Loveless

by Alice Oseman

She finds a lot of people physically attractive, but she just doesn’t fall in love with them.”

“It took her some time to feel happy with herself, but … I mean, you met her. She’s happy with who she is.

knowing who you are and loving yourself is so much better than that, I think.”

“I’m glad you were curious. It’s always good to be curious.” I was curious now, that’s for sure.

And I wanted to fall in love. I really, really did. I definitely would someday.

Why couldn’t I fall in love with anyone?

When I got back to my room, the people upstairs were having sex again. Rhythmic thumping against the wall. I hated it, but then I felt bad, because maybe it was two people in love.

I could see it all, all the time, all around, but when I got closer, I found that nothing was there. A mirage.

“I would I could find in my heart that I had not a hard heart; for, truly, I love none.”

“It’s funny how much stuff revolves around sex. I don’t even think I’d need it in a relationship.”

don’t think it’s a deal-breaker. If the other person didn’t want to do it that much. Or at all, I guess.” He looked up from behind the book. “What? Is that weird?”

“If you really loved someone, I just think you wouldn’t really … care so much about things like that.

No sex, but still a romance. A relationship. Kissing Jason, holding hands with Jason. Being in love.

Sunil said he felt indifferent about sex. I’d never heard anyone talk about sex like that before.

did want to talk about stuff like this with someone. And I did think that talking about it might help me figure some stuff out.

whenever I was in the mood to read a smutty fanfic. It felt like a safe, fun way to get turned on and have a good time.

It wasn’t about bodies and genitals for me. It was about chemistry.

I’d never fantasized about myself having sex. And that was different from most people. I was different. How had I never realized this before?

Picturing fanfic characters having sex? Great. Fine. Sexy. But picturing myself having sex with anyone, guy, girl, whoever, didn’t interest me.

“Don’t do anything you don’t want to do, OK?”

God, it was easy to talk to Jason.

But I already knew there was nothing to fix. I was always going to be like this. He met my eyes, questioning. Then he leaned in and pressed his lips to mine.

I didn’t know what else to say but the truth at this point.

“Knowing full well that I really liked you.”

Jason had real feelings for me. He deserved someone who was actually able to reciprocate.

It was knowing, with absolute certainty, that I was never, ever going to fall in love with anybody.

spent my whole life believing that romantic love was waiting for me. That one day I’d find it and I would be totally, finally happy. But now I had to accept that it would never happen. None of it. No romance. No marriage. No sex.

Would never even want to do or feel comfortable doing.

though I’d longed for these things, I knew that they’d never make me happy anyway. The idea was beautiful. But the reality made me sick.

How could I feel so sad about giving up these things that I did not actually want?

I was grieving this fake life, a fantasy future that I was never going to live.

I’ve always hated being asked if I’m “OK.” The available answers are either to lie and say I’m fine, or to massively and embarrassingly overshare.

thought it’d be fun, but it just made me feel … lonely.”

I might … be starting to like someone new.” “Yeah?” “I really … don’t want to be doing that.” “Why?” “It just won’t end well.”

The whole idea that people always grew up, fell in love, and got married was a complete lie. How long would it take me to accept that?

“I started thinking what would happen if people knew it was my birthday.

She wanted what a relationship would give her. “You want someone to know you,” I said.

“I’m just lonely. I’m just so lonely all the time.”

I had messaged him to apologize again, to try and explain, even though I was shit at articulating any of my thoughts and feelings. He’d read it but didn’t reply.

wondering how I was going to salvage our friendship out of the chaos I’d created.

mourning. The wistfulness. The fantasy of something that could never happen. I’d never experienced unrequited love. I never would.

I hated myself right now for a lot of reasons, but at least I had this.

figuring out my sexuality had unearthed a new kind of self-hatred I hadn’t been ready for. I’d thought figuring that out was supposed to make you feel proud, or something. Clearly not.

I sometimes noticed Rooney turn away, put physical distance between them, like she didn’t want Pip to even see her. Like she was scared what would happen if they got too close. I

I did what I always did and stayed silent but attentive, smiling and nodding when people spoke but not really knowing how to get involved in any of the conversations.

I felt lower than I had ever felt. I wanted to snap out of it, but I couldn’t.

This was who I was. I was never going to experience romantic love, all because of my sexuality—a fundamental part of my being that I couldn’t change.

I didn’t feel like that anymore. I would never be one of these people. Flirting. Falling in love. Happily ever after.

The words were on the tip of my tongue. Because I am aromantic and asexual. But it sounded clunky. They still felt like fake words in my brain, secret words, whispered words that didn’t belong in the real world.