Before I went to Care's house the next morning for an emergency game of Scrabble, I reviewed Eric's attachment on the types of attraction. Only in Mr. Romano's philosophy class had I pondered the concept of love but not enough to understand it in detail.

As I pored over each section, I tried to relate it to my own life in the hopes of demystifying how the forms differed from one another.

Level 0 – Platonic attraction: You have a strong urge to be friends, hang out, etc.

Platonic attraction made perfect sense to me. I'd never want to be anything more than friends with Care, for example. Of course, we shared a deep-seated friendship, the closest either of us would come to having a sister. My best friend in the world, really. But I could never fathom anything romantic happening between us.

Level 1 – Aesthetic attraction: You want to look at someone because of their appearance or mannerisms.

How often had I watched guys like Jack the Jock or Bryan Delacourt at school rallies? Their chiseled beauty often gave me the warm fuzzies. Even I went 'hot damn' at a nice pair of sculpted arms.

But that longing, admiration, or giddiness had never developed into any X-rated fantasies. Their physical traits appealed to me. Eye candy of the finest quality.

Level 2 – Emotional attraction: You enjoy and/or long for someone's presence because of their personality or mannerisms. You might feel a kind of 'tug' or 'pull' that some describe as 'magnetism'. Certain traits or common interests might draw you towards that person.

Yes! That was exactly how I felt with Eric!

In French class, a powerful force drew me to him, one I couldn't explain. His quiet strength. That quirk of his eyebrow. His intellect. Our love of fantasy and sci-fi. Exactly, it was like magnetism!

Confusingly, it also described my strong sisterly feelings towards Care. Her bubbly effervescence could pull me out of any funk. We could watch sci-fi movies all day long and talk about the mysteries of the universe until the middle of the night. Whenever I felt sad, she could cheer me up. Almost every weekend we hung out or talked on the phone.

The two kinds of magnetism I experienced with Care and Eric weren't the same, though. Care drew me in because of her personality and mutual interests. She got me in a way no one else could, except possibly Grandad.

Whereas with Eric...

You want to date him, said my conscience in Eric's deep baritone. Admit it. You want a relationship.

Level 3 – Sensual attraction: You want to have non-genital physical contact; here there are two forms/levels—platonic or romantic.

Sensual attraction remained an irritating mystery to me. A bit of a sore spot. I'd always felt touch averse with most people, even close friends or family members. I couldn't even hug Care without overthinking it.

Perhaps I spent too much time in my head to really appreciate the physical nature of things. My body felt like an appendage rather than a part of me, a tool to interact with the world. But my essence never felt physical. It was conceptual. My brain had created a cerebral dream world in which my soul existed, a complex fabric woven from thoughts and feelings.

For years, my family had tried to socialize me to enjoy hugs or snuggles, but I was never that kid. It didn't mean that I loved my family any less. I just didn't express my affection or appreciation through touch.

Perhaps one day I could condition myself to think in those terms, but it would take a lot of effort on my part and a lot of patience from a potential partner. Could Eric tolerate my weirdness?

Level 4 – Romantic attraction: This can manifest as soft/warm/fuzzy feelings and/or a sense of fixation or admiration. You may have a physiological reaction, like butterflies, increased heart rate, dreaminess, euphoria, and/or infatuation. Even if attraction doesn't manifest that way, you may have a strong desire for at least one of the following: emotional, mental, physical, or (if applicable) spiritual closeness/bonding.

That was the difference between my relationship with Eric and Care. My sisterly bond with her had become stronger than family. Stronger than friends. But I never desired any kind of romantic attachment with her.

Nor did she.

Eric, on the other hand, well...I'd dreamed of a romantic relationship with him more than once over the past year.

Reciprocated romantic attraction without sex—that remained my elusive Holy Grail. All through high school, I'd longed for a connection and belonging that didn't rely on a physical component.

It had to satisfy both parties, though. Not just me. Otherwise, I was just being selfish.

If I was indeed asexual like Eric, could we find it together?

IMPORTANT: Levels zero to four, while they may indicate a strong sense of intimacy, do not necessitate sexual attraction. Asexuals can and often do experience ANY or ALL of these levels to some degree.

It is also interesting to note that some sexuals are aromantic (i.e. uninterested in romance).

The last two passages made me choke on my Diet Coke. I read it and re-read it to make sure I hadn't misunderstood.

What?! Hold the phone!

Do you mean to tell me that I can experience all that—levels zero to four—and still be asexual?

No way...

What the hell did sexual attraction mean then? When people said a guy or a girl was hot or attractive, didn't they mean aesthetic attraction?

Thank you, dear sexually repressed family. I'm both naïve and clueless.

If sexuality could exist without romance for some people, though, that gave me hope. For the converse meant romance could also exist without sexuality for others. Completely different outlooks on two ends of the romance spectrum.

But if levels zero to four didn't imply sexual attraction, what did?

Level 5 – Sexual attraction: A desire to have sexual contact or intercourse with a particular person; if you do not experience this emotion with anyone, you may be an asexual.

IMPORTANT: Sexual attraction has nothing to do with whether or not you have sex. You can be sexual and celibate or asexual and sexually active.

Had I been wrong all this time? Was that why high school students needed instant access to birth control? Did they truly experience a driving need to engage in sex?

All this time, my definition of attraction had differed from everyone else's. Only now, thanks to Eric's email, did I finally begin to understand.

When I felt emotional and romantic attraction with Eric, I'd thought it was sexual attraction. All those times I had a crush on eye candy, it was aesthetic attraction.

All my fantasies involved platonic, emotional, sensual, or romantic displays of affection with Eric, though. Not sexual ones.

Maybe even as his girlfriend one day. If he'd accept my crazy ass...

No matter how infatuated I'd become with him, my dreams had always ended before that final, crucial step. It'd never led to a desire for sex with Eric. Not in my craziest dreams.

And some were pretty damn crazy.

My heart grew heavy and light all at once.

That explained the disconnect I felt when the kids discussed their love lives. I always thought it was bravado, an exaggeration of the truth to get praise or admiration. Especially when a guy did it. That kind of grandstanding made me roll my eyes on the inside.

In my mind, sex served as a means to an end, not an end in itself. It would help to deepen a pre-existing bond. Friends with benefits and one-night stands made no sense to me whatsoever.

I chuckled. Why ditch all the good things about a relationship and keep all the boring ones?

Even though society taught us that genitals and erogenous zones were somehow 'special', to me they were no more or less fascinating than shoulders. In fact, I'd probably get more bonding out of a nice shoulder massage than repetitive bouncing on someone's rod.

Oh, shit! What does this mean?

While his email helped me so much, it also confused me even more.

Perhaps I was asexual.

Or maybe I was just plain weird.

My nerdiness could mean I'd always appreciate cerebral activities more than physical ones. That didn't necessarily mean I was asexual, did it? That meant I prioritized one aspect of my life over another.

Who are you trying to convince? asked my conscience using Eric's rich baritone.

I need to think about this some more, I retorted. Puzzle it out for myself.

***

After I'd walked over to Care's house, she set up the Scrabble table along with a rich buffet of snacks. Ever since I'd come alive from my weird depressive funk, my best friend kept trying to put some meat on my bones.

Literally.

Because of my dense frame, all my bones stuck out like I'd spent a few months at a labor camp. My body shape meant I'd never look petite and dainty. My body had three options: broad and muscular, broad and fat, or broad and emaciated. The stress had taken its toll, and my body refused to gain weight, happy to hover at one-ten with all my ribs sticking out like a cadaver.

After we'd set up the board and tiles, I scraped at my chapped bottom lip. "Hey, Care. Can we talk about something personal?"

This caught her attention. She dropped everything, including her pinch of popcorn, and nodded. "Yeah, sure. My grandparents won't be back for ages. What's on your mind?"

"You don't have to answer if you don't want," I said, still nibbling at my lip.

"Hey, I'm an open book."

"It's about..." I took a deep breath. "My sexuality."

Care nodded with a determined expression, which I interpreted as bracing herself for anything. "Okay, sure!" she said. "That's cool."

"Don't worry, I'm not coming onto you," I said with an awkward chuckle.

She breathed a sigh of relief. "Oh, good. I love you, but not like that."

I laughed, and she did as well. "Nah! You're my sis, Care."

Reaching across the table, she took my hand and gave me a reassuring squeeze. The one kind of touch that made me feel comfortable, unlike hugging. I returned the kind gesture and cleared my throat. My poor lip kept taking a battering until I tasted a hint of iron.

"Eric sent me an email," I said.

Her eyes brightened like twin stars. "Oh, yay! What did he say?"

"It was a serious email," I replied. "One in which he talked about the different kinds of attraction."

"Oh, yeah. Eric's talked about that with me a lot."

I furrowed my brow. "He has?"

"Don't worry," she said. "I asked him about asexuality out of intellectual curiosity. I told you: I don't go after my best friend's man."

"So you know all about it?"

"Yeah, we discussed it at length," she said. "Mostly because I wasn't sure if I was ace or not."

"Ace?"

"Asexual," she replied.

"Oh!"

"I'm pretty sure I'm somewhere in between the two," she said. "Like not totally sexual or totally ace. I might like sex with this one guy I like. Maybe. Don't think or care about it otherwise."

Realizing that Care was so open about asexuality--and more importantly, talking about it--helped me to relax a bit. I took a deep breath and a huge gulp of Diet Coke.

"Ask me anything," she said. "Really, I don't mind."

"I don't understand sexual attraction," I said. "I mean I thought I did, but it turns out my attraction to guys isn't sexual at all. At least, I don't think so."

"Maybe you need to get to know a guy better first?" she suggested, tapping her lips with the pencil she used to keep track of our Scrabble score. "Like those feelings might not come right away? They don't for me, anyway."

"What does sexual attraction--I don't know--feel like?"

"It's different for everyone, I expect." Care exhaled slowly and leaned back in her chair. "To be honest, I still don't know how to define my feelings."

"Right? Me either."

Maybe I'm not asexual after all, I thought with a sigh of relief.

"But I think I feel sexual attraction."

"How do you know?"

"Is it okay if I'm a bit TMI?" she asked under her breath.

I nodded.

"There's this cute guy at church and we had this amazing discussion," she said, her eyes twinkling as she placed a bingo on the board, using all seven letters. "Ha! I did it!"

"Congrats, Care!" Her triumph allowed me to make multiple words scoring over forty points. Worth it! "So tell me about this guy."

"Chris wasn't like other guys. He's super smart like Eric but also super hot. No offense."

"None taken," I said with a smile. "He sounds amazing."

She nodded. "So I joined the Catholic Youth Council so that I had an excuse to see Chris all the time." She giggled. "We'd have these deep and meaningful conversations. Away from the others. The kind that sets your synapses on fire. Whenever he would look at me--just oh, my God!"

We both squeed together.

"I know what you mean! Like Eric and me!"

"Anyway, after a few months, being near Chris would make me..." She flushed a shocking shade of pink. "You know, all excited and stuff. So..."

My heart started thudding from vicarious excitement.

"At night," she said in a suspenseful tone, "when I knew no one would walk in on me, I'd think of him and--"

She trailed off. I waited for her to finish her sentence, genuinely unsure of what she meant. Yeah, I was pretty damn naïve. When she turned bright red, I furrowed my brow.

"And...what?"

"You know..." She instinctively looked around her before whispering, "Go to town."

"Town?"

"Downstairs?"

Suddenly, it hit me. "Oh! Ohhhh!"

She giggled. "Told ya it was TMI."

"No, that's fine," I said, waving a dismissive hand before a wave of guilt washed over me. "So, is it normal not to--?"

"Not to what?"

"You know, go to...town?"

Her eyes widened in surprise. "You never have?"

"Nope.

"Not even once?"

Using a triple word score, I made over fifty points with my Q. "I touched myself down there and stared at all the different parts. Mostly out of curiosity. You know...like once we had sex ed and learned what everything did."

She nodded.

"It didn't...do anything for me, though." I blushed. "Since the Catholic Church says not to touch yourself, I didn't bother because there was no point if it didn't do anything."

"But what about Eric?" she asked. "Don't you ever think of him...like that? Like touching you and stuff?" She blushed. "If you don't mind me asking, that is."

"I daydream about him all the damn time," I said, stifling a giggle, "especially now that we're talking again. But I never daydream about sex or him touching me down there."

"Yeah, I get it." She shrugged. "I often daydream about Chris holding me or spooning me. Like cradling me in bed? But not sex."

"Maybe I'm just not ready yet?" I mused aloud before I gasped in dismay. "Maybe I don't like Eric enough to feel what I should feel?"

"I don't think it's a case of not being ready," she said, pinching her forehead in concentration. "I don't think I could ever want sex with a guy I don't know really well. Like ever. It's a preference."

"What does that mean, Care?" I asked, flustered. "If I am...you know...ace? The Church makes you promise three things to your spouse."

She nodded. "Monogamy, loyalty to the church, and an openness to children."

"What if I don't want sex or children?" I asked in a panic. "Does that mean I can never get married in the Catholic Church?"

"If you and your man are on the same page, why not?"

"Yeah, he might be now," I insisted. "What if he changes his mind?"

"First, if he is asexual, it's not going to suddenly change orientation."

"How do you know?"

"Well, think of it like this," she replied. "A gay guy doesn't wake up one morning and go Holy moly I'm straight, does he?"

I chuckled. "Care, stop it!"

"I'm serious!" She grinned as she squeezed fifty-two points out of two letters. "Sure, sexuality is a spectrum. You and Eric might wake up horny and curious one day and give sex a try."

My cheeks flushed bright pink like hers. Taking advantage of the triple word score, I made a bingo. Care cursed under her breath and congratulated me.

"But that doesn't mean Eric's going to be like..." She lowered her voice an octave and made an impression of a young John Travolta. "Hey, babe! Now we gotta boink every five seconds."

"If he said those words in that voice," I retorted, "call the men in the white coats!"

"Right?" Care giggled. "One day, you might want to try sex. Or you might never try sex. Either way is okay. Still doesn't mean you feel sexual attraction."

"What if I'm the only weirdo on this planet who doesn't want sex? Like ever?"

"If you were the only one, asexuality wouldn't be a thing," said Care with a heavy sigh. "Not feeling sexual attraction doesn't prevent you from having sex. It's your decision."

I held my head in my hands. "I'm so damned confused."

"Hey, I have an idea. After this game, let's do a bit of research."

"Research?"

"Putting a rational spin on things can help me gain perspective." She shrugged. "Might help you too. You know? To see what experts say or read other people's thoughts and feelings."

"The Internet sucks for that kind of thing."

"You need to give it a chance," she insisted. "You can't just search once or twice and give up. You have to keep typing different keywords until you get a sensible answer."

"Maybe."

Care had made the right call. Armed with my research and hours of debate, I began to figure out what sexual attraction meant, which stirred the creative juices for my next blog.