now that you’re broken up, the dynamic has changed drastically. You’re now in the position of having to re-learn who you are now that you’re not NGD-And-Jaime. You’re not going to be who you were before you dated because time only flows one direction and you don’t forget all the things you learned or changed while you were with them. You’re having to figure out how much of this is going to be incorporated into your current sense of self and how much is going to revert to your previous state… what does or doesn’t change may well surprise you. That could be anything from learning to like new foods or new music, different ways of maintaining your living space to different ways of seeing the world. We are all changed, to an extent, by the people we’ve loved and who loved us.

But this also creates a sort of tension between you and your ex. The longer you’ve been together, the more that the way you act with them becomes muscle memory; the sort of thing you do without even thinking. This can feel uncomfortable or awkward at times, especially in the early days – you fall back into old patterns or behaviors without realizing it. But the circumstances where this behavior was appropriate are gone and so now it feels weird and awkward… especially when you end up doing something on autopilot. In a way, it’s a little like switching between games with radically different controller set-ups; muscle memory says you hit THIS button to do X but in this new game, hitting that button does Y instead. Sometimes that’s just a minor annoyance. Other times, it causes problems that you didn’t expect, because you were acting on autopilot.

But, much as with jumping between games, this is something that gets easier over time. You may have to consciously think to change your behavior for a bit, but you’ll acclimate soon enough. It’s just easier to do when you’re not always around each other, the way you and Jaime are, currently. This isn’t inherently a bad thing, especially with an amicable break up; it’s just easier to sort out your new normal without the other person there to trigger those old habits, just as you’re trying to break them.

That same sort of tension is what your friends are feeling. They’re used to you as a couple and behaving with you a certain way. Now that you’re not a couple, they’re not entirely sure what the best way to act is. And since this is a “there was no bad guy here, we just didn’t work as partners” situation, there’re fewer guidelines than if this were a high-conflict break up.  

Now, fortunately for you and Jaime, this is likely not going to be an issue for terribly long. You were only a couple for six months. That’s enough time to start developing those new habits, but they’re not going to be as firmly set as they would be if, say, you’d been together for six years. That means you’ll find your new dynamic a little faster than you might have otherwise. But the recency of your break up is still going to make things feel a bit weird.

But weird isn’t necessarily bad. It’s just different. The biggest issue I think you, Jaime and your friends are all feeling is that awkward tension of not knowing what to do or say… but also not acknowledging the awkward.

The best thing you can do about this is to just call out the awkward. There’s nothing that breaks this silent tension like calling it out for what it is – you feel weird, she probably feels weird, isn’t that just crazy? I promise you: saying “Ok, so do you feel as weird as I do, now?” to Jaime is going to break the tension like nothing else. In fact, I will all but guarantee that this will get the response of “OH THANK GOD SOMEONE SAID IT” and deflate the tension like a balloon.

Now, this won’t fix everything. It’s still going to take time for you and Jaime (and by extension, everyone else) to figure out your new groove. There’s no way to speed that up that won’t inevitably fail. But the tension will be gone it’ll be much easier to find that new groove without also pretending that nothing has changed or having to tiptoe around the elephant in the room.

Good luck.

Please send your questions to Dr. NerdLove at his website (www.doctornerdlove.com/contact); or to his email, doc@doctornerdlove.com

DEAR DR. NERDLOVE: I’m a 27 year old cis virgin and I don’t like it, not one bit. Because in the year of our God Emperor 2023 confessing to being older virgin especially to women is an incredibly risky and stupid thing to do. It’s possibly the worst thing a man can be, in the eyes of society and lots of women literally no different than confessing to being a Neo Nazi or being a pedophile because nuance is dead and all male virgins are dangerous incels and all incels are virgins, it’s just not possible to separate the two. Like being a virgin automatically cancels out your good qualities; it does not matter if you walk dogs for your no killer shelter or protested for LGBT rights or even are just all the qualities that make a good guy because virginity will just stick out like a disgusting zit on the verge of popping. I understand where means fear and disgust of male virgins comes from considering the vile things they say on those boards (which for the record I’ve never browsed or been on them) and all violent attacks perpetrated by male virgins because their sense of entitlement to women’s bodies and thus because the actions of a few we get lumped in with em).

Plus being sexually active or “slutty” (in a non derogatory way) is empowering for women, like it’s good to stand up to slut shaming and wear your sexually loud and proud but the ironic thing is it’s usually these sex positive women who have the biggest disgust and distain for male virgins. Because to bring someone up you have to put someone down and why not keep kicking people who are already down and insecure. Because for men in this patriarchal society we have no excuse to remain virgins past the age of 18. Which really does suck navigating this shallow and vapid world that just sees one part of you as the sum totality of your character; its a sign that you’re a moral failed, sexually repugnant (experience is sexy after all) and if no one ever wanted to sleep with you what must that say about your character?

How have I white knuckled my way through this? Side with the virgin shamers because I don’t wanna be affiliated with incels because one aspect of me. It’s really the best way to reassure how safe you are to women that you’re not a slut shame by shaming virgins and bad mouthing other virgins, in my experience they never batted an eye or treated “virgin shaming” like a red flag. And yeah before the whole “women virgin” the only ones I’ve met a voluntary because they believe their virginity is only deserving for a quality man or they’re part of religious community like Muslims or Mormons.

Not surprisingly keeping up this facade that I’m not a virgin and that I’m “normal” really has taken a toll on me because I can only keep it up but at the same time I don’t wanna spill the beans let my dark shameful secret out or all the women in life will drop me like an unwanted puppy. So what do I do? Do hold in? How do I change my views of virgin and virginity? How do I navigate in a world with nothing hatred and contempt for you something you can’t control?

Sincerely,

An Unwanted Puppy

DEAR AN UNWANTED PUPPY: I’m gonna do you a big favor here, AUP: don’t worry about any of this because it’s all fake.

I mean, your identity is fake – this isn’t the first letter you’ve sent in my dude, nor the first identity you’ve claimed – and the talking points came from the same places that think that “God Emperor” references are clever or go over the head of the normies. So I mean, have fun with all of that.

But also, leaving aside the fact that this is made up… virginity is also imaginary. It’s an artificial social construct, one that has no basis on reality and only as much validity or meaning as someone gives it. At most, “virgin” is just a descriptor that states a person hasn’t had a particular experience yet. Everything after that is 100% pure cultural baggage. There is literally no difference between someone who has had sex and hasn’t had sex and no way to tell. Anyone who tells you otherwise is either selling you something or desperately needs a refresher course on sex-ed.

And considering the state of sexual education in this country, that’s saying something.

Now the fact that virginity is an imaginary concept is easily proven. If, for the sake of argument, we accept that you’re a 27 cis male virgin, this is an easily solved problem. Hop online, read some reviews, find a full-service escort in your area that specializes in girlfriend experiences or nervous newbies, fill out her screening forms and book an appointment. If you don’t want to risk a run-in with the law, you can hop a flight to Reno and visit one of the legal brothels in Nevada. Many will even send a limo to pick you up at the airport. Pay the fee and bada bing, bada boom, you’re no longer a virgin, congratulations.

Except this is precisely where folks will start to insist that this doesn’t “count”. Which is precisely how you know that virginity is entirely a fictional concept; if being a virgin is just “hasn’t had sex”, then seeing a sex worker is an entirely valid way to lose one’s virginity. But if it doesn’t “count” because you paid someone… well that’s just a sign that what we’re talking about whether or not someone’s had sex.

The same applies for the kinds of sex that “count”. A lot of queer people have never had “sex” – that is, they never had penetrative vaginal sex. Many haven’t had penetrative anal sex either, in fact. But they’re also having all kinds of sex – just very little that involves penises going into bits. Once again, it comes down to pretending that some acts “count” and others don’t, for entirely arbitrary reasons.

And then there are the “re-virgin” options – surgically reconstructed hymens, evangelical Christians declaring themselves to be born-again virgins… all ways of reclaiming the title of “virgin” despite having actually had PIV sex.

All of this is about as clear of a sign as you could want that “virginity” is a purely made-up construct. So congratulations, AUP: you’re only a virgin if you (or the buds you’re trying to impress with your letter) decide you are. You can safely declare yourself to be a non-virgin and none can say otherwise. I mean, how are they even gonna prove it? Track down previous partners and demand references?

But more importantly: the talking points you are tossing around in your letter not only aren’t real, they aren’t coming from women. They’re coming from other men – especially from blackpill incel forums and the sadder ends of the chan boards – who are making things up out of whole cloth and putting words in women’s mouths. Imaginary women at that. This is just the same sort of echo-chamber reamplification of just-so stories guys are telling each other to make it sound like they’re hopeless and helpless and the lowest of the low, with little bits and bobs gleaned from discourse around the net thrown in to make it seem more authentic.

I mean, s--t, it doesn’t even make sense. If you honestly think that being the world sees being a male virgin is somehow worse than, say, the dude who shot a shop owner in California over an LGBTQ flag, then I would question how often you actually go outside or talk to people who aren’t on 4chan.

Similarly, siding with the “virgin-shamers” likewise just makes you part of your own oppression. You have an opportunity to prove them wrong by showing just how awesome you are while also having not had sex yet. But instead, you have chosen to harm others in hopes that you yourself won’t get harmed.

Or at least you would have, if this letter were real and I hadn’t decided to break kayfabe and point out that I knew about these and the previous ones you’ve written.

As it is, trying to be clever is a fine thing but sometimes a dude needs to log off, step away from the keyboard and go meet some girls.

But – as I would say to an actual person writing in – if you were to want to actually deal with the stigma surrounding being a virgin for longer than you’d prefer, the best thing you could do is to go outside and touch grass. Dealing with actual people, instead of the bucket-of-crabs that want to invent increasingly baroque social opprobrium to justify their self-loathing and keep others from ever climbing out of the pit of despair, is the first step towards recognizing the toxic bubble you’ve found yourself in. And once you recognize how the world doesn’t work on Reddit/4chan/incel logic, it’s kind of astounding how quickly things start to improve.

Go out and touch grass, dude. You need it.

Please send your questions to Dr. NerdLove at his website (www.doctornerdlove.com/contact); or to his email, doc@doctornerdlove.com