A Sexual Precedent

Watching the 25-year old handsome guy, I think, “He has the whole package.”  David Jay is adorable, fit and intelligent.  Although, it must be noted that, he’s filming (A)sexual.

Jay formed an international group, calling for people who identify as asexual.  They connect over the internet and share coming-out stories.  In a single year, 20,000 members joined his e-club. Then—for non-procreating reasons—a collection of the members met in San Francisco.  He invited them to his home.  They seemed uncomfortable.

“How’s he going to get this party going?” I wonder.

“What do people do at a party when no one is attracted to the other? I mean, everyone doesn’t have to be attracted to someone. It doesn’t have to be a big orgy, but someone has to bring the chemistry.”

“It’s like when mom made me join the Science Club,” I quieted my escalating self.

“Goddd, that was excruciating.”

David Jay’s group had gathered together to march in a gay pride parade.  Once there, many of the parade supporters were nice and inquisitive about the right of the Asexuals to participate.  A few lesbians interrogated him, wanting details of his sexual history, “Do you masturbate?” and “Can you orgasm?”  They were so very clinical about his “sexual orientation.”  And, of course, an uncle Mary or two had to act up.  

“I pity your poor soul,” said a shirtless man passing by David.

“Why?”
“Because I don’t stand for what you stand for.”

I think the calloused ones thought he was stealing their sexy-thing thunder, reminding that one can just abstain. The difference between the Marys and the Jays is that Marys have an ability to sustain (immediately after sex, while in a committed relationship, or while mending a broken heart), but the Jays don’t have a choice. They have to make themselves want it. They have to overcompensate, enduring kisses and cuddling which comes natural for many. For the first time, I feel like a part of the majority.

                                                                                                                                    

Anyhoo, David Jay was on The View and Montel.  When MSNBC introduces him, they describe him as “a ladies’ man.” I wonder how this could be.  He explains that asexuals are just like everyone else and shouldn’t be treated unfairly because of the way they were born. Here, here! 

He’s right.  The psychologists said there were no significant causal factors— meaning, the asexual didn’t show any more signs of trauma than sexuals.  Asexuals are as myriad a collective as the sex-oriented.  The self-identifying asexuals range from interesting extroverts to eccentric introverts.  There are guys and girls, gays and straights.  It doesn’t seem fair, but many of them can check the box in more than one category.  I begin to think that I might be asexual, but then I remember that only last week I was autistic, and I remind myself that if a practicing lesbian happened to be sitting next to me, we wouldn’t be watching this.

I like David Jay.  He’s adorable.  At first he comes off as very butch; but, at Pride, he’s a bit flirty, leaning in to kiss one of the guys (on the cheek).  He doesn’t say he’s straight, but he doesn’t say he’s gay; he is asexual.  At a University where he is the guest speaker, he shows the Shane (L-Word) graph of his love connections. His circle is solid-line connected, most immediately, to an imaginary boyfriend. 

“This is the first I’ve heard of this,” I say in a concerned mother’s voice to Georgia, Cali, and Puff who are sharing one bed under the fire. 

I think back to a previous scene where he is with a ½ dozen friends.  David Jay is clearly smitten with one of the girls.  He doesn’t care that her boyfriend is watching him ogle.

“I’m confused,” I look for input from the snoring audience.

During the last few minutes, there’s a black screen with white letters, “Two Years Later.” For some reason, Jay filmed all of this and then nothing happened.  He has grown up.  He looks different.  I’m glad the director told him to wear the same groovy necklace because I wouldn’t have recognized him.  His energy is way off.  He’s not ear-to-ear smiles; he’s serious and somber, and he’s 27 in one of the most sexually active cities in the world.   

“I’m willing to put sex on the table for intimacy,” he forces the words through a half-utterance and deadpan stare. The guy looks defeated. His #1 girl ran off with her guy and his other girl ran off with a girl, and he’s realizing that he’s got to find a way to cope in a world where people pair up and shut the bedroom door.  Global mating is hell for soloist(s).

“Wow.” Put sex on the table. That’s such an odd concept. I imagine many people wouldn’t know how to take sex off the table, the couch, or the bed for intimacy.   More, I’m used to taking stuff off for the act of intimacy—like selfishness, hobbies and Levis. I’m not accustomed to putting things on it.  We start with those cards there.   

This guy truly begins from a different zenith point.  Throughout the film, you understand that he’s highly introspective and knows that he’s different.  While I, and most of the non-asexual interviewees, continually said “Huh?” and “how does a relationship without sex work,” David Jay knew his truth.  He’s piloting into earth’s atmosphere from a different angle and looking for a landing pad.  He wants what many of us seek through/amidst/because of sex.  He wants intimacy.  The question is, when he gets intimacy, will he elect to surrender his Asexual “president” badge? 

If any of you have a funny story or an amusing awakening about discovering the difference between intimacy and sex— please share!