Only three days after returning home from a two-week around-the-world vacation to Australia, Thailand, and the UK I developed a fever. Two days later I felt the worst had passed, but I got checked and, sure enough, tested positive for Covid-19.

I had managed to avoid this virus for more than two and a half years due largely to the simple fact that I don't have a social life.

But I'm okay with losing the battle under the circumstances. Because it was on this trip that I finally had my first sexual experience.

There's no comfortable way for me to break the news about this. Being raised Mormon means sex is a special topic for private conversation, never outside of marriage, and obviously never between two men. For me to jump from "virgin at thirty-two" to having a one-night stand with a twenty-something guy within hours of first connecting on Grindr in a foreign country is… not the kind of thing they prepare you for in church.

I'm not going to tell you the story of that night, because it's between us. Be content to know that he was tall, cute, and kind, and absolutely did not pressure me into anything or take advantage of my naivete.

But I do want to talk about how I feel since.

Back when I was first coming to conscious terms with my sexuality, I participated in North Star because I wanted to remain faithful to the church. Through that group I met lovely friends and was able to get my first tastes of intimacy with people who felt the same as me. Holding hands and hugging weren't difficult tasks, and I was able to work through some emotional barriers and accept that I wanted to be close to people. Anything more than that was still taboo, and though I did come close twice, I remained "unspoiled" throughout my time in Utah.

After moving here to Seattle and deconstructing my faith, I still faced the terrifying barrier of social anxiety.

Meeting new people is very hard for me if there isn't some existing structure I can utilize to guide the conversation, like work or school. When it's just the two of us and nothing to do but get to know each other, I start to worry about expectations. I'm aware this is irrational. In the moment, things always go much better than I feared. But that's why it's anxiety.

So it's fairly impressive that I accepted the Grindr meetup at all, though it did take me well over fifteen minutes of internal struggle.

The physical closeness was perfect. 10/10 would recommend.

What surprised me in the moment was my lack of "sparks" with the more intimate parts. I had expectations, fantasies even, about how it would feel to kiss a cute boy. I've watched hundreds of hours of BL romance. So to get the emotional equivalent of radio silence when it actually happens to me... you understand why I want to blog about it, right?

I came up with three possible explanations soon after, though a fourth is slowly coalescing which I hope wins out.

Asexual

Back before I even moved to Seattle, I joined r/asexuality on Reddit and made this blog post where I question whether I even want sex in the first place.

It didn't take long for me to backstep. But now that I have a real life experience to go off, the question is back. It would explain why, at least with this person whom I had just met, my feelings didn't extend beyond romance and physical attraction.

Just like with everything else involved in sexuality and gender, asexuality also comes as a spectrum (or even more than one). So wanting to have sex, enjoying porn and masturbation, but failing to feel something toward someone you don't have a deep connection with... this matches what I've read about "gray"sexual or "demi"sexual. So everything that I've felt and done could still qualify me as ace if I wanted to claim it.

And I would feel very welcome adopting that label. It's the kindest sub-community I've ever come across.

But there are other options that I want to consider first.

Religious Trauma

This is my least favorite, and also hopefully the least likely.

The impact of religious indoctrination can run deeper than we think. I'm looking for a therapist that might be able to help me determine whether I am unable to fully commit and emotionally surrender to a truly homosexual experience due to ingrained religious training.

Social Phobia/Anxiety/Avoidance

This one is the scariest, because I'm not sure what could be done about it.

I can imagine how my difficulty connecting with people might place an emotional barrier between me and everyone else, even in such an intimate setting as sex. It would be a form of subconscious self-defense. Keep myself from feeling the full measure of emotions, because that way madness lies.

I've told people before that one thing I hope would come from having a romantic relationship is finally being able to overcome my issues of self-esteem and social phobia. And I thought it would work because the emotional connection formed between me and that person would be able to power through all the barriers. If I can't form that emotional connection in the first place, though, things feel more bleak.

Shock

This fourth idea has been slowly forming since I came back, based on my reactions to watching BL now that I have memories to compare with what's happening on screen.

At first, the idea of kissing someone again felt like nothing, or like I was trying to force feeling where none could come. My real-life kisses hadn't felt magical, right? So why should I seek out any more opportunities?

And yet, as time has passed, I've noticed that I'm thinking back on that first night, that first guy, and I'm wanting more.

While on my church mission in Hawaii I got in a car accident, and yet I had no emotion at the time and my memories even now are purely transactional. The shock of the moment erased all feeling.

So now I think, maybe I just need to ease my way in to this new world. Maybe I was in shock to finally be in the position I've imagined for so long. I'm so used to being alone, sometimes it doesn't feel real when I'm around other people.

But there's hope, because as the shock fades, reality is able to settle in.

What’s Next

Much like how moving to London in 2015 served to "unlock the world" for me in terms of travel and tourism, this experience has served to unlock a part of me.

I feel more confident, because I've taken a risky leap and it led to good things. No longer can I use the excuse "I've never done this before" to avoid doing anything.

But at the same time, my loneliness is now compounded.

Now, when I see the couple on TV kiss, I want that for myself. And it's a much more tangible want because there is real memory behind it. When they hug I can remember his touch.

For the first time, I understand in a very small way what it feels like to miss someone, not because they're family or friend, but because they've become a part of you and will remain forever.

And no, this has nothing to do with biology.

In my latest phone call with my mom, I spent some time talking about why it’s valuable and important for people to leave home and see how other people live and think. Here’s what I came up with.

It started with the story of a missionary who was quickly overwhelmed and wanted to return home. I sympathized with the “culture shock” concept of suddenly going from where you grew up (be it in a small town or the big city) to the complete opposite. I said that it’s important for everyone to have that general experience — though in this case the missionary should absolutely go home and take care of himself. Your own mental health trumps whatever obligation you think you owe God.

You see, humans, as a social species, depend heavily on the actions and opinion of those around us. It’s also much of how we internalize morality and values. Do something “right” and people reward you; do something “wrong” and you are punished. The opinions of those closest to you are the most important, but you’re still aware of those further away, weighing each different reaction based on the owner’s value in your eyes combined with your own intrinsic senses.

And what happens when your circle of awareness is small? If the only other people you have in the world are your parent(s), they hold 100% of your external influence. You have no other options to compare against, and so whatever power social instinct places in others is totally concentrated in them, and they become unwitting and hopefully benevolent dictators over you, whether they want to or not.

Add even one outside person and their power is diluted somewhat. Now you have another mind to react to your behavior. And if they react differently than your parents, you get to decide how much importance to place in each reaction. How did you feel about your parent’s response vs this neighbor’s? Do you agree with your parents or neighbor? Why or why not? The more people you have, the more variety is present in response, and you can begin to balance yourself against a wider and more complete world.

In a small rural town, there’s definitionally fewer people, which unfortunately means fewer influences and diversity, even if every one of those people think differently. But small towns don’t usually involve every citizen holding a unique opinion on every topic. Over time, if that town does not regularly interact with the outside world, a kind of homogeneity of thought will naturally form, simply because there’s nothing to change their minds except themselves. Leave the town isolated long enough and they’ll trend towards feeling fundamentally different from other towns and people. And if that feeling of separation persists long enough without being challenged, it can get more ingrained and react aggressively when faced with anything “other.”

Real-world towns aren’t usually that isolated, though splinter groups will form regardless of population density. But the difference in communication and lived experience between a rural town and urban life still harbors enough separation for the frequent formation of an “us and them” mentality.

Which is why it’s important for people to get out of their original mindset and experience the reality of a wider world. The hope is that for most people this will teach them to understand that the things they know aren’t everything. What I value isn’t always the same as what other people value. AND THAT’S NOT ALWAYS BAD.

And this applies to those who grew up in the big city, too, though often with a different kind of outcome.

For people who were always surrounded by many diverse opinions, “getting out” isn’t so much about realizing that other people exist. It’s more of a powerful jolt that even the myriad minds they may already know still don’t account for the infinite variety of the actual world, and that they should never settle thinking that they’ve got it all covered. And if they happen to be comfortably well-off, experiencing a part of the world or culture that does without all the pomp or decoration might lead them to question whether their priorities are well-placed.

During this conversation, mom mentioned how she and dad had lived in multiple large cities and I realized that that was likely a major influence in why my religious education wasn’t as extreme as I sometimes hear from others. Because my parents understood that the world is large and other people we may not know still matter, we never learned to think of ourselves as special or better than anyone else just because we were white or “knew the truth.” I always personally approached the supernatural claims of my religion as almost mundane. “It’s just how the world works, nothing mystical.” And no idea ever felt too sacrosanct to consider. I wasn’t scared to question my faith because doing so would somehow be “wrong.” And once I became cognizant that my attractions qualified under the label of gay, I never once felt pressured to pray it away.

If my parents hadn’t experienced the level of diverse thought that they had, there’s a good chance that they would have taught me and my siblings differently. I might have hated myself for liking men. They might have disowned me and my brother for admitting reality and following our own paths. We might not have any level of cordial relationship; or worse, one or both of us might not be around at all.

I’ve said many times before that diversity is beautiful. This is why.