It is not an understatement for me to say that I went into Thaw with huge, huge hopes...there just are no words for how it feels to find a character in a book who feels exactly the same way you do about something people rarely, if ever, talk about. With passages like these:

It wasn’t that she hated the idea of sex, just . . . she didn’t want it. Didn’t need it. But no one else ever seemed to feel that way; in high school, college, and even now in the break room at work, where some of the part-time ladies would talk about their husbands or dates during lunch, sex was always the focus of every relationship.  

...in front of her. Still, the thought of having someone to spend time with, to talk to, maybe to hold while she slept? It sounded romantic. Perfect. Why was it so difficult for others to contemplate a relationship built on mutual affection, on romantic gestures that didn’t extend into the bedroom? Abby wanted roses and inside jokes, something easy and natural. Sex was a complication she didn’t have any interest in.

Abby knew what people had said about her in the past: that she was frigid, weird, broken. That not wanting to have sex made her somehow less than human. And despite that, she’d accepted her asexuality for what it was, never mourned the loss of something she didn’t want in the first place.

There are more like this and the story itself is extremely sincere and moving and is everything I had hoped it would be with a beautiful friendship/romance being more than enough for both women. I can honestly say I have never read anything like this before; it almost feels like I dreamed it, but in a good way. 

I am far more practical than I used to be, but, sometimes, I still like to believe that somewhere out there a person exists, for each and every one of us, who would understand just what you are feeling and would befriend you no matter how freakish or out of touch with the rest of the world you are...one of my favorite songs from the lovely movie "An American Tail."

I am so excited (cautiously so) about this book coming out next Tuesday...it features a main character who is a lesbian AND asexual and, well, lesbian asexuals are just not very often a part of fiction...or ever really even mentioned in the real world. 

We do exist, even if it seems no one knows what to make of us, and though we can be deeply romantic at heart and full of rich emotions we just do not feel sexual stirrings the way other people can. I probably should not use the word "we" since I cannot speak for every lesbian who identifies as asexual, but I do know that I am not alone in this and it is so very nice to see it reflected elsewhere.

Here's the description for the book from Amazon:

Pop star Leontyne Blake might sing about love, but she stopped believing in it a long time ago. What women want is her image, not the real her. When her father has a stroke, she flees the spotlight and returns to her tiny Missouri hometown.

In her childhood home, she meets small-town nurse Holly Drummond, who isn’t impressed by Leo’s fame at all. That isn’t the only thing that makes Holly different from other women. She’s also asexual. For her, dating is a minefield of expectations that she has decided to avoid.

Can the tentative friendship between a burned-out pop star and a woman not interested in sex develop into something more despite their diverse expectations?

A lesbian romance about seeking the perfect rhythm between two very different people—and finding happiness where they least expect it.

....

Just after I saw the above, I discovered another book with a similar theme and downloaded it right away and started reading...and, well, all I can say is: wow! 

Feeling that you are asexual in addition to being gay is like a double-edged sword and within the lesbian community (it seems to me, at least) there is almost an ambivalence towards people who are asexual. For me, finding this book (and anticipating the one above) is a Godsend...there are no words for it, really. 

To be strongly emotionally and romantically attracted to someone of your own gender is already considered (even now in 2017) pretty controversial (and often also still referred to as "sinful") so there is already that to deal with as a huge and painful struggle. 

You would think a person not being sexually driven or having a strong sex drive would be a good thing not something to be dismissed with disdain, yet it can be and, thus, it throws things into even further disarray. Books that speak to you when you are desperate to find another soul (even if that soul is fictional) that understands what you are going through and where you are emotionally is simply amazing.

I think about how different my feelings for X are than for anyone else I have ever had feelings for before…and they are radically different, in both good ways and bad.

X is, without a doubt, the most professional and composed person I have ever had feelings for, so much my polar opposite it goes beyond cliché. She is everything I am not and I am sure this is a huge contributing factor to my strong feelings for her. Anything or anyone that is not me is good and good to be around.

Never before have I had feelings for someone I am also afraid of…not in the sense of fear, but in the sense of awe and in the absolute conviction I am going to mess things up when in her presence (which has, indeed, happened many a time and most recently culminating in things that just cannot be reversed)

It is true that I find her very attractive, but the part of me that finds her very attractive is not an active part of me and never has been, if that makes sense. I like X in a very deep and emotionally resounding way, but the part of me that finds her beautiful is able to temper that side. I am no more sexual (or even sexual in thinking) than I am beautiful or socially adept or capable of having a meaningful, blush-free conversation with her. "Ex gay therapists" (many of whom believe being gay is some kind of arrested development) would find it fitting that I feel like a child in those matters of life.

That is why this is all a complete mystery to me, that five years later my feelings still have not gone away. It is futile and (no matter that I have never said a word or knowingly done anything to give myself away in how I feel about her) so very unprofessional. And yet, just as I cannot pray away my gay, I cannot pray away my feelings for her…maybe precisely because they are not wanton or wrong feelings, but very heartfelt and genuine ones of caring and respect.