Open letter from a teen asexual

 Dear B,

 

Hey, B. It's me. The girl in your class? Obviously, you know who I am. I know that you may not think much of me, but the fact that we laugh and joke around in the classes we have together is enough. You may think I'm a weirdo, and maybe you don't give me a passing thought except to wonder if I'm Michael Mcintyre's bastard lovechild or not - it doesn't matter.

 

You aren't the nicest of people. I know that.

You were half-assedly nasty to my friends and I, 2 or 3 years ago; and I've learnt from our little chats that you're kind of shallow, too. But do you know what? I don't think I'm that nice, either. And your bitchy act doesn't fool me, because of the way you treat me, the weirdo.

 

You accept my asexuality. You, B, who likes to use 'fag' and 'gay' as an insult and constantly make jokes about your intention to be a goldigger. You don't understand (or at least, you didn't), and I get that. But you're making an effort. You ask me questions, and you have discussions, and you don't make me feel embarrassed (apart from that one time you blurted it out to our IT teacher, but that's okay, too). You don't insinuate I'm broken, or that I'll change my mind, like G does. You ask me questions about attraction, sexual, romantic or otherwise, and you obviously don't think it's stupid that a teenage geek like me identifies with it. You accept that. 
(I was sort of scared of you the time you grabbed me in a bear hug and declared me 'your cute little geek', but it was the good kind of fear.)

 

And do you know what, B? You are awesome for that reason alone. Even your backhanded compliments make me smile, and I secretly look forward to our stupid chats. 

I can't wait to annoy you at Politics Class next year.

 

:)