volume seventy-four

maybe she’s born with it

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The first memory I have of my demisexuality being present was when my first boyfriend* of all of three days dumped me on the playground by calling me frigid. I had no idea what that word meant so instead of asking him to explain it to me, I very impressively asked “How so?”. Genius. I don’t remember his answer.

I do remember that at the time I was skipping right near him, but not with him. Rather I was playing with my best friend Sam. Sam and I would later go on to date for a record-breaking maybe five days before we got cornered, literally, into kissing for the first time by our friends. I was saved when I closed my eyes, shaking, puckered up and he shoved a squishy toy in my face and we both ran away.**

A couple of years later, at the local pool on a school trip, my boyfriend — the boy I had known since I was six years old and whose Mum was the lady who would help me with my inevitable nose bleeds every time we had P.E. class — was one of five people holding his towel as if it were bird wings. Together, this group created a wall with their wings in the corner, where Jessica and Matt were kissing for the very first time. Jessica called me over, but, I was already being sent over by the principal to tell them to “stop whatever it is they were doing”. Jessica told me to come on in, that it was my turn with James.

“The principal said you all have to stop what you’re doing!” I told them with my goodie-two-shoes tone (except my feet were bare, we were at the pool). Then walked away as my name was called over and over and I looked back seeing Jessica smiling and beckoning me, James looking defeated, and me? I pretended I couldn’t hear them, giving a “Sorry, what are you saying?” expression while still moving further away.

No way in hell was I going to kiss him. That was terrifying. Just because he was my boyfriend didn’t mean I wanted to do that. Gross.***

When I started high school, I got to attend underage dance parties. These were a chance for people from the ages of thirteen to seventeen to dress up and dance on podiums in the dark with a disco ball and a DJ. Disturbing. It meant that people from all different schools were there and that meant Alex was there. Alex, who I had adored all through Year 6 — before we were ripped apart from each other to go to different high schools — was finally single. His long-term relationship with Erin**** ended, and he asked me to dance! What a dream. We awkwardly danced (this honestly still makes me cringe) with our hands in each other's back jean pockets with all our friends looking on. I hated every second even though it was what I had always longed for.

I remember a song ending and me taking that as the perfect opportunity to take a seat, where he sat across from me and asked me if I would like to “hook up?” My super smooth response was “I don’t think I like you that much yet.”

The honesty of that response once again got me given labels, labels that would mean Alex would break my little young heart. But I think about little Lauren and I think about that response and I think about how much it ate me alive. How I flinched when I replayed that moment over and over. How I obsessed over how much of a loser I felt to have said that. Compared to now when I think “Oh my goodness, so much love for you little Lauren, that was nothing but the truth.”

Not wanting to be physical with someone because “I don’t think I like you that much yet” is the core of my demisexuality. It is not a choice to wait. Demisexuality stays and lingers as long as it wants to. Even when you have been madly crushing on someone for years, even when peer pressure strikes, even when you are met with the embarrassment of being dumped while you’re in the middle of jumping rope on the playground. Nothing will make it feel okay until it does all on its own. And that has been my life from the age of four when I first recall being told by family members that I had a crush, until now.

You could be perfect for me in every way, you could check every one of my so-called boxes of the ideal partner and I could see all the potential in our relationship, and even daydream about it all the time. But unless you’re patient enough with me — and maybe not even then — we will never go further than a thought.

That is something I can now love and value about myself because I know when I do get there, it is magical.

*Mitch and I grew up to both share an appreciation of Slash and attended a few concerts together in our early twenties.

**Sam and I are both happy Queer adults and he was recently a guest on my podcast.

***Is this demisexuality or is it just a lifetime of compulsory heterosexuality? Your answer is as good as mine.

****Erin and I reconnected on IG during lockdowns and discovered we are both a happy lesbian and a happy bisexual, respectively. She was probably the first girl I had a crush on based on the letters I sent her which is what sparked the reconnection when she found them, but that’s another substack.

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got an idea for a future volume? want to hear my thoughts on something? feel I am not sharing enough as a chronic oversharer? ask me an anonymous question and I will answer it in a future post.

here are three things I struggled with this week:

🥴 My ego.

🧘 Getting my solitude.

🪢 Letting go of what is not in my control.

here are three blessings from this week:

🌞 SUN! Glorious sun!

💭 Drifting off into daydreams of the past.

✏️ Thanks to two wonderful friends, my excitement in my various writing projects is reignited!

here are three goals for the coming week:

🖊️ Document more gems that Poppy blurts out. With his dementia, he still has a sense of humour. Like this one:

Poppy: Where’s Nanny?

Me (answering the question for the billionth time today and wanting to mix things up): She ran away with the circus.

Poppy: Do you promise?

💆🏻‍♀️ A relaxing weekend — like really relaxing, don’t call, don’t text, don’t email — with my cooler younger cousin.

✨ Make progress on a few little bits that I have left aside for a moment. I am all systems go and ready to be joyful in my creativity.

here is something I enjoyed this week: 

Molly’s Poetry Busking! What a divine delight! What a complete joy! I had the honour of getting one of these in the mail (as well as an audio version of her reading it). It was such an incredibly thoughtful gift made with so much talent and care. Go and get one! They make a fabulous Christmas gift.

pics or it didn’t happen:

poppy does a lot of sitting and waiting — he is ready three hours early for everything — this is me joining him for some of it

I love you. I’m so grateful to those who read my substack 🧡 because I really love writing it to you,

LD

xoxo