imagine that you live in a world where, until you reach the age of sixteen, the food orzo is forbidden.
you've heard about orzo. how could you not? it's everywhere, because it seems like everybody loves orzo. orzo this, orzo that. for your whole life, you've heard about the glory of orzo. most people you know can't wait to try it. they talk about it all the time.
you, though, you've never had the overwhelming urge to eat orzo, not like it seems your peers do. still, you go along with it, because everybody else loves orzo and can't wait to try it.
eventually, you ask your dad whether he's always liked orzo. "yes," he says, "of course. you might not like it now, but you'll love it when you're older." he then shows you how to make orzo, even though you're not at all curious.
your peers have begun to try orzo. they all give glowing reviews. but despite their enthusiasm, it still seems kind of odd to you. why is everyone so worked up over orzo? what makes it so great?
life goes on. maybe you tried orzo. maybe you didn't. either way, you've decided it's not your thing. the only problem? no one else gets it. they all say, "what do you mean you don't like orzo? everybody likes orzo. maybe you just haven't found the right recipe yet." but you know that you don't like orzo. you probably never will. and everyone else thinks you strange for this.
this is what it's like to be asexual in this environment.
if you try to tell me my sexuality doesn't exist, i will throw you off a bridge. thank you for your time.
