Intimacy and Love: AroAce Edition
Aromanticism, as a whole, is an unknown and foreign concept to many people. Most have never heard of the word before. That included me, up until recently when I had finally been able to put a name to the feeling, or lack thereof.
Looking back on my childhood, it was clear to see but I hadn’t started connecting the dots until recently. My first ever “serious” relationship involved fifth grade me and a pretty popular boy in my grade. He was my first “real” boyfriend and he was enamored and showed his affection through gift giving. He would buy me necklaces, earrings, and stuffed animals. And me? I just liked being near him. He was a cool guy and I never minded our brief hugs or conversations. We became a couple after our mutual friends said that we “looked good” together.
There was this expectation that we became a couple. The idea that we could simply enjoy each other’s company, to our friends and the rest of the school, was unfathomable. Back then, I (naively) thought the opposite and went along with it. Spoiler alert, things didn’t last.
When things began to get serious with us, I had two reactions:
I was scared shitless.
I ended it.
Not immediately, no, but I knew something wasn’t right. There was an implication of something more developing between the two of us. I knew how my friends would take it. I knew that they would see this as a next step in our relationship because to them, that’s what this was. I only saw it as a wake up call. There was nothing wrong with him, it was normal to want these things and to move forward as a couple but I couldn’t.
There lay my dilemma. I had spent months with someone I cared about and he was an amazing guy. The kind of guy that listened to you rant and rave and bought ice cream for you and your friends during lunch. I just couldn’t be in a romantic relationship with him. When I eventually bit the bullet and ended it, I was crushed. Not because I regretted it and was sad we were over. Quite the opposite actually, I felt like a weight was lifted off of my shoulders. I was sad that I made him sad.
Fast forward years and years, I have been in multiple relationships that just haven’t worked out. At the time, I still wasn’t aware of aromanticism. I had begun to understand my asexuality but that was uncharted territory for me. The problem was being unable to explain to people I met how I truly felt and what that meant. When I came out as lesbian, prior to me settling into identifying as queer, I could point you to a movie or a book and say, This is how I feel. Applying that same logic to aromanticism wasn’t possible at the time.
Now it is. There’s still very little to no representation of aromantic people in mainstream media but I’ve begun to explore and understand that part of myself and my identity.
It’s wanting companionship, but not the romantic kind. It’s loving the people close to me with the huge heart that I have. It’s having an intimate and close relationship with someone who I trust and have fun with. It’s fulfilling and comfortable and warm, despite my feelings of anxiety and worry. I am full of love that is real and strong and lasting. That’s more than enough.