I’m a 38-Year-Old Virgin. Everyone Freaks Out When I Tell Them the Reason Why.

How to Do It Why is this such a big deal for everyone? Photo illustration by Slate. Photo by shurkin_son/Getty Images Plus. Sign up for the Slatest to get the most insightful analysis, criticism, and advice out there, delivered to your inbox daily. How to Do It is Slate’s sex advice column. Have a question? Send it to Stoya and Rich here. It’s anonymous! Dear How to Do It, I am a 38-year-old virgin. This has never bothered me, as I’ve never been interested in men or women sexually. In fact, I don’t know what sexual attraction even feels like—I’ve never felt it and I don’t understand it. At most, I find some men visually attractive, but it stops at just looking. I’ve never wanted a partner or children. My friends understand and don’t care, but meeting new people is always hard. They act like I’m a freak of nature or something is seriously wrong with me or that I have been SA’d as a child and traumatized away from sex. They think I’m abnormal and insane, especially since I’m a woman who doesn’t want kids. The most “accepting” reaction I have gotten is that they assume I must be a closeted lesbian. When I tell them I am not, they don’t believe me because apparently not being interested is such an abnormal trait that I must just be in denial of my sexuality. Why is being ace not accepted to the point where people think I’m completely deluded and in denial? Why can’t I just be accepted with “oh, OK” and move on? Why is being ace so abnormal and horrifying of a concept that people freak out so much? How can I navigate these reactions? —Confused Dear Confused, I suspect asexuality is a hard thing for people to get their heads around and accept because it runs counter to the narrative our culture tells us about how things “should” be when it comes to love and sex. We “should” want a partner who we love having sex with, and that sex should produce offspring that we also love. While certainly not all people accept gay relationships, there are enough examples of these types of relationships that follow an outwardly normative romantic arc that many straight people find easy enough to relate to and thus accept. Things like polyamory, transness, and asexuality disrupt this narrative in a way that people seem to find personally offensive. For example, some supposed anti-trans “intellectuals” seem to view non-normative gender identity as an affront, hence the frequent right-wing talking point that demands anyone who voices support for trans people to define what a woman is—as if anything but a simple answer to that question is immediately invalidating. Those who perpetuate this want to make others bend to their rigid way of thinking and can’t seem to understand that not everyone shares their simplistic way of evaluating gender. Human evolution necessarily exists outside of such simplicity. And intellectually, socially, and technologically, identities outside of allo cishet existence constitute human evolution. Further acceptance would be a sign of cultural evolution. People push back on your self-description because they are ignorant. One way to cope with this is to see them for what they are and know that you know better. Anyone who attempts to override your own self-definition, especially after just meeting you, is taking on a fool’s errand. They likely haven’t read any of the books that spell this out clearly or done much thinking about asexuality at all. They think they’re the experts while having no idea what they’re talking about. This is often how these things go. Those who counter you assume that because you don’t have the same romantic or sexual aspirations as they do, your life is deficient. This is egocentric thinking. Your orientation enlightens you, but you are forced to contend with the allo cishet mindset and its ideals. The same is not true for the dominating class who can sit back without interrogating themselves because they don’t share the stressors that come from deviating from the dominant narrative. So I think the first bit of advice is to remain confident. I am struck by your continued willingness to declare your asexuality despite knowing how people will react and that these reactions could very well upset you. I think that’s amazing. Don’t let people shame you into silence. Understand that you’re likely dealing with someone who has never had to think too hard about asexuality or, depending on your social circles, what it means to be any kind of sexual minority. You are not under any mandate to educate anyone, but you can certainly take up that cause and let people know that asexuality is legitimate and has led to a robust culture (thanks in no small part to the way the internet has allowed aces to interact and mobilize, which was crucial given how ignored they have been by the scientific community, including Alfred Kinsey). Let people know that they don’t know what they’re talking about when they push back, as graciously or as brusquely as you’re comfortable with. You can suggest reading to anyone who seems curious enough to crack open a book on the subject—Cody Daigle-Orians’ I Am Ace: Advice on Living Your Best Asexual Life and Angela Chen’s Ace: What Asexuality Reveals About Desire, Society, and the Meaning of Sex are accessible beginner resources. These books may also help you too—Daigle-Orians’, in fact, contains a large chapter about the kind of microaggressions that you have experienced. He advises on the importance of being able to identify these things, as “knowing a microaggression when we see one helps us steer clear of internalizing its negative messages.” If you suspect someone is implying that you are deluded or in denial, tell them that. Show them how their words could affect someone whose way of life is different from theirs, but no less valid. Please keep questions short (<150 words), and don’t submit the same question to multiple columns. We are unable to edit or remove questions after publication. Use pseudonyms to maintain anonymity. Your submission may be used in other Slate advice columns and may be edited for publication. Dear How to Do It, For a while now, I’ve had what seems to be a fecal stain on the skin superior to my anus, like between the folds of my buttcheeks. I maintain good hygiene, but figured I wasn’t washing well enough. After several months of washing more than usual and adding baby wipes to my wiping game, though, it stubbornly remains. I think it might be caused by trapped sweat (I do sweat a fair amount, especially in that spot), but I’m not sure how to fix that issue. I usually wear cotton underwear, often change it multiple times a day due to sensory reasons, shower regularly, and I promise I wash my ass thoroughly! But this thing will not go away even a little bit! I’ve been avoiding receiving in doggy because I’m embarrassed by it, which sucks because I love doggy. What can I do? —Butt Wait Dear Butt Wait, Are you sure that’s a fecal stain? Just think about the logistics for a second: Poop would have to stay in the area for such a long time to leave a lasting mark. It would likely mean that you always smell like poop. Do you? Are you a poop person? That seems like a way more pressing issue to write into an advice column regarding, as it would affect anyone near to you, from intimate partners to complete strangers in public spaces. There are skin conditions like a pressure ulcer associated with fecal matter (in the case of incontinence), but something like that is different than a stain. If you’re referring to a discoloration of the skin around the anus, there are a variety of ways that may show up between your cheeks, like friction. This is extremely common. To be sure about what exactly is causing the discoloration that you’re clocking, you should see a dermatologist. They can formally diagnose you and potentially prescribe something that will potentially lighten the area. There are over-the-counter lightening products that you could try, but—and I say this out of compassion—I’m not convinced that you are an expert on the hue of your butthole, and you’re better off treating this under the advice of a doctor. You may find it embarrassing to spread your cheeks in front of a professional, but they’re there to help. And enduring that embarrassment may set you on a path to avoiding future embarrassment with partners. Don’t you want to be railed from behind again, like in the good old days, before you thought your poop was staining your butthole? I know I would. Send Us Your Questions About the Workplace! The columnists behind our advice column, Good Job, want to help you navigate your social dynamics at work. Does your colleague constantly bug you after hours? Has an ill-advised work romance gone awry? Ask us your question here! Dear How to Do It, A few months back, I noticed my wife was watching lots of porn involving women having sex with men with very large penises. I’m of average size and began to get the sense I wasn’t enough for her. When I searched through her underwear drawer while she was at work, my suspicions were confirmed. I discovered a pretty large dildo. Should I confront her about my concerns? —Coming Up Short Dear Coming Up Short, This isn’t necessarily a “but” scenario; it could be an “and” one. Maybe her thinking isn’t so much, “My husband has an average dick, but my dildo is pretty large (and thus more satisfying),” it’s, “My husband has an average dick, and my dildo is pretty large.” That is, she could just be filling a desire for variety. Her dildo need not be interpreted as a silicone referendum on your size; maybe she enjoys both. Or maybe the porn made her curious to try out a larger size and this was the ethical way to do that. You don’t even know if she enjoys this particular dildo, just that she has it. Ideally, the conversation would have taken place before you set to snooping. Now you have an added burden here of admitting that you rifled through her underwear drawer, which could derail an already potentially delicate conversation. You risk this conversation being focused on your transgression. I would consider leaving the dildo out of the conversation or, at minimum, don’t lead with it. If you noticed she’s watching porn with men with very large penises (which to be fair could be abbreviated as she’s watching porn since the very large penises tend to be a given), you can ask her about that. What appeals to her about it? Is she curious about actually having sex with someone with a large penis, or is this pure fantasy to her? If you want to get really raw, ask her how she feels about your size. As always, though, do not ask questions that you don’t want answered. Given the allure of the large penis in our culture and that most guys, by definition, are hovering around the average mark, if your wife has a hankering for big dick but is living with a medium one, her experience is not at all uncommon. Sounds like she’s managing. If you want to be really enlightened about things, you could lean in and offer to aid in her fantasies, whether that’s joining her as she plays with her toy or trying a threeway and/or cuck scenario. It could be a lot of fun, but just be sure you’re ready for it if you go that direction. —Rich More Advice From Slate ’m 25 now. I’ve been told I’m charming, handsome, in shape, and successful. I’m also perpetually single. All my past relationships have started out excellent, only to fall apart six months to a year in. I’ve asked what the problem is every time, and I always got the BS “It’s not you, it’s me. We’re just not compatible” kind of answers. Until an ex who I had a falling out with finally told me what the real problem was: my penis. Apparently, according to her and some of my other exes, it’s just the wrong shape for sex. What am I supposed to do? Advice Sex