Red Flags: (A)sexuality & Respect
- SJ Williamson
- Dec 30, 2024
- 6 min read
Updated: Jul 27, 2025
As the year comes to a close, I'll be doing a short blog series on red flags I've encountered in the past and what to avoid in the future. This is the fourth and final post of that series: (a)sexuality & respect.
Today is the last week I'll be dedicating a blog post to the theme of red flags from the past to avoid in the future. This week is a particularly difficult subject for me, so I hope I do justice in explaining how this kind of red flag becomes apparent and why it is such a red flag. For some background, my post on tracing gender might be a good reminder: https://sjwill.wixsite.com/sjwill/post/tracing-gender
Defining Identity
I identify as asexual and demiromatic. I define asexuality as lacking sexual attraction. Sexuality exists on a spectrum (visual of the spectrum can be found here), ranging from asexual (no sexual attraction) to allosexual (experiencing sexual attraction). On the spectrum, I am on the far end. People's sexual preferences exist on another spectrum (there's an interesting chart of the spectrum here), ranging from sex-adverse (being repulsed by sex or sexual activities) to sex-positive (having a positive relationship with sex, usually leading to seeking out sexual activity). On this spectrum, I am a bit more on the sex-repulsed end, but consider myself closer to the middle, a sex-neutral position (if you like sex, good for you, but I am uninterested in it and a bit disgusted by it). I use sexual organs mostly for jokes rather than interest in using bodies for sexual gratification.
I define demiromanticism as experiencing romantic attraction rarely, only if a strong emotional bond or friendship has been nurtured. Romanticism also exists on a spectrum, and since I was unable to find an illustration of the spectrum that I liked, I created my own below using the aromantic and demiromantic flags. The spectrum ranges from aromantic (not feeling romantic attraction at all) to alloromantic (experiencing romantic attraction regularly without especially specific criteria needed to feel such attraction). As a demiromantic, I am in the middle, where people can only experience romantic attraction under specific circumstances. For me, I have found it impossible to be romantically attracted to people unless I have an already close, positive bond with them. This might explain why all of my crushes and my romantic partners have been close friends and/or roommates. It also explains why I find online dating and dating apps extremely difficult to meet romantic partners on. Though I try my best, I just don't feel connected (or attracted) to strangers. This has made me wonder if someone like me would be successful in something like the experiments on the show Love is Blind, where contestants spend long amounts of time getting to know each other before proposing and seeing each other in person.

Why?
I'm sure the fact that I had to use 2 paragraphs and multiple sources and images to explain sexual and romantic identity as best as I could illustrates how complex these identities are and can be. That's partially why it often takes so long for us outside of the norm to learn the right terms to explain how we feel and find labels that describe us well enough. I didn't know about these terms until early adulthood, in the middle of my first ever romantic relationship. Once I finally did the research and talked to others about their experiences, I realized my asexuality and demiromanticism in my mid-twenties.
The first person I tried coming out to as asexual was my boyfriend. He didn't take the news well. He took it very personally, thinking I was telling him this because of his sexual performance, his body, or my own unrelated mental illnesses. When I tried explaining how these were all unrelated, he didn't listen. He didn't want to listen. I wouldn't come out again until I met someone at church who was openly asexual and aromantic; she became my first queer ace friend, and we bonded over meeting another Christian who felt camaraderie with the LGBT community. It wouldn't be until February 2021 when I finally went to an online Lutheran conference and felt I could be accepted in the Christian community for me to come out online and openly to friends and family.
While it can be difficult to navigate figuring out one's sexuality and romantic preferences during an already existing romantic relationship, it isn't impossible for the relationship to remain or become stronger afterwards. Unfortunately for me, this was not the case. My identity was denied by my boyfriend at the time. Along with that denial came violation of boundaries I drew because of how he viewed my identity after coming out. My feelings no longer felt valid; he would get what he wanted whether I wanted the same or not. This would be the biggest red flag for me, and when I would finally realize that this would not be a lifelong relationship.

Respect for (A)sexuality
Now that I know my identity, I am very open about it with friends and potential love interests of mine. The denial of my own valid feelings by my ex has taught me that the more open I am, the sooner I can figure out if the relationship is worth pursuing and if my feelings are to be respected or denied in a relationship. While I am open to dating people who are of different sexualities and romantic preferences, I also need my potential partner to be open to my own asexuality and romantic preferences. Respect for each other and the willingness to listen to each other goes both ways. While it would probably be best for me to end up with someone just like me, I find that highly unlikely due to how small of the aro/ace population, let alone the population of people I am romantically interested in, is (somewhere around 1 to 5 percent of the adult population).
Lack of respect for my identity led to lack of respect for personal boundaries and then lack of respect for me as a person altogether. It caused sexual and emotional abuse at the hands of someone I should have left way earlier, which caused something called CPTSD; this made dating afterwards extremely difficult for me in addition to my own dating preferences. It's why it took about 3 years for me to befriend someone and start dating them successfully. While I had many crushes and suitors beforehand, the red flags caused by boundary invasion led me to ghost or attempt to distance myself from them. After finding out some friends' romantic and sexual preferences, I knew we couldn't be together even if we both liked each other initially. It sucks, but it definitely saved time and heartbreak.
Red Flags
While I know emotional reactions to someone's coming out are often justified (it is natural to have feelings), my ex's actions after I came out and tried to assuage his fears and anxieties were unacceptable red flags. If I could go back, I would come out sooner and end the relationship sooner to save me the wasted time, energy, money, and effort. Maybe I could have avoided the situations that gave me CPTSD, too.
My advice for others is to research about yourself early on in adulthood, whether that be the sexuality spectrum, the romantic spectrum, neurodivergent identities, or other pieces of who you are that contribute to you as a whole. Know yourself early on, and recognize when you find yourself changing if you feel yourself starting to change. Be open about who you are, so you can attract the right people in your life and weed out the toxic people who don't respect or listen to you. It can save you a lot of pain later on. It can help you move forward as an adult breaking cycles of abuse and toxic behavior. It can help you avoid these red flags.
Thanks
Thanks for all my followers, friends, family, and co-workers who have followed me through these rather difficult blogs in the Red Flag series. As I continue to write this blog as it reaches its second year of my weekly blog posts, I hope to bring more attention to what upsets the father figures around us, but can help us move forward as individuals. Happy New Year!

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