If you’d asked teenage me what my 30s would look like, I would’ve said something straight out of a rom-com: married, probably a couple kids, a cute house, stability, and a partner who kissed me passionately every morning before work.
What I got instead was a confusing journey into understanding myself… a journey that didn’t end with a partner, and white picket fence with 2.5 kids, but with clarity.
And honestly? I wouldn’t trade it.
Where It All Started — The “Why Don’t I Feel What Everyone Else Does?” Phase
I wasn’t boy crazy in school.
Not even close.
While my friends were whispering about crushes, giggling about who was “hot,” or obsessing over their newfound hormones, I felt… nothing. Zero. Flatline. Not even a spark of curiosity.
I figured maybe it was because I grew up around boys – I have 7 brothers, and the behind-the-scenes view wasn’t exactly glamorous. But high school came and went, and still nothing changed.
Even when I had my first boyfriend, the pattern stayed the same.
I liked him.
I genuinely liked him.
I was romantically attracted to him, thought he was handsome, cared for him deeply… but sexually? There was nothing there.
He’d flirt, talk about sexual things, try to initiate and I’d feel… nothing. Not disgust. Not fear. Just a blank space where attraction should’ve been.
That blank space followed me into adulthood.
Trying to Make Myself “Normal”
By my early 20s, I knew the word asexual but I didn’t know it applied to me. It couldn’t apply to me, right?
So, I tried to explain my lack of attraction in every other possible way:
- “Maybe I have low libido.”
- “Maybe I’m insecure about my body.”
- “Maybe I’m stressed.”
- “Maybe I’m just a late bloomer.”
- “Maybe I’m actually gay?”
(Spoiler: nope, I felt nothing sexual toward women either.)
I tried relationships. Tried sexual things. Tried to “fix” myself.
But how do you fix something that was never broken?
I can enjoy the act if I’m with someone I love, but I never crave it. I never look at someone and feel that pull. I’m a hopeless romantic with zero interest in the part everyone says is non-negotiable.
Society makes sex sound like the center of existence. Relationships revolve around it. Movies dramatize it. Social media jokes about it every hour. And when you don’t relate to any of that, you feel… outside. Other. Foreign.
And I already felt out of place in so many ways, I didn’t want to add one more thing that people around me wouldn’t understand.
My family barely understands why I’m in my 30s with no spouse or kids. Trying to explain, “Hey, I don’t experience sexual attraction at all,” would probably short-circuit their entire system.
So, I just kept trying to be “normal.”
The Moment Acceptance Finally Sank In
There was no dramatic revelation. No therapy breakthrough. No life-changing conversation.
It was just time. Years of patterns, years of trying, years of ignoring what was obvious.
One day, I just realized I had been explaining my truth away because I didn’t want to be different.
I’m 34 now, and I’m done pretending.
I’m asexual.
I always have been.
And that doesn’t make me broken. It just makes my version of love look different.
The Hardest Part — Dating While being Ace
I used to scroll past memes that say “I turn asexual when I need to focus” and feel this quiet rage. Because for me it’s not a switch I flip. It’s the only channel I’ve ever had. And hearing it treated like a temporary discipline hack makes the real thing feel even lonelier.
Here’s the honest, unfiltered truth:
Finding someone who is okay with being deeply romantically desired …without needing sex at the center is hard.
To be completely honest I’ve found that it’s a rare thing. It might never happen for me.
I used to mourn that.
But now? The thought doesn’t crush me.
Because I know what I bring to a relationship and it’s not small.
I love with my whole heart.
I show up for people.
I care deeply.
I am loyal, affectionate, romantic, supportive, and warm.
If the right person exists, they will see that.
And if they don’t ever show up in my life?
That’s fine.
I’m not living life “half-full” because of it.
The Unexpected Peace of Being Single at 34
Being single at 34 used to feel like a failure especially when everyone around me was checking off life milestones like some kind of adulting bingo.
But now?
I’m weirdly okay with it.
Maybe I’ll meet someone who fits me.
Maybe I won’t.
Either way, I’m not panicking.
Because I’m finally living as my actual self, not the version of me I thought I was supposed to be.
My Dreams Didn’t Die. They Just Shifted
I still want children.
That dream never left.
And when the time comes, when I’m financially stable, secure in myself, and ready? I’ll make that happen with or without a partner.
The love I have is big enough to raise a child on its own if that’s the path I’m given.
This Life Isn’t What I Expected… But It’s Mine
Being asexual, single, and 34 wasn’t the script I imagined.
But it’s the script I’m choosing to finally own.
Not with shame.
Not with fear.
Not with apologizing.
But with understanding.
With acceptance.
With pride.
And with a softness I didn’t have for myself before.
If you’re reading this because you’re also trying to make peace with the life you didn’t expect, I hope you know this:
You are not behind.
You are not broken.
You are not alone.
You are not “less.”
You are simply living a version of life that no one taught you how to name but that doesn’t make it any less valid, beautiful, or real.
And there is absolutely nothing wrong with you.
A few books that have meant a lot to me on this journey
As an ace woman navigating a world that’s so hyper focused on sex, these helped me feel seen, validated, and less alone
- Ace: What Asexuality Reveals About Desire, Society, and the Meaning of Sex by Angela Chen Bookshop.org | Amazon Mix of reporting, stories, and insight that helped broaden how I think about attraction… or the lack of it.
- The Invisible Orientation: An Introduction to Asexuality by Julie Sondra Decker Bookshop.org | Amazon This was one of the first books that explained asexuality so clearly for me. A solid 101 on Asexuality
- Refusing Compulsory Sexuality: A Black Asexual Lens on Our Sex-Obsessed Culture by Sherronda J. Brown Bookshop.org | Amazon Discusses the intersections of race, anti-Blackness, and asexuality. It felt like it was speaking directly to my experiences. Huge recommendation if you’re a Black and ace like me (or want to understand that perspective better).
No pressure to read them! Just sharing in case they could be helpful to anyone else figuring things out.
Disclosure: These are affiliate links, meaning I may earn a small commission at no extra cost to you if you purchase through them.
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