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Starting in my preteen years, I found a lot of things very confusing. (No, but I didn't yet know that atheism was a valid option, so I struggled internally with this question a bit, confused at the concept of having faith and avoiding admitting my actual lack of belief).
Was my mother’s parenting style harmful enough to count as abuse? In fact, when I turned eighteen I cut off all contact with her, to protect my own mental health and possibly also physical safety. And then, there was that broad subject of human sexuality. Continuing well into my teenage years, I abstractly questioned what emotions and thoughts were supposed to arise when I looked at someone that had captivated me.
It started with my insidious small-town public-school health classes.
There, I’d had the woefully inadequate type of sexual education where one learns all the reasons abstinence is ideal and then learns, much later, from a pop song’s lyrics or a television show's jokes, more details about what sex entails.
Deep down, I stopped feeling merely curious to understand in the abstract, and started feeling like my whole self was .
My boyfriend had been incredulous to learn that I'd never masturbated; it wasn't conceivable to him that a person might not have the ability to get aroused, to orgasm.
It wasn't merely that I had never felt a strong urge to “get off”—I physically cannot get aroused.
The simple truth was that I did not intuitively know the answers, despite the fact that everyone around me seemed to possess such intuition.
When I set off on a quest of understanding, no one warned me what I might uncover: that the equation had never even accounted for a person like me existing.