Profiles of Courage: Local Prude Finds Acceptance in Demisexual Community
"Straight and boring is the new Queer"
OMAHA, NE— For most of her life, 27-year-old Emily Watkins knew she was different. Growing up in the Midwest, she felt a quiet shame watching her peers dive into one-night stands while she couldn’t summon the same enthusiasm for raw, anonymous sex.
“Ending a first date with a hug and an enthusiastic ‘This was fun’ always left me feeling broken,” Emily said, her voice cracking as she recalled painful college nights. “Every time I looked at my reflection in the mirror, I ended up asking myself, ‘Why can’t you be a slut like everyone else? Nobody understands how hard it is to be so disgustingly… normal.’”
It wasn’t until a close friend triumphantly declared herself pansexual, which she described as bisexual, "but with the added smugness of being able to look down at other bisexuals because you’d theoretically be attracted to a gender-fluid two-spirit,” that Emily asked the life-changing question: “What are you if you only have sex with someone you love?”
That’s when she discovered the demisexual community. According to the official definition, demisexuality is “a sexual orientation in which someone only feels sexual attraction after forming a strong emotional connection with another person.”
Or, as Emily puts it: “Basically, I’m just not a slut.”
Emily’s first demisexual meet-up was at the local IHOP right after Sunday church service. There she found people just like her: deeply committed, non-promiscuous folks ordering Rooty Tooty Fresh ’N Fruity breakfasts and reminding each other, “There’s nothing normal about being heteronormative.”
From there, other demisexuals showed her the ropes. "We even have our own Grindr app. It's called Bumble," said Emily, adding, "There's also Hinge, Match, eHarmony, Plenty of Fish, Facebook Dating, Christian Mingle, and J-Date. They all cater to our minority."
The demisexual pride flag struck her instantly. “Most flags look chaotic, but this one? It looks like two people having eye-contact missionary sex. The good kind. The normal kind. My kind.”
The demisexual community insists their identity is as integral to the LGBTQ movement as any other. “Demisexuals have been erased for too long. We were at Stonewall,” declared one organizer. “Just… don’t ask on which side.”
Not everyone is thrilled about their inclusion. “Every Pride season straight people sneak in through the back door, slap a new label on themselves, and act like they’ve suffered,” said one irritated bisexual activist. “It’s exhausting and leads to people questioning my inclusion. Just because I'm currently in a straight relationship doesn't erase the one time I drunkenly made out with another girl."
Historians note that demisexuals have long suffered in silence, often excluded from Pride festivities for the crime of being cisgender and in straight relationships. “Do you know how it feels to stand on the sidelines of a Pride parade holding hands with your husband, and have people assume you’re just a boring ally?” said Emily. “Even the unfuckable uggos get to call themselves ‘aromantic asexuals.’”
Now, Emily says, she’s finally found her tribe. At press time, she confirmed she would be marching in her first Pride parade with her husband under her new banner, carrying a sign that read: “My kink is emotional intimacy.”