My asexual partner and I found a sexual practice that works. Here, I describe it and share my reflections.  

My Partner is Asexual, but We Still Have Great Sex

, but I’m not. In the past it led to problems, but the more he comes to understand himself, the more he can share with me. This helps me accept him for who he is, rather than viewing his lack of desire as a problem in our relationship. Through this emotional work, we’ve been able to bridge the gap in our sexual needs and preferences, specifically by creating an intimacy ritual.

He sets the mood by darkening the space, illuminating only the Himalayan salt lamp and lighting a candle, which flickers softly against the ceiling and walls. Tonight, lightning fills the room from an approaching storm, adding some electricity. He lays cushions on the floor and covers them with blankets — fuzzy ones when it’s cold, and cool sheets when it’s warm. Tonight, it’s warm.

I tell him the kind of touch I want. Sometimes I’m specific, other times I just give a mood word and trust his interpretation — I might say, “soothing,” “sexy” or “playful.” Tonight, I say “mostly soothing, somewhat sexual, with a little bit of roughness mixed in.” This last request doesn’t come naturally to him, but he agrees to give it a try.

I inhale deeply and begin to drop into my body as he holds vanilla, lavender, citrus, and patchouli under my nose, one at a time. Sometimes this becomes a fuller ritual, with freshly-picked flowers and food from the yard and house, but tonight, we’re keeping it simple.

Then he strokes my skin with his fingers and palms, first working his way across the front of my body from my belly to my chest, to my pubis, thighs, legs, and feet. He soothes and wakes up my skin from head to toe, then switches to my back.

 my erogenous zones, but he doesn’t fixate on them either. I’ve been with enough men to know that it’s rare for these areas to not become the main attraction… often the 

attraction. I deeply appreciate that Drake helps me satisfy my skin hunger.

He can generally read my subtle movements and 

 — my moans and sighs — and each time we are together, he learns my body even better. But if he misses or misinterprets something, I simply tell him. “That feels good,” or “more right there,” or “Yes…” It’s not so different from “regular” sex, in that sense.

We finish the practice in various ways. Sometimes, if I’m not feeling sexual energy, he’ll simply stroke my body for a while, stopping when it feels right. There doesn’t have to be an orgasm for us to enjoy a loving physical connection.

He knows better than anyone I’ve ever been with how to make me orgasm with just his touch. He knows I like it soft at first, and he knows when to intensify the pressure.

He used to think it meant I wanted him to focus there, but now he knows I’d rather he just tease me more, so he’ll pull away a bit, making me reach.

 "There doesn’t have to be an orgasm for us to enjoy a loving physical connection."

Though it’s a dance all the while, this is the moment I feel us clicking together. I’ll gyrate my hips slowly and he’ll add pressure with the vibrator, then suddenly pull it away. He’ll slide it in and out in between my legs. I’ll moan gently as the pleasure from all over my body now intensifies into that one tiny organ, my clitoris.

As the orgasm builds slowly, steadily, I hear his voice:

 And for just that moment, I feel him turned on, tuned in, and 

You see, my partner is asexual… graysexual to be specific.

Although my lover provides the pleasure I crave, I don’t always know how to give it back. As a graysexual, Drake doesn’t crave sexual pleasure, and as an allosexual, I still can’t wrap my mind around anything else even coming close.

 or “gray ace”  as its also known, “is a very subjective topic based on personal interpretation of intrinsic feelings and experiences, but the common ground is usually that people in the gray area have had some semblance of sexuality that’s far lower than almost all other people who identify as sexual.”

Dating and having sex with other people has had an interesting impact on our sex life together. For a while, things intensified. His sexuality piqued from the newness of hearing about my encounters. Then it settled down again as my other relationships became more established in their own right, not just sexy encounters to share with him.

For a couple of years, we didn’t have sex at all. I was sad at the time, but this was also around when he first learned the term “graysexual” and started identifying with it. I did my best to understand and be accepting.

Recently though, he’s begun to date someone new. Because there’s newness with this person, sex comes easier for them. As much progress as I felt I made understanding and accepting him as graysexual, the fact he started having sex with someone else and not me felt like a slap in the face at first. To be honest, it still sometimes does. But those tough feelings motivated me to express my desire again.

"...each time we're together, he learns my body even better."

By then, I had a deeper understanding of his sexual identity, and knew I had to communicate my desires more bluntly. I no longer expected him to read my subtle signs and respond to them the way an allosexual person might.

Our current method of having sex started from a therapeutic intervention called “Sensate Focus.” According to the 

, “Sensate focus is a technique used to improve intimacy and communication between partners around sex, reduce sexual performance anxiety, and shift away from ingrained, goal-oriented sexual patterns that may not be serving a couple.”

For a while, we followed the practice to the letter, but since then we’ve taken it and run with it, transforming it into something more playful and creative, and all our own. Although Sensate Focus generally puts the power of choice in the giver’s hands, we have shifted things so that the receiver can make requests from the giver too, and we often include toys, scents, and other fun things.

 and transformational for me, and for our relationship. It gives me the chance to exercise the skill of asking for what I want within the safe and loving space of our long-term relationship. I’ve found that my other relationships benefit from the self-awareness I’m developing, too. On Drake’s end, he’s now able to ask for touch that feels good to him without feeling pressured to make things about sex.

Do I still sometimes wish my life partner was more sexual? Yes. Do I still sometimes get jealous of his newer relationship where it seems like sex comes more easily? Absolutely. But this ritualized practice gives us a foundation from which we can play and grow. And most importantly, It’s a way for us to connect in a way that respects and helps fulfill our different sexualities.