“Like most things,” Quinn continues. “Asexuality is a spectrum, often called the gray-ace spectrum. Some experience sexual attraction occasionally, while others are completely averse to it. For example, demisexuals are a subgroup within the gray-ace spectrum. They don’t experience sexual attraction until they really get to know another person on an emotional level.”
I frown. “Wait, is that—is that not the norm?”
Quinn grins. “When it comes to sexuality and attraction, I’d argue that ‘the norm’ doesn’t actually exist.”
“I mean, sure, but like—” I sigh, struggling to verbalize my thoughts in a concise, non-asshole way. “But isn’t that what attraction is? Like—I don’t know. I’m not trying to be antagonistic, I swear?—”
“I know, you’re fine,” Quinn interjects, an earnest smile still on her face. “Please continue.”
“Can you define demisexual again?”
Quinn pauses. “Let me make sure I don’t misrepresent it,” she says as she retrieves her phone from her pocket. A few taps later, her confident smile returns. “Okay, according to Wikipedia, ‘demisexuality is used to describe individuals who feel sexually attracted to someone only after developing a close or strong emotional bond with them.’”
I blink, trying to process her words. “Okay, can you tell me what the Wikipedia definition of heterosexuality is?”
She laughs. “Really?”
“Please? I need to see something.”
Thankfully, she goes along with it. “Here we go: ‘As a sexual orientation, heterosexuality is an enduring pattern of emotional, romantic, and/or sexual attractions to people of the opposite sex.’” She frowns. “I’m not sure that’s a good definition because romantic and sexual attraction are separate, but either way–” She glances back at me. “Does that answer your question?”
I shake my head. “So, being straight is simply being attracted to every person of the opposite sex? It doesn’t matter if you have a close emotional bond with them or not?”
Quinn presses her lips together thoughtfully. “I think you’d have to ask a straight person. Or at least someone who is not ace.”
“I guess I just don’t see what makes demisexuality different from being straight or gay. For example, my buddy always thought he was straight, but one day he met this guy and started hanging out with him. It wasn’t until they were friends and spending time together that he realized he was attracted to him. Or… at least, that’s how I think it went down.”
“As I said, everyone’s experience is different,” Quinn explains. “Does your friend identify as demisexual?”
“No, he’s bi. I’m pretty sure he’s never heard of being demisexual because neither have I.”
Quinn opens her mouth to respond, but hesitates. “Here, I think I have some material that might explain this better. Plus, I know a few members of our group who identify as demi, and they can give you a far better perspective on what it means to them than I ever could.” She opens her cross-body bag, pulls out a black binder, and thumbs through the tabbed pages until she finds what she’s looking for. She carefully slides out a tri-fold pamphlet and a couple of additional sheets, handing them all to me.
I give the pages a quick scan—they’re full of informative graphics, definitions, and bullet points that I’m sure will be helpful, but something in me isn’t satisfied. Even so, I manage a smile. “Thank you.”
“Of course! Also, let me give you my number,” she adds, retrieving a blank index card from an outer pocket of the binder, scribbling her digits on the back, and passing it to me. “If you have more questions about being ace, or would just like a friend to talk to, shoot me a text!”
I add the index card to my stack of paper, folding everything to match the card’s size so they’ll fit in my pocket. “Thanks, Quinn.”
“You’re very welcome, Oliver!” Her eyes land on my wrists again, and before I can stop her, she removes her bracelet and offers it to me.
“Oh, no, you don’t have to–”
“Please, I have so many more,” Quinn insists, gently taking my hand and sliding the bracelet onto my wrist. “Even if this isn’t your identity, it matches your outfit.”
I glance down at my ensemble and, sure enough, she’s right. I’m wearing my dark purple Saint Motel band t-shirt, black gym shorts, white socks, and gray sneakers. “Oh, damn,” I mutter. “Would you believe me if I said this wasn’t intentional?”
Quinn studies me with a knowing expression. “You know, I think I do.”
Friday, August 29, 2025
Nikki has to be at work by noon, so after we enjoy some coffee together, Nikki sends me on my way with my groceries. Before I start my journey, I sit in the driver’s seat and read through my notifications. Right away, I notice three texts and a photo from Oliver.
Oliver
hey Jude
missed ya last night at the EQA meet
