|6th grade school picture|
A boy in fourth grade tried to woo me with handwritten notes, gifts, and even an invitation to go on a "date" at McDonald's. Luckily, my mom put a stop to that, with a firm, "Tonia, you are nine years old." I remembered liking the gifts, and the attention, but it never moved beyond that stage. In fact, I don't remember myself and this boy ever actually speaking to one another, much less sharing an innocent first kiss.
By my senior year in high school, I did notice some of the football players, but only because that's what everyone else was doing, and what I thought I should be doing, too.
Now, in my 30's, I have still never been kissed, in the romantic sense. Honestly, I don't care to be. It took me years to realize that there was a term for what I grew up feeling and what I still feel: asexuality. I haven't talked about it around here because it's very new to me, and also because it's a common stereotype about disabled people. There's this belief that all disabled people are not sexual. Let me be clear: most of my disabled friends are into dating and romance and all of that. One's dating. Another's engaged to be married.
I understand that there is not necessarily a sexual connotation to kissing, but having grown up with it going hand in hand with other things that I have no interest in, it's no wonder that I also feel I'm not missing out on anything, having never been kissed.
Tara and me, around age 2, in slides taken by our great grandpa