Asexual

©2003 Elizabeth L. Clark

With a sigh she clicked the button that would place her ad in the 'romance' section of the lesbian site. Not that she expected to have anyone read it much less respond to it.

She pushed back the silver curls that tangled around her face and took a deep breath. So many changes... and so many people not reacting well at all to them.

She was forty... fat and just getting the clue-by-four to the head that it was high time she was honest with herself. She was attracted to women, always had been, just hid it. She endured abuse and terror at the hands of men for years, always suffering at their touch. Even the nice ones made her ill when it came time to play the game and bed them.

Now she was 'out' and it was not going well at all. Even women disregarded her because she was older and not thin. Add to that she bore the stigma of having spent her life with men... not by choice, but that didn't matter. To many she was not a 'real' lesbian because she had been with men. They shunned her, insulted her.

That hurt... almost as much as her best friend telling her she was 'asexual' because she had not been with a woman as of yet. That hurt her deeply. To be told she was without sexual anything, identity, action... it made her feel as if she were a nothing.

She removed her glasses to wipe the tears from her eyes. Maybe she should start lying again... allow her body to be used by men just so she would fit in. Endure the nightmares, the panic attacks.

She went into the one chat room she liked and acted silly, flirted, cheered women up, offered a shoulder. She left when the couples started getting sweet with each other. It hurt too much to watch. Not that she wanted a cyber romance, she wanted a real set of arms around her, not words on a screen.

"Face it. You might never find out what it is like... no one is rushing to your door are they? So, get used to either being a non-entity or go back to being a hole for a man to use. It's the only choices you have!" She had to laugh at herself... wondering what would happen if she ever won an argument with herself.

She answered mail, soothed those that came to her for comfort and then set out to do what housework her aching body allowed her to do. Today though her heart ached the most.

She passed a mirror and made the mistake of looking into it. She saw not herself... but a faceless, sexless thing, devoid of anything redeeming. That made her tremble inside and she rushed past the glass, unable to take the sight anymore.

Her green eyes were dulled by her pain and she nearly shuffled as she walked back into her bedroom to hide for a while. Only around people did she put on the mask of happiness... that way they didn't have any more fuel to use against her.

She ended up back in chat, more flirting with women she would never meet. Women who would not want her even if they did meet in person. In her head she let the word 'asexual' sink in and become one more scar.

No one saw that though, all they saw was the mask she put on to protect herself. Only now the mask had no true face... it was empty.