Let me first preface this by saying that I never knew where I fell on the romantic and sexual spectrum. In fact, I still don’t know.

As a kid, I could never understand the hype around having “crushes”, or even the concept of “liking someone”. I never met anyone who sparked such a feeling – someone who could make my heart race when I’m near them and occupy my thoughts when I’m not.

When I was in my early teens, my lack of both sexual and romantic feelings were still ever-present. Seeing my friends experience love one by one (even if it was only puppy love) caused me to question my own emotions and definition about what “love” really was. Is being in love really as dramatic as it seemed to be in movies? I also began questioning what it felt like to be in love. How exactly was I to know if I began to like someone?

It was a combination of this and my parents’ casual remarks about the hypothetical future in which I have children that made me think that I was abnormal. Some people said that I was simply a “late bloomer”. But I was scared – scared that I would end up alone, scared that I wouldn’t meet my family’s expectations for my future, but most of all, scared about what it meant to be devoid of romantic intentions.

When I was around 14, I discovered the concept of masturbation and erotic materials. But I could never picture anyone that I could feel comfortable performing sexual acts with. Kisses didn’t seem very fun, and I definitely did not want to have sex with anyone that I was close with. Even innocent acts like cuddling or holding hands were just another action with no real meaning behind it.

At that age, I started to entertain the thought of being asexual and aromantic. More specifically, I tried to come up with reasons to prove that I was not. This was not due to hatred nor fear towards the LGBTQ+ community, but more to do with how my family would react if I were to tell them. Would they be supportive? Would they be disappointed? Even worse, would they dismiss my concerns on the sheer fact that I was a child?

High school kind of felt like an emotional roller coaster that I wasn’t ready to board yet. I felt left behind, like everyone had already started sprinting but I hadn’t even learned how to crawl yet.

It wasn’t until my first term of university that I felt a spark of what one might consider “love”. At this point, I had basically come to terms with being both aro and ace – at least, internally. That is precisely why I was in denial of my first crush. I wondered if these feelings were genuine, or if I simply liked the thought of liking someone. Another concern I had was my ability to differentiate between admiration and love, as both are closely related.

I’d like to think that I’ve become pretty accepting of who I am since then. I don’t really care to assign myself a label, and I don’t think any of the existing ones match me 100%. But I’m alright with who I am today.