“Oh, yes, I like your thinking,” she says, and she starts to push the bags under the chair in front.
“Thanks a million,” I say, and then I take full advantage of her being occupied and get out my book and start to read, hoping this will signal to her that I don’t want to talk.
“Ooh, what are you reading?” Lauren asks, her voice closer, and I’m not surprised when I look up and see her leaning more my way. Begrudgingly, I hold the book up for her to see the title,Star Power: A Modern Guide to Astrology.
“Astrology, like star signs and shit?”
“It’s just a book I’m reading,” I say, and I drop my eyes to the pages again.
“Let me guess what you are,” she says, not getting the hint in the slightest.
I sigh but still look up with another energy-demanding smile.
Fuck me, this is going to be the longest flight in the history of all flights ever.
*****
Lauren kept talking to me until they served our meals and then some ancient episodes ofFriendskept her otherwise occupied for long enough that I could pop my pill, drink my glass of red wine and demolish my own food quick enough to be all wrapped up in my blanket, ear plugs in, immediately after our trays were taken away.
But again, Lauren appears a little lacking in understanding visual clues as she starts talking to me again about ten minutes later. Stupidly, I open my eyes and take an earplug out, but it’s hardly surprising when I hear what she asks me.
“Hey, didn’t you come out as,” her voice drops to a whisper, “queer, recently?”
I swallow and pull out my other ear plug. “Yes, I did.”
“Does that mean you have a girlfriend now?”
I close my eyes but still I smile. These are the kind of conversations I find both hardest and easiest. They’re hard because this type of follower is the kind of person who was likely taken aback by my recent change of direction with the content I make and share online. They’re the kind of follower who originally clicked Follow because they wanted beauty tips and fashion advice, and now they get confronted by my honestLives and longer-form videos and captions of me talking about the challenges of being asexual, and that has to be jarring, right? But that’s also what makes it easier, because there’s also this possibility that maybe that disinterest doesn’t make them not care, rather it makes them see it for the big deal it isn’t. Because what does it really matter that I’m asexual? As long as I still continue to review face washes and share which style of coats I’m buying for the coming winter season, they’re perfectly happy.
“Not exactly. I came out as asexual,” I say. “Do you know what that means?”
“Oh, yeah, I remember you saying that now. It means you hate sex, right?”
I hold back my cringe. “No, it means I don’t experience sexual attraction to people.”
“You don’t fancy people?” Lauren’s thick eyebrows rise.
“Yes, that.”
“Like, nobody?”
I swallow again, this time a lump in my throat making it a little more difficult. “So far, nobody, no.”
“Well, that’s shit,” she says, and her accent only adds to the bluntness of her statement.
“Actually,” I say, and my next words jump off my tongue before I’m even aware of them, “it’s quite nice. How much time do you spend thinking about your crushes?”
“Oh, way too much time.”
“Exactly. And how much energy do you put into impressing them, trying to make them notice you, or trying to please them?”
“Oh, I’ve practically broken my back trying to get some blokes to notice me.”
“Well, I don’t worry about that. I used to, not because I wanted them to like me but because I thought that was what I was supposed to do, because I thought if someone showedme attention, I’d feel something. And because it felt validating. Somehow, somewhere along the way growing up, I learnt that someone’s sexual interest in me was a validating experience.”
“But you… you always look so good. Why make such an effort if you’re not trying to get someone’s attention or impress them? Why bother if you don’t fancy anybody?”
Her words fall out of her mouth innocently enough and yet they sound so very ugly. I shift in my chair so more of my body is turned to hers.
