A Man in Sandals Reading a Book.

These are the things that attract me, human to human:

Photo by Bùi Nam Phong from Pexels

Why do you really want to know what attracts me? Why do you really care?

Since you asked, I’ll answer.

When I’m in the right mood — everything attracts me. A glimpse of a stranger’s elbow. Someone’s stride that reminds me of a past lover. A man in a suit. A man in sandals reading a book. The little tummy bump protruding, hidden in a high-waisted skirt. And smiles. I’m a sucker for smiles.

When I’m not in the right mood, nothing attracts me. Not even my partner’s smile, which is the most attractive thing in the whole wide world for me. Always have, always will — when I’m in the right mood, that is.

But let’s get real here. This is not why you were asking. And that’s not what you really wanted to know. You wanted to know where I fit on the scale that society has drawn for defining sexuality.

Heterosexual, homosexual, bisexual, pansexual, demisexual, the list probably goes on beyond my capacity to follow.

And the reason you wanted to know, is because you want to know you’re not alone. You wanted to know that it’s normal. Normal to be non-binary. Normal to not fit in any of these boxes.

Let me tell you this: it is normal. You are normal.

It is not normal to try and fit yourself into non-existent boxes just for the sake of — I’m not even sure the sake of what.

And since you really want to know, I’ll tell you.

I prefer looking at women’s bodies over men’s bodies. I’m attracted to the way they look.

But I’m not interested in having sex with women.

When I see a man that I’m attracted to, I might feel a pull towards being close to him. At times I might even imagine, how would it be like to feel his touch on my own body? This could lead to fantasizing about all sorts of things. Things like having sex with him. Things like creating a family unit with him.

This is very different from how I feel and think when I see women’s bodies. I love looking at them, but it never develops into anything else. It’s simply a different type of attraction, that's all.

How are you going to put this into a box? Does this box exist? Or would you like to create one, just for me?

Does anyone else have a similar experience?

I don’t know. And honestly, I don’t really care. This is just me.

If I have to put myself in a box that defines my sexuality, it will be an introvert.

Which is completely ridiculous, as I write about sex and about my sex life. Although I don’t have any inclination of sharing my private moments with the world, I do.

It’s not because I want everyone to know about my sex life. It’s because I envision a world that has no sexual confusion. No sexual misconduct. A world that is completely happy with allowing consensual adults to do whatever they like to do with their own bodies.

And so I write to create my vision.

I write to let whoever wants to read, that it’s OK to be you. Even if you don’t fit into a box.

This story was published in response to Human Parts’ Weekend Writing Prompt, “The taste of vanilla and tobacco. Leather and lace and last night’s campfire. The rise and fall of a particularly broad chest. Tell the story of your sexuality — or lack thereof — without referencing the labels we wear to save time. What attracts you, human to human?” To receive prompts like this one every weekend, subscribe to their newsletter by following Human Parts.

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