Chapter 9
Jordan
Shelley squeezes the rabbit closer to herself as she blinks up at me shyly. “I’ve been meaning to tell you, thanks for not making a big deal about the voice memo thing. I’ve been kind of a wreck about it since it happened.”
“Like I said, you don’t have to be embarrassed about that around me. We don’t have to talk about it again. But we can, if you need to.”
“That’s the problem.” She sighs. “I don’t want to have to talk about it. I don’t even like to think about sex at all. It’s not the sex part I don’t like, though. It’s the thinking. When I do, I get all in my head and I can’t stay in the moment. You know, the moment. You get what I’m saying, right?”
I pick up the bottle from the nightstand and take a sip of the cider, wishing I had something stronger if we’re going to have this conversation now. “Yes, I’m aware how innuendos work. And you’re not exactly what I would call a subtle person.” That’s actually one of my favorite things about her.
“Right. Well, then I get anxious about the fact that I’m not staying in the moment, and I get upset with myself for ruining everything before it ever really gets started.”
I nod. “I think a lot of people feel that way. That’s kind of how it works for me, too, when I’m with someone. But it takes me a long time to get to that point with a person.”
Her eyes flick up to mine, and I realize this is the first time I’ve mentioned my own hangups to her. Or to anyone.
“You know, it’s a little unfair that you know so much about my sex life and I now know more about Honey’s love life than I do about yours,” Shelley tries to joke, but there’s too much truth in it, so neither of us laughs.
I swallow another sip of cider and take a long pause before I ask, “What do you want to know?”
She takes a moment to think before she says, “I feel like since we’ve spent so much time talking about me, it’s only fair for you to have to tell me something personal and embarrassing. First kiss?”
“It was with a girl I dated in high school. Her name was Tiffany. We were together for a while. She was my first for a lot of things, actually, including my first heartbreak.”
“Okay, cheater. That’s much more endearing than embarrassing.”
“You only asked about my first kiss. If I tell you I can still recite every line in the movie It Takes Two because it was her favorite, and I watched it every day for a week after she dumped me, will that help?”
Shelley lets out a small laugh and reaches out to squeeze my hand lightly. “A little, but it’s also incredibly sweet, so the embarrassment scales of justice are still very unbalanced here."
“What if I told you you’re still in my phone as Sea Shell because I saw a photo on social media of you dressed as a mermaid last Halloween?”
“Interesting. But no, that doesn’t cut it. We’re going to need to break out the big questions, I’m afraid. Like…what kind of porn do you watch? And not to kink shame, but after that last confession, please don’t say mermaids.”
I shrug. “I don’t.”
She rolls her eyes at me. Hard. “Come on. You don’t want to tell me specifics, that’s fine. But you’re a single guy in your twenties. Don’t expect me to believe you never watch it.”
“Do you really want to talk about this?”
“I mean, yeah, I kind of do want to talk about these things. But we don’t have to if I’m making you uncomfortable,” she assures me.
“It’s not that.”
“Then what is it?”
“I’ve seen it,” I admit. “Porn just doesn’t do anything for me.
Yeah, I guess I might be in the minority, but I wouldn’t know.
It’s not like we talk about our porn preferences in the locker room or at poker night.
Most people tend to keep those things to themselves.
” I shoot her a look and raise my eyebrows.
The blush that paints her cheeks pink makes me smirk.
“My friends and I don’t sit around having philosophical conversations about our sexuality, or lack thereof, on a regular basis. ”
“Believe me, I know. That’s why I asked if I could talk to you in the first place. It’s not like I can dig deep and figure this stuff out with a guy I just met on an app.” She looks down at her hands and starts twirling a hair tie she has around her wrist.
“Is that how you usually find people?”
She snaps the elastic gently against her skin.
“I’ve had my fair share of first dates, but they never go anywhere.
Starting law school and making a cross-country move doesn’t leave a lot of time for building relationships.
Between that and the fact that I’ve been seeing all these doctors.
” She heaves a long sigh. “You probably think I’m –”
“No. Whatever you’re about to say, I don’t,” I assure her.
“What did you mean ‘lack thereof?’” She steers the conversation back to me.
I shrug again. “Some of us just aren’t wired the same way most people are. Or are confused about…things.”
“Wait.” Shelley sits up straight and faces me fully. “Is this you coming out to me, Jordan?”
Am I? I weigh her question, and Shelley waits, eyes locked on my face, until I speak again.
“Maybe? I honestly don’t know. And I know that sounds stupid. It doesn’t really feel like an epic announcement. This is exactly what I’m talking about. I don’t know how to have this conversation.” I blow out a breath and rub both hands over my jaw.
She reaches out and takes one of my hands between both of hers. “You don’t have to say anything you don’t want to. I’m sorry if I pushed you. I only wanted you to know this friendship goes both ways, and I’m here to listen, too.”
“You didn’t push. It’s not a big deal.”
She doesn’t argue, but her nose pinches like she doesn’t quite believe that, so I try to explain.
“It hardly feels like a coming-out story to announce that I’m only sometimes attracted to people. I know it’s not exactly typical, but am I allowed to call myself queer just because I rarely care about sex?”
“Are you asking me or yourself? Because I’m not sure I’m qualified to answer, but I think you get to call yourself whatever you want.”
“I mean, yeah. Fair. That’s probably what I’d tell someone else, too. But what’s the difference between a queer guy who only sometimes likes women and a straight man with a low sex drive?”
“Probably how you feel about the idea of dating outside of that pool. What do you think about dating people who aren’t women?”
Once again, my shoulders rise and fall. “I’m more drawn to personalities than physicality.
I think I’d be open to it. But you would think if that were going to happen it would have happened by now, right?
I was serious about not being attracted to people often.
So far, all of my experience has been with women.
But maybe that’s just because those are the people I’ve happened to be attracted to. ”
Shelley’s tongue darts briefly out of the corner of her mouth, her nose still scrunched. It still looks like she wants to say something, but she’s holding back, trying to be a supportive listener.
“I know,” I tell her. It’s easy to predict what she wants to say. “Those don’t exactly sound like the thoughts of a straight guy, right? But…” I don’t know what else to tell her. Or myself.
If this is my ticket into the alphabet community, it feels like cheating.
My lack of desire for most humans is not really a hardship.
It’s not something I’m ever going to be discriminated against for feeling, especially when I’m dating women.
I won’t be denied a job or a marriage license over it.
It won’t affect my ability to have kids.
At most, some people in my life might rib me a little until I settle down with someone, but I can’t see anyone we know acting that way.
It hardly feels fair to include myself as a member of the queer community when I can pass for straight so easily.
I know other people fight hard to gain access to things I have handed to me.
But I also know they put the letters Q and A in LGBTQIA+ for a reason, not to mention the plus sign. I guess I could be the reason?
“All I know is it’s pretty rare for me, but I do become attracted to people sometimes, especially after I spend a lot of time with someone and get to know them well.”
Like now. The way I keep having to stop my eyes from glancing down her shirt. The way my mouth waters when she raises her arms to fix her ponytail and her flowery scent drifts over to me.
Plus, I do like sex. It’s just usually pretty low on my priority list.
“So, you’re demi?” Shelley’s voice pulls me out of my thoughts. “Sorry if it’s insensitive to ask, but I’ve read about that. It comes up a lot in my research when I’m trying to sort out my own stuff. Not to make it about me.”
“You’re fine. And to answer your question, I think so. Or something close. I think if I felt that spark more often, I might be pan. But I rarely feel it, so I guess that makes me demi?”
The definition seems to fit. Demisexuality is when you need an emotional connection with someone before you develop a sexual attraction to them.
The demi label seems closest to how I feel, but there’s so much controversy over whether or not it’s dismissive of people who are truly asexual that whenever I try to look it up I end up feeling bad about myself and giving up the search.
“I don’t know if I’ll ever find exactly the right label, and at this point in my life I don’t know if it really matters.
So, to answer your original question, I’ve seen porn, but I’m indifferent to it.
It’s no different to me than looking at a painting in a museum or looking at my own arm right now.
I only see bodies. I don’t get turned on by it. ”
Shelley nods along and squeezes my hand, encouraging me to tell her as much as I want.
I’ve never said any of this out loud to anyone, and it’s a little bit terrifying, but also a huge relief to finally be open about this part of myself.
I appreciate how she’s not talking too much or trying to rush me.
“I knew I was a little bit different when my friends started talking about stealing the lingerie catalogues out of neighborhood mailboxes the day they were delivered. I couldn’t understand the appeal.
I’ve never had a physical reaction to a picture or a video of a stranger.
But I do know when someone’s attractive,” I tell her.
“I have eyes. I know you’re hot, for example.
But with most people it’s similar to looking at a paint color or a piece of art and thinking ‘that looks nice.’ My thoughts rarely go beyond that unless I get to know someone really well.
When that happens, I get these intense crushes, and I start to catch feelings…
hard.” I don’t want to scare her off, but this isn’t something I can control, and it’s starting to happen with her.
“So, what I’m hearing is you think I’m hot?” she says, poking my calf with her toe.
“What happened to not making this about you?” I tease, making her laugh.
“Thank you for sharing that with me Jordan. Really. Although, I mean, it might be a little about me. We’ve gotten to know each other pretty well, and apparently you think I’m a total smoke show.” She winks as she embellishes. Little does she know, she’s not wrong.
“True.”
“And I know it’s not exactly the same, but if it helps, I feel very similarly about labeling my health issues. I wish I had an answer, but ultimately, I’m not sure getting that answer will change much about my situation anyway. So, I think I might get how you feel, at least a little.”
Is it warm in here? A bead of sweat trickles down my spine, and her eyes are fixed on my mouth as I lick my lower lip. I don’t think I can lie to myself anymore.
I like this woman. A lot.
But we can’t. Mike is truly a brother to me, and family is something I don’t take lightly. She bites her bottom lip and my body stirs. Shelley Miller is going to be the death of me, if her brother doesn’t kill me first.