One thing I’ve noticed, among other things, is that analogies for not wanting sex are usually geared toward a sex-indifferent perspective that’s simply an absence of desire, no strong feelings involved either way. Just “not feeling a particular need” for something, usually some kind of desert food. That can describe some people’s experiences, certainly, but those kinds of analogies don’t carry over well for explaining what it feels like to be sex-repulsed.
cw: body horror
Sometimes I think about how it’s like if you were born into a society where people were really into making physical contact with other people’s eyeballs, especially using their own eyeballs, but also sometimes using fingers or tongues. Not just eyelids or the eye area, mind you — the actual, wet, sensitive surface of the eyeball.
This is considered the most desirable form of interaction that you can have with another human being, the pinnacle of love, pleasure, and intimacy, but also something people love to do just for fun, and something that any healthy adult would always want more of. Everything from advertising to professional psychiatry to the majority of book/movie/TV plots presumes this. And you grow up knowing that there are people who want to touch your eyes in one way or another, and that one day, you’ll be expected to let them. Maybe for the person you’re romancing, or maybe at your friends’ urging you to “loosen up”, or maybe because your psych is trying to help you overcome your pathological reluctance. They all want you to let your eyes be touched by someone else’s eyes — not for a split second and then it’s over, but as part of a prolonged rubbing ritual that should go on for at least several minutes until both of you experience a serious muscle spasm. You’re supposed to love this.
And to you, it’s like… but it’s my eyes. That’s creepy and gross and would be overwhelming in the worst possible way. You feel sick thinking about it.
And no one, no one, no one understands.