I’m an autistic woman in a stable, mostly healthy marriage. I think our problems are minor compared to other people’s problems. But somebody needs to talk about autism and having sex. I guess that would be me.
Editor’s content notice: this article covers uncomfortable topics related to intimacy, masking, sex, coercion, sensory processing disorder, and difficulty communicating boundaries.
If I’m being honest, my sex life has tanked, moving from disappointing to disastrous.
I’m the one who realizes it’s disastrous, though, because I’m the one experiencing the disaster.
Originally, this was a longer article; however, after reader feedback, I’ve decided to split this into two separate articles. The second part, Sex Hacks for Sensory Avoiders, can be read by clicking here.
Words Mean Different Things to Me
My partner and I are very different when it comes to our personal needs. Our sensory profiles are polar opposite. I notice everything, feel everything, see everything, smell everything, taste everything, and all of that input is overwhelming at any time.
He notices very little external. He’s wholly consumed by what’s going on inside his head and body. For him, this is great. He can control what he senses and feels, to a degree, and is not as perpetually overwhelmed as me.
My sensory profile makes sex difficult. It doesn’t have to be, but another human is involved who is “normal” in the sexual arena. That makes this a social experience, and those don’t tend to go in my favor.
Noticing All the Things
Even if someone has brushed their teeth, I can smell the contents of their stomach churning. I can smell the inside of their nose. I can smell everything. I smell my body and yours, and the wall of scents swirl and close in on me, barricading me inside this invisible claustrophobic restraint.
When someone kisses my skin, hovers right over my face, breathes onto me, I’m awash in an empathetic intimacy overload and the fumes of bile and acid indigestion tinged with the mint of toothpaste.
They’ve left a slimy wet film of it on my forehead when they kissed it gingerly, and I panic because I want to throw them off and run away. The need to wipe it off is visceral and uncontrollable, but I’ll seem like a jerk because it’s not “normal” for me to feel this way.
But to me, for the intensity of the experience, they may as well have just emptied the juice from the bottom of a trash bag onto my face and neck.
Instead, I lie there and take it. I let that slime slick just fester on my forehead so that I can think of nothing else but that and the breath spiced with garlic, acid, and beer leading an uprising against my olfactory nerve.
I already know that my feelings are not typical– not even for someone with the sexual trauma I’ve experienced.
Eager hands grope and search, grope and search, the pressure not deep enough to keep me from feeling the insufferable intensity of electrified nerve endings burning through my fascia. Those hands travel over the spots that activate every insecurity and trauma association I have. Fingertips glide across my too-soft stomach, and I jerk and bat the offending hand away.
Every insecurity and shame I have is awakened. Like soldiers, they elbow their way to the forefront of my consciousness to report for duty. I’m supposed to be in the throes of passion, but I’m just being crushed by degradation and self-hate. The prying fingers move on and pause on a scar.
I notice everything.
My mask is so solid that I’m still appearing to be enjoying myself.
The exploration of my body graduates from fingers to mouth. Wiry beard pokes through my shirt, clings to my hair, debrides my neck. It is a million June bug legs, gripping and lifting, gripping and lifting.
I feel every micrometer of my skin like I live in five thousand bodies that are all communicating at once in screams and shrieks and languages I don’t speak.
The sensation remains even after my partner has moved on, a fire smouldering just under my skin.
The mouth sounds echo and reverberate through my head like a sadistic synesthetic ping pong ball lighting up every cortex of my short-circuiting brain. Why these noises bother me so much, I don’t know.
Wait Until Tomorrow
Always and without fail, my partner has a very obvious play when he wants to have sex. He starts by climbing in the bed and talking to me, which is not a huge part of our typical routine. It’s small talk coupled with cuddling, and those two things do not register very high on my sexual arousal meter.
I’m afraid he’s going to ask for sex, and I’m not ready for that. My day has been filled with overwhelm, I’m touched out, and I’m light years away from being in the headspace to have sex.
And almost every time, I ask him to wait until tomorrow. He doesn’t get it, and I don’t tell him. He doesn’t want to wait. He’s not mean about, and he’s willing to take the most minimal effort as a concession prize. “Give me a hand?” he pleads.
“If we do it tonight, then I’ll last longer tomorrow,” he promises. That’s not a selling point for me, at all. The conditions I need to be able to have– and enjoy– sex do not involve the promise of longer sex.
I don’t want to give a hand job. I don’t want to give a blow job. I don’t even want to watch and cheer.
What I want is a mutually-enjoyable experience, but I can’t get there this way. I mean, his drive is higher than mine, and he’s more flexible. I do try to accommodate him when it’s been a while, even if I’m not in the mood. He tries to coerce the mood, giving his best effort. This usually involves kissing, massage, licking, groping, whatever most people do when they are trying to inspire the mood.
It just doesn’t work for me, though. Maybe like two out of every five hundred attempts, but he thinks it’s worth the effort. What he doesn’t know is that it distresses me.
I try to weather the sensory tornado whipping into a welter inside me, the chaotic cacophony of sensory processing becomes sensory protesting.
He keeps begging, negotiating. He’s happy with anything and doesn’t complain, but I don’t want to do anything but to wait until tomorrow.
The unspoken truth is that I’m always the one who says no. I’m always the one who spoils it. I’m not spontaneous enough. I’m weird.
A few times, but rarely, he has expressed being hurt by my rejections. I’m terrified of that. I am very attracted to him, I love him, but sex is not casual to me like it is him, and I cannot get there quickly. I do not want to reject him, though, because that is an important part of expressing love and connection for him.
“Please, tomorrow.”
He will ask again, offer to just do it himself. He wants to kiss, but anything besides waiting until tomorrow will be too much for me. And, I won’t want it tomorrow because of tonight.
I feel like I’m not worth the wait. He never would say that, and he’s not thinking that, but that’s the message I receive in the moment. I’m feel like a slab of meat with no preferences or desires.
But it will take a long time for me to recover from my self-loathing and the unexpressed anger that I’m feeling.
Losing by Losing Harder
I start trying to explain myself, again. I’m feeling forced into explaining my autistic brain, again. There’s nothing less sexy than pathologizing my own sexual behavior and desire by detailing my rigidity, sensory sensitivities, and oddities, again. Autism and neuroscience make great pillow talk…
And now I’m that person who talks too much, again. I hate talking.
However it happens, it happens with no grace or style or excitement. I perform a duty under duress, or he takes care of himself, and I fake enthusiasm because I feel guilty for being so weird and difficult. He finishes and thanks me and tells me he loves me, then goes right to sleep.
Not me. My skin is still burning. It won’t stop. I rub and rub at those places so hard that they’re left raw. I’m trying to erase the feeling. It’s still there.
I stand up, walk around, pace. The sleep medications I had taken have passed their window of being effective. Now they’re just enough to make my restless legs jump.
I’m trying to outpace this meltdown. I rifle through the medicine cabinet, swearing at my conservative psychiatrist who sees my stress as if it is other people’s stress.
It’s not. I need elephant tranquilizers right now and he wants to give me something like Benadryl.
But this feeling won’t leave my skin. It grows roots under my flesh and spreads, a wildfire devastating my psychic ecosystem. I feel like some deranged character from Edgar Allan Poe’s discard pile.
Headphones would help, but I don’t remember them until the next day when I go to write about this disaster in an article. I can’t think of anything that will help.
He’s sleeping like a rock, and the pinnacle of my problem solving skills is the redundant refrain of contemplating dousing myself with gasoline. Tomorrow, I will wake up embattled and face the day starting with nothing to give.
Either the meltdown comes, or I’ve obliterated myself trying to externalize the sensations enough to control them… by self harming, or self medicating, or self loathing myself into a catatonic state.
If he had only waited until tomorrow…
It takes me a long time to be ready for sex. The dopamine flood of a new relationship made this easier to navigate, but that faded with time as it does with all long-term relationships.
Eventually, I had to go back to navigating my defiant neurology like a research scientist fumbling through trial-and-error or a high-stakes gambler betting the house on my ability to make it to the end without showing all my autism cards.
I am not asexual. I actually really enjoy sex, but only under the right conditions. These can be highly specific, and they always require time.
I have to have time. I have to prepare in advance, mentally. It’s takes a conscious effort to coordinate and rearrange my neural ruts so that I can be in the right gear. I can’t travel to places without first laying tracks.
It’s like I have to visualize a path to sexual desire, like a cosmic ribbon weaving itself in different directions, tying together each disparate cortex of my brain needed to make sex happen.
Then I’m ready.
If I can get there, I’m very ready. When it happens that way, I imagine what I experience is better than what most people experience.
Sex Isn’t Sex to Me
For me, it takes a lot of intellectual stimulation to want sex. Sex isn’t sex in my fantasy life, but a lot of converging energies and sensations that come from this volley of innuendo, metaphors buried deep in lyrics and poetry, and a building crescendo of anticipation.
The sex, at least, is not the fun part.
If he had waited until tomorrow, I would have started the process of preparing right then. I would have felt honored and respected and worth the wait, my feelings valued more than his physical gratification. That claustrophobic feeling of being coerced would’ve left me.
I would probably would have made it harder for him, no pun intended. Maybe that’s a little mean. Using explicit language whispered in his ear, I would’ve made a promise about the plans I had for the next day. He would’ve squirmed and groaned— and maybe it would have taken three minutes to fall asleep as opposed to his customary ten seconds.
And I would’ve spent an hour or two or three thinking about the next day and planning it, writing a script in my head.
Scripts for Sex
Yes, I’m aware that scripted sex might seem boring to most people. It’s a very autistic thing, sure.
But I’m a really good writer.
And to be frank, most of you approach sex with the finesse of an overzealous Saint Bernard. Your sloppy paw placement, profuse slobbering, aggressive panting, and lack of attention to detail is a hostile sensory assault.
Ideally, this wouldn’t be a one day event. The anticipation would build over the course of several days. There would be veiled text messages sent through the day while he was at work, thoughtfully placed and timed promises that almost seem like delicious threats, metaphors, massages without happy endings, until the anticipation grew to the point of delirium.
But, I could have made a lot of progress to that end in a day. It wouldn’t have been worthy of a chapter in some pop guru’s tantric sexual dynamics book, but it would’ve been better than a reluctant hand job– for both of us.
Prep also would mean that I did or did not do things that would kill the mood.
I could have avoided the foods and activities that cause me to feel sluggish or overwhelmed, taken time for self care, curated my playlist (songs and moves), timed my shower, worn something other than my most ragged underwear and sweatpants, tidied up the room, shaved my legs, held off on my sleep meds, and could have spent the time daydreaming about what might leave both of us reeling.
Consent
Consent is important, and sex is not something that is healthy to mask your way through as if you’re enjoying it when it’s not meeting your needs. Your whole life is probably like that, and having sex is harder every time you “put on a brave face.”
Your autistic partner might not get even your most fervent hints. They might see soft hints as an invitation to negotiate and not as a hard “no.” And you might have a hard time saying “no.”
It’s important to have these conversations first, before anything happens. Many autistic people may go mute during sex, whether it’s really good or it’s really bad sex.
Work out some signal or stop point that works for both of you, and respect that instantly. Work out a secondary “slow down” point, or a “don’t do that specific thing but keep going” signal.
Because without question, “taking one for the team” is not a good strategy. The more times you go along with it because you want to please your partner, the more you will associate sex negatively and the harder it will be to get back to a place where sex is mutually gratifying.
- Poetry: Cosmic Archaeologist - December 6, 2021
- A poem that shouldn’t exist and isn’t a real poem anyway - March 23, 2021
- Sensory Sex Hacks for Autistics - January 30, 2021
33 Responses
Oh, my. You explained the sensory overwhelm of sex so perfectly here.
I was married for ten years. I always felt that sex was something that someone else did. I was a loving husband, but for me sex was a mechanical experience. I enjoyed the release to be sure, but my goal was always to make her feel better, because I always felt like I wasn’t myself when I was having sex (like the author, I include any number of acts under that rubric). I always felt better when she would tell sexy stories, because then she and I could be in the same out of body experience together. It got a bit boring when the stories were repetitive. It’s also possible that as our fights became more frequent and sex became less frequent, I grew to live without it. In short, this piece really speaks to me.
Yes, the storytelling is the part that feels like connection, that is exciting and maybe even in some way transcendent. Mechanical sounds about right. I feel guilty about it, because I was not like this when we first got together. I thought that I had found a “healing love,” but I’d really found a healing dopamine and oxytocin rush that was a temporary balm on my sensory issues.
You are expressing yourself well and your partner is *choosing* to ignore your feelings and push your boundaries. I’ve . . . been there. It’s not that he doesn’t understand, he just doesn’t think your feelings matter like his do. As an autistic woman, this was really difficult for me to understand. I always thought that it was me, and if I could just learn to communicate my feelings and boundaries properly, some NT person who is supposed to love or care about me would engage with my feelings in good faith, because I am *always* operating in good faith etc –
It can take us a while to see when someone we love is, fundamentally, NOT, operating in good faith.
You are being clear, and he is being clear that he sees your feelings and boundaries and things to be negotiated.
And now I’m going to be clear:
That is abusive.
It will not be confined to sex, because it is a baseline unwillingness to respect you and to see you as just as much of a person as he is.
It’s not ok, and it’s not just about this one thing. It will be about anything that you need, if it conflicts with his wants
Please find a way out.
Completely agree with Rachel. You shouldn’t have to go through that! Unless they genuinely have no idea that it’s affecting you to such an extent, someone that truly loves and values you wouldn’t want you to suffer like that.
“ That is abusive.
It will not be confined to sex, because it is a baseline unwillingness to respect you and to see you as just as much of a person as he is.
It’s not ok, and it’s not just about this one thing. It will be about anything that you need, if it conflicts with his wants”. AMEN – I stayed in a marriage where I experienced what this author describes over and over again for 24 years before realizing I was being abused- verbally, emotionally, psychologically as well as sexually- I believed he loved me because he said he loved me, but that is not love! It has been almost a year now since I finally left him. It has been terribly hard, but I would never go back.
I have to say that my thoughts were the same like Rachels when reading this. You’re not wrong about anything, your desires matter. Probably sapiosexual. Been through similar experiences and heard so many similar stories by autistic women.
Please love yourself deeper and let nothing be done to you and your body which feels wring to you.
Thank you so much for writing this article!
I agree with the above three comments. I was shocked to read this because it sounds like a painfully intimate description of sexual abuse (emotionally coercing someone into “sexual activity” that makes them go through hell – what else to call this?). Frankly I think the article should have a trigger warning (about abuse), because as I opened it I expected advice on meeting sensory needs but was not prepared for reading such painful content.
I think what you describe really goes far beyond pure sensory discomfort and fully into the territory of sexual violation and coercion.
I think it was extremely courageous of you to publish this article and it’s not really on me to comment on things like the author’s relationships etc., but I was really shaken to read the beginning of the article and get the sense that the author accepts as ordinary (or at least not totally outrageous) this level of both psychological boundary violation from a partner (it might be unconscious and/or culturally sanctioned, but it’s still clearly abuse and has to be flagged as such) plus the heart-wrenching suffering inflicted by self-coercion. I would say, really put a trigger warning on this one and mention that it talks – also – about sexual abuse and the consequences of sexual abuse (like accepting more of it without realising). Really a lot of complex and deep topics far beyond sensory needs, like sexual and psychological boundaries, gender (are women frequently conditioned to feel obliged to accept boundary violation and coercion, for cultural reasons (rape culture), and how does this differ for men), PTSD, different sexualities (like sapiosexual mentioned above, asexual, there is probably more), and the whole topic around consent is really far wider and deeper, might also include e.g. consensually non-monogamous relationship structures where the partners really have different needs, etc.
Also perhaps worth emphasising strongly that nobody (autistic or not, of whatever sexuality or relationships status) has the obligation to trick or coerce themselves into sex (at all) in the name of “normal.” Our psychophysical integrity is not worth this.
I agree with the above three comments. I was shocked to read this because it sounds like a painfully intimate description of sexual abuse (emotionally coercing someone into “sexual activity” that makes them go through hell – what else to call this?). Frankly I think the article should have a trigger warning (about abuse), because as I opened it I expected advice on meeting sensory needs but was not prepared for reading such painful content.
I think what you describe really goes far beyond pure sensory discomfort and fully into the territory of sexual violation and coercion.
I think it was extremely courageous of you to publish this article and it’s not on me to comment things like the author’s relationships etc., but I was really shaken to read the beginning of the article and get the sense that the author accepts as ordinary (or at least not totally outrageous) this level of both psychological boundary violation from a partner (it might be unconscious and/or culturally sanctioned, but it’s still clearly abuse and has to be flagged as such), plus the heart-wrenching suffering inflicted by self-coercion.
I would say, really put a trigger warning on this one and mention that it talks – also – about sexual abuse and the consequences of sexual abuse (like accepting more extreme boundary violation without realising). Really a lot of complex and deep topics far beyond sensory needs, like sexual and psychological boundaries, gender (are women frequently conditioned to feel obliged to accept boundary violation and coercion, for cultural reasons (rape culture), and how does this differ for men), PTSD, different sexualities (like sapiosexual mentioned above, asexual, there is probably more), and the whole topic around consent is complex (might also include e.g. consensually non-monogamous relationship structures where the partners really have different needs, etc.).
Also worth emphasising strongly that nobody (autistic or not, of whatever sexuality or relationships status) has the obligation to trick or coerce themselves into sex (at all) in the name of “normal.” Our psychophysical integrity is not worth this.
Seconding everyone in the comments, it shouldn’t be this much of a strife to have your needs met no matter how inside or outside the “norm” they are, and your partner shouldn’t make you feel guilty for having boundaries and alternatives. In fact, it’s alarming how people bend over backwards to try to match a reality instead of taking it at face value (especially in sex), but your partner isn’t even trying and is placing unreasonable demands on you.
(Not to mention how we autistic people often are made to feel that our boundaries don’t matter because they’re too “odd” in communication itself, not just on sex. Masking ensues.)
The dominant narrative about sex is lacking on the many layers you describe and it limits opportunities to meet people because there is one way to have it that is prized over others. I feel that in sex education the concept of “having sexual baggage of any kind” should be more explored, the conversations are overwhelmingly about “fixing these problems” instead of meeting someone where they actually are and it’s a disservice. If we approached sex without feeling the need to fulfill a standard, there should be less need to mask.
Thank you for writing this.
I think I might cry. To find such a vivid and thorough description of what I go through when having sex means so much. I’m not alone in the dread of seeing those signals and knowing I’m going to say no. I’m not alone in that strange guilt of rejecting something I have every right to reject. I go mute during sex and feel like I’m trapped in my head, unable to get what I want or express what I need. The idea of a script and signals is so good. Thank you so much for writing this.
This really needs a serious issues around consent TW. I made an account just to say that.
What is really concerning to me is the seeming inability to discuss any of this with your partner. Most of the comments so far have been around how the partner is awful and abusive etc, but it seems to me people are completely missing the fact that the author has stated many times in here that they’ve not actually told him ANY of this. Other than them always saying ‘can it wait’ – it seems none of these things are actually known to him. I can’t imagine how it would feel to find out after so long that you’d had these feelings all along and not trusted him with them. I feel like that is the first issue to overcome – the trust.
Why is there a lack of trust there and does it have to do with HIS behaviour or just the author’s need to mask to seem ‘normal’. I am autistic with ADHD, a history of sexual trauma, c-ptsd, and ptsd, and I know what it’s like to be in this situation so I’m not just crowing to ‘see both sides’ here. I’ve been on both sides of this in my lifetime and yeah, the concerning part to me was the amount the partner doesn’t know. I feel like that has to be the first step in ANY sexual relationship is talking about sensory things, about what is good and what isn’t, about what sort of things we each need/want. And no, it’s not easy, it took my husband and I years into our marriage to break down all our walls and at that point, we realized we just weren’t sexually compatible. But working on trust has to come first before anything else. ND or NT. I hope the author can work on this with their partner and find a way through that is pleasurable and happy-making for both of them.
With that aside, I’m sharing this article with the other autistics I know. Some really good tips and suggestions in here.
Whoa. I have some sensory problems and this so perfectly explains it. I can’t claim to have the same level of bodily awareness as what you describe, but I have so much respect for how you approach and describe it. Wow.
Describing the overzealous behavior as a St. Bernard… excellent.
“And to be frank, most of you approach sex with the finesse of an overzealous Saint Bernard. Your sloppy paw placement, profuse slobbering, aggressive panting, and lack of attention to detail is a hostile sensory assault.
“ YES. I have a high libido and get highly overloaded with all the senses and can obsess about too much of one and not enough of another, but I savor sensual experiences and want more. But if I’m emotionally off or the trust has been blown (even or especially if the destruction of trust had nothing to do with sex) the libido dies. Hard and fast.
Please please please – put a trigger warning on this article. I was not expecting the turn that this article took. Anyone who has experienced sexual assault could be highly traumatized by the descriptions in this article. As an autistic person, I came to this hoping to connect with someone else’s experience of sex as an autistic person – and instead read a long narrative about coercion and rape. Not cool. You need to warn people about this kind of content.
Yeah, this isn’t some difficulty inherent to autism, this is your partner straight-up not caring about how you feel as long as he gets to use your body as a masturbation aid. He’s treating you as the equivalent of a sex doll, obligated to put out whenever he wants so he doesn’t feel “hurt” by your lack of consent. Even most neurotypical women would feel unhappy in such a relationship. I think you need to reconsider whether someone who thinks you’re obligated to provide him with sexual gratification, but has apparently never bothered to ask what YOU want out of sex or what he could do to make it better for you, is really worth staying with.
Just sounds like poor communication to me.
A lot of these descriptions are spot on for me, minus the coercion part. I also find it very difficult to express my needs because of my alexithymia. There are so many factors that go into satisfying sex, and tbh, he could start with cleaning the house from time to time, taking care of dinner and “tell me I’m pretty”.
It’s easy for you to lose your virginity because you’re female and therefore don’t have to try at all to find a relationship. It just automatically happens to you. If you’re a girl, all you have to do is not be ugly and guys will always ask you out no matter what. But if you’re a guy and you’re autistic like me, you’re certain to be single forever because the guys are always expected to initiate everything and make every move. If you have difficulty with that, enjoy being single forever. Autism is unattractive and instantly repulsive to women no matter how good-looking the autistic guy is. On the other hand, any girl who is not ugly will be loved by guys, even if she is autistic. Notice how every autistic girl is always in a relationship or married but every autistic guy is always single. I hate that unfair double standard so much. No women ever like me because my autism is always an instant turnoff and deal-breaker. It doesn’t help that I’m unemployed and unable to drive.
The reason women don’t like you is because you’re an awful person and unpleasant to be around. This has nothing to do with your autism- which is actually much harder for girls by the way. How dare you comment this on an article dealing with such a heavy topic. The author describes being painfully coerced into sex, and your reaction is to pontificate on your problems as a man who has never been in that position? I hope a woman never has to suffer you.
This is just not true. My husband is autistic. He’s wonderful and the only person who has ever truly loved and protected me. I couldn’t imagine a world without him and my greatest fear is losing him. Also, every single really good friend I’ve ever had has been on the spectrum.
I value neurodivergent people above neurotypical ones because they have proven time and time again to be the most loyal with my best interests at heart.
My wife and I have been married for almost 18 years, together for 20. She relates to your article as she is on the spectrum for Autism. I on the other hand am diagnosed as an adult with ADD (Attention Deficit Disorder). She has the tenancy to be an extreme introvert as I am an extreme extrovert. If opposites attract we get the gold medal. She is more logical while I’m more emotional. She waits and I go full steam ahead.
We have grown together and love one another, yet we find that we contusion have to work on the simple things our everything falls apart.
To be open and honest, we want to improve our consistent sexual experience. Hopefully this isn’t TMI, if so move on. Otherwise what are some ways we can improve? We either have amazing horizontal fellowship or we don’t at all.
It took time as she never had pleasure prior to our relationship and it took us several years before I, thanks to God was able to give that to my beloved. More times than not I’m able to give her pleasure even if I’m not fulfilled. Especially if I’m only considering her and there is no simulation given from her to me. It feels as though I have to work a lot harder while she does very little to help me.
She is my world and I want us both to experience this m mutual gratification consistently.
Any help from the author would be appreciated.
Hi Timothy. Being on the autism spectrum is not an excuse for being selfish. Sex is supposed to be mutual, not one sided. I’m married to an autistic man and he is scrupulous on this point. More than anyone I know. For him, it’s not reasonable to take without giving. So I don’t think you can blame lack of reciprocity on autism.
Hey everyone, for perspective I’m a nine on the autism scale and my symptoms are primarily social. I get what everyone is saying about respecting boundaries and things like that, you’re right that she shouldn’t be forced or coerced into having sex. The flip side though is that it sounds like she NEVER wants to have sex, which would be a massive problem if you want to have a functioning relationship. I was in a sexless marriage (< 5 times a year) for 15 years before leaving, and I can tell you that the frustration is excruciating and real and can also cause psychological problems for the person being denied. If someone doesn't want to have sex then that is fine and totally up to them, but they should already know that about themselves, be upfront and honest about that, and accept the difficulties that brings with finding a partner before starting a relationship with someone. Scheduling sex is a common thing for many couples and it sounds like this is the best way forward if she wants to stay with this partner since she says planning it in advance helps her to get in the mood and set up the right conditions to manage her symptoms. He will have to respect that need for advance notice in order for her to feel comfortable and in control. A "partnership" is about both sides finding balance and meeting each other's needs, otherwise its a dictatorship for whoever blinks last.
Sex is not essential to having a functional relationship for every person on this planet. False. Sex without love takes place all the time. Love without sex exists if you lot can wrap your allosexual heads around it. Romantic love does not stop being romantic love in the absence of sex. Just because two people stop boinking (or never boink at all) doesn’t make their relationship any less valid than two people going at it like rabbits. The amount of sex you have is not a predictor of how much you love each other or how committed you are to one another.
Sex does not equal a healthy relationship by default. A lack of sex does not equate a failing relationship. This is toxic bullshite from sex crazed society. And media.
The author explicitly says she is not asexual but I don’t think she even knows what the definition is, and neither do any of you on here. ASD folks have high levels of sex repulsion and are more likely to be ace-spec or fall into asexuality spectrum. Visit AVEN for more info.
The Author is probably on the asexuality spectrum. She definitely sounds sex repulsed, which is not something you need to be autistic to experience, either.
Graysexuality and demisexuality are terms that that mean your ability to be sexually aroused is limited to highly specific conditions and circumstances. They fall under the umbrella of asexuality. Most asexual people never experience sexual attraction to anyone. This means they do not need to seek out sex. Some are sex-neutral. Some are sex-repulsed. Some are sex positive and negotiate sex to start families and appease allosexual partners.
Asexual people still have libidos and functioning equipment. It’s not a choice like deciding to be abstinent or a hormone disorder where you cannot physically become aroused. If anything it’s annoying for asexual people to be aroused/have a libido with no clear source/rhyme/reason/target for the urge other than hormones. But my point on the matter in responding to you, is that two people can be romantically involved without sex and it is just as valid. Don’t take a massive dump on other people for not needing sex or being different than you. Other types exist. Let that blow your mind, I guess. Asexuals are 1% of the population. They can ID attractive people but don’t feel sexual attraction to others. Or if they do it is under very specific circumstances (see AVEN for definitions of demisexuality and graysexuality). It doesn’t mean asexual people are aromantic by default, they just don’t look at their partners as sexual objects or things to fck or bodies to seek pleasure from. It doesn’t occur to us. For Ace spec like me, love is an emotional thing and sex doesn’t even factor into it.
I am also autistic. However, you spent the entirety of your article whining, playing victim, and complaining. I found you immensely unlikable.
You’re not special.
If you haven’t told him any of what you’ve written above, then you should seriously consider doing so.
We just found out my wife has autism and after finding this article myself and showing her identifies with many aspects of it especially around touch and not wanting it at all.
As the “evil” man in the situation (according to the above comments) I can tell you that I feel incredibly saddened by all of this, reading this article was quite the revelation.. Its quite a blow to you when you find out your wife can’t stand you touching her and feels guilty as fuck when she pushes you away.. Or worse.. Has sex with you and hates it unless of course its 200% on her terms, and just because you own the penis in the situation you’re the one who automatically doesn’t matter and should be ashamed.
I think the bottom line is this.. If you’re not sexually compatible you need to figure out if you can deal with it or not.. Because its not going to work on pitty sex shit like this and what the author wrote is just heart breaking for everyone involved.
As for the author.. Send him the link to this article, tell him you wrote it and if he truly has no idea watch his heartbreak when he realises how you’ve truly felt all a long.
This is great because it helps me understand my autistic partner. Everything about this lines up. But being the “St. Bernard” who sees sex as something that should be frequent and lighthearted – i’m terrified. It confirms my suspicions and concerns but doesn’t really offer any advice. You did a wonderful job helping myself understand what over-stimulation is like. I just feel like taking care of myself 90% of the time is not how a loving relationship should be. It also starts to become more dire when my thoughts start to wander towards thinking about what sex could be like with a partner who wants it as much as i do. It hurts that i don’t remember when the last time my initiation brought honest arousal in my partner.
P.S. Pretty heated comment section. Kind of relieved I’m not the only one banging their head against a wall.
Oh. My. God! I have been trying to put how I feel about sex into words for years and years. I’m too overwhelmed to even finish this article right now but will save it for later. I’d like to have my husband read it, but I think it would break his heart.
Now that I realize I am most likely AuDHD our marriage is coming to an end.