Welcome to How I Do It, the series in which we give you a seven-day sneak peek into the sex life of a stranger.

This week, we hear from Callie*, a 30-year-old single blogger who lives in Herford.

Callie describes herself as a ‘heterosexual romantic asexual’, and says that she feels ‘a little bit disgusted’ by the idea of sex. As such, she’s a virgin, and plans on keeping it that way.

Asexuality is the lack of sexual attraction. It exists on a spectrum, and can be divided into sexual and romantic.

For example, you might identify as straight, and have romantic feelings towards someone, but just can’t connect with them sexually. Or, you could be aromantic, but still enjoy sex.

‘I’m happy for others who are enjoying a sexual lifestyle,’ Callie says. ‘But I’d like my sex life to be non-existent.

‘I would just prefer to be with someone without the pressure of having to be intimate.’

Monday

The start of a new week and the chance to get out there and meet new people. Yet, at 30, I’m not doing it to meet someone to have sex with. Sex doesn’t interest me in any way, shape or form, a fact that has led me to still being a virgin and happily so.

However, with all this in my mind, I have been thinking a lot about my sex life recently. Well the lack of it. This morning, I spent time wondering if it was the effects of having an eating disorder and body dysmorphia that made me not interested in the physical act. Or the fact that I’ve never actually been in a relationship and had that real fire in my pants feeling. I’ve even wondered if it’s because I don’t want kids.

Yet, at the heart of it all, it’s simply because I’m aromantic asexual. A status I’ve only recently come to understand, after years of confusion.

As a romantic asexual, I know I want to be with someone. I just don’t want to have sex with them. And in this day and age, why shouldn’t that be okay? Often you hear of people no longer having sex and being fine with it. Relationships become like a Will & Grace set up of best friends living together and not jumping each other’s bones. So why can’t I have a relationship like this too?

Witnessing the weekend rush of photos of friends on Instagram with their partners, while scrolling the morning away, I’m not immune to finding The One. I just don’t know where someone like me is in a world full of sex. It makes me feel like I’m in a limbo of forever being alone and seeking that soulmate I’ve always dreamed of.

Do you identify as being on the asexual spectrum? Share your experiences belowComment Now

Tuesday

Again, I didn’t have, nor did I want to have sex. It may seem boring to some to live this way but it’s not to me.

However, I want to try and seek out asexuals like myself to see if I can find someone to meet with this week.

While many dating apps and websites offer my sexual orientation as a choice to pick when signing up, there doesn’t actually seem to be an app dedicated to asexual people.

I find myself looking up how I can make an app or business to solve this issue. Seeking out a crowdfunding page, full of facts and figures oddly brings me more excitement than the actual prospect of meeting someone. Whoops!

Deciding to return to the task I originally intended on doing, I find that there are some amazing men in my area but they’re all seeking more. What happened to just cuddling or spending time getting to know one another? Why do I have to get a dick pic within the first five minutes of connecting with someone?

It seems at this point in my life, I may just end up having a relationship with an app technician who can build my new business idea.

Wednesday

Like many, I’m spending my Wednesday thinking about how perfect Conrad Fisher is. Turning to my screen, as the latest episode of The Summer I Turned Pretty starts, I think back to those nights I spent as a teenager reading the books and dreaming of a love story like that of my own.

Maybe that’s where my desire to find someone who wants to just be with me without being intimate comes from. This Disney-like teenage love affair that doesn’t involve jumping under the covers.

Don’t get me wrong, when I was younger and would see friends starting relationships and exploring their sexuality, I would get jealous. I was scared to be a virgin over the age of 18, so much so that a friend said if I hadn’t lost it by 21, she’d buy me a sex worker. I can confirm that I didn’t go down that route.

I do wonder where this fear went and the acceptance of being a virgin and not wanting to have sex started. Have I always been a romantic asexual? I think so.

Watching Belly ponder who to be with, I realise that I want to love myself first before I allow someone to love me. There are so many things higher up on my list than being intimate with someone.

I want to tackle my mental health. I want to travel the world. Move homes. Find the dream job. I want to meet someone who will be my best friend.

Thursday

Today, I don’t have sex, but I do read about it. My latest read was a bit spicier than the cover suggested. As the leading man caresses every part of his love interest’s body, I cringe all over. I don’t want to have these fantasies repeated on me. In fact, I want to skip these pages completely.

Pondering this feeling, I decided to speak to a friend about it. To me, sex is really disgusting. For years, we did it to reproduce. Now we do it to have fun and explore what we do and don’t want from a partner. And that is perfectly fine. You do you and I’ll do me. (Well, I won’t be doing me but you get the idea).

But when you really think about sex and actually break it down, it is all a bit weird. We are sticking one person’s body parts into another person’s, with the risks of infections and babies laid out before us. We are literally putting two body parts into each other. Something I have no interest in doing.

I’m not against people having sex. You could talk to me about anything and everything to do with it. My friends often do. Some even ask for advice from me on a topic that I have no experience of. I just don’t have any desire to personally have sex on a hay stack or in a cosy cottage covered in snow like the characters in my book.

Friday

The weekend has arrived. A time where many 30-year-olds will be planning the next few days of parties, hook ups and Sunday hangover cures. For me, I spend it sorting out what needs to be done around the house with my mum, before delving into the living rooms of those on Gogglebox.

Something I’ve noticed this past week is how happy I am to just be in the company of those I love. People who don’t expect anything from me. My virginity isn’t discussed. My romantic asexuality is accepted. The ability to just be me and to just be loved makes me feel happy and motivated to head into the next few days of cosy vibes.

Saturday

Forget sexy Saturdays, it’s all about the weekly food shop for me. A time where I normally go into the supermarket and a military operation like mind to get in and out. What I don’t expect is to see someone in the middle aisle.

As I reach the checkout, I smile at a gorgeous man, who shares a smile back. Whilst my pants aren’t tingling, the romantic bubbles in my stomach are fizzing up. Reaffirming my love of love. After helping an elderly couple in front of me, he smiles up at me again and I start to plan our futures. Sans sex.

Together, in my vivid imagination, we will build our dream home. Explore the world. Have a fabulous wedding in Dublin City Hall wearing Adidas tracksuits (don’t judge!). Yet, these all turn out to be dreams, as he moves on. I’m still making progress in maybe meeting the one who will accept me for me. And you never know, we may meet again on another weekly shopping trip.

Sunday:

I’ve pondered romantic asexuality more than I ever have while writing this diary, and I’ve realised that while I learn more about it, I’m happy being alone for now.

I’m happy and proud to be a virgin and to be the inexperienced sexual ear that my friends need.

When I set out on this diary, I must admit that after two days I wondered what on Earth I was going to write about. Yet, I think I’ve proven this week that being a romantic asexual virgin is perfectly okay. In fact, any sexual status is.

Right now, I’m ready to just see what happens. There are plenty of Ryan Gosling’s in this world, who may just be romantic asexual like me. I’ll just have to keep looking to find him.

Do you have a story to share?

Get in touch by emailing MetroLifestyleTeam@Metro.co.uk.

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