What does it mean, exactly, to be "asexual"? If you're a sea anemone, it means you reproduce without the union of male and female gametes. If you're human, it means, essentially, that you experience no sexual attraction to either males or females. Generally, you're not so much freaked out by sex as you are entirely neutral to it, if not a little puzzled by what all the fuss is about. "When someone brings up sex, I start thinking, 'I need to replace that light fixture, or I could take a nice hot bath, make myself a sandwich and pop "The Way We Were" into the VCR; I haven't watched that in a long time,'" says Debbie, 47, a self-described asexual who works in sales in northern Wisconsin and preferred not to use her last name to protect her privacy. "Sex is just not high on my list of priorities."
People with sexual aversion disorder, in contrast, might have anxiety or panic attacks in a sexual situation. People with hypoactive sexual desire disorder have low or no interest in sex or sexual fantasies, with no outside explanation (such as use of anti-depressants, which can diminish sex drive) for the condition. (In both cases, the patient's -- or the patient's partner's -- being bothered by the situation is essential to the "disorder" diagnosis.) For sufferers of both disorders, there's usually a before and after: They had a libido, and now it's gone, or in hiding.
Asexuals also distinguish themselves from celibates, as celibacy is considered voluntary. "Asexuality is not a choice," says AVEN founder David Jay, 22, who works for an educational nonprofit in San Francisco. "I never sat down and decided that I would be asexual."
What Jay did decide, when he "came out" as asexual, was that he was not going to just wait around for his sex drive to show up. "I'm still open to the idea that it could change; I just don't expect it to," he says. Jay, who started calling himself "asexual" when he was in high school, says he has many close friends, develops crushes on both men and women (more of an urge to see them 24/7 than to see them naked), and enjoys watching "Sex and the City" with friends anthropologically, as a way of observing how the other 99 percent lives. While Jay has never had intercourse ("I don't like the term 'virgin,'" he says, "because it implies that I'm innocent and that I haven't had sex yet, neither of which is true"), he has masturbated on occasion, and has also done his share of making out. "I've sort of had a mixed reaction to it, 'cause I like cuddling, and in a lot of ways, kissing is similar -- but it's not necessarily more appealing," he says.
Those who identify as asexual (or who, like Julie, use one of its cousin terms) report a variety of social and even sexual -- experiences. Some, like Julie, have plenty of friends, but no interest in more-thans; some are into cuddling, others not wild about touch at all. Some experience romantic attraction and seek intimate, though non-physical attachments. Some masturbate, but have no interest in sharing the love. Some identify themselves as gay, lesbian or bi (as in, "If I had sex, it would be with ..."). Still others have sexual experiences in spite of themselves (say, in an effort to please a partner). In fact, a recent study at Indiana University (though preliminary, and based on limited data) suggested that asexuals are defined more by their lack of interest in sex than by their lack of experience with it. (In less scientific terms, these are not people who just can't get laid.) Many asexuals even get married, though not always with great results. "I did go along with whatever sexual expectations my husband had," says Debbie. "But the only time I ever actively participated or wanted to was when my biological clock went off and I decided I wanted to have a baby." Debbie says the sexual disconnect was not the only reason her marriage ended, but it was up there.
It was Debbie's grown daughter who found information about asexuality online and introduced her mom to Haven for the Human Amoeba. Though Debbie says she's not shy, has many friends (who are aware of her orientation), and is even "out" to her co-workers, participating on the site has made a difference for her. "It's nice to know you're not alone," she says. "That you're not the one candle burning in the wind."
David Jay launched AVEN -- which now has about 100 active members as well as many more lurkers and drop-ins, he says -- in 2002 to offer asexuals a similar "I belong" experience. "We here at AVEN get along just fine without sex," he says. "In a world that places a high premium on sexuality it's easy to feel like you need sex to be happy. You don't. Asexuality is not a dysfunction, and there is no need to find a 'cause' or a 'cure.'" Because of that if-it-ain't-broke message, he says, "there are lot of people for whom finding the site was a really powerful experience. They were looking for a way to say, 'I'm not interested in sex and that's OK, I don't have to force myself or cut myself off from others entirely.' It's a place where people can find validation."
There are experts who think it's possible that at least some asexuals are hard-wired that way -- that when it came to the distribution of desire, biology simply dropped them at the lowest end of the bell curve. But not everyone is quite as charitable. "To me, to say that someone is 'asexual' is tantamount to saying that they're not a human being," says Barnaby Barratt, a sex therapist in Detroit and president of the American Association of Sex Educators, Counselors, and Therapists. "I would be profoundly critical of the idea that 'asexuality' is an 'orientation' or that it's somehow the inevitable way that some people are born. The basic building blocks of sexual patterning are there in everyone. The real question about what you're describing as 'asexual' is: What sort of history could make someone wind up being that closed down?"