She was slim, with a perfect blond bob I could never achieve and a minimalistic style so effortless that it seemed to be a part of her being. She was quiet, and I hardly ever spoke to her, but her participation in class seemed to be well-informed and confident. Her existence was this beautiful thing, and I wanted to simultaneously be her and be with her. I didn’t realize the crush on her in high school was an actual romantic crush until a couple of years later, when I saw her pass by outside my job as a receptionist. My heart jumped, resparking this low-burning attraction I had to this amazing person.

This, compounded with other moments of suspicion, was when I realized I wasn’t heterosexual. I first identified as bisexual, but as I began to learn more about the spectrum of gender, I realized that I wasn’t attracted only to individuals within the binary. When I discovered the term “pansexual,” it was a far more fitting term to describe me — there were plenty of well-dressed people at my school, but the quiet confidence of this girl was incorporated into my crush, which wouldn’t have existed without this attraction to her personality.

Pansexuality, or the attraction to all genders, exists within the realm of bisexuality. While pansexuality is often conceived as being the same as bisexuality, the difference is that bisexuality seems to adhere to the gender binary, while pansexuality does not. But the definite meaning of bisexuality is debated because it can include a “two-or-more” perspective.

The nice thing about sexual identities is that they can be more fluid than the terms we use to define them. The problem comes when people understand others only within their own realities and don’t accept outside perspectives on how sexuality functions.

One evening, my friend (who happens to be a lesbian) and I were drinking, casually hanging out. Some of her friends joined us, and soon, our conversation wandered to my sexuality. “What does pansexual even mean? I mean, that sounds like shit off Tumblr.” They laughed. I was surprised that someone who also had a minority sexuality could be so closed-minded.

Sexuality is hard to comprehend — for individuals and society as a whole. There are so many labels for different sexualities, but they exist so that people have the language to describe all the important and obscure parts of their identities. Tumblr gets a bad rap for the seemingly hypersensitive nature of its users, but it is because of this sensitivity that a place of discovery and discussion of what sexual identities can be created. Sexual identity is not static, and I never know if I will ever be able to understand something that seems so essential to my existence. People shouldn’t have to explain themselves or watch while the validity of their sexualities is dissected.

Recently, my close friend, who identifies as asexual, joined Tinder. She stated that clearly on her profile so that people would know what she wanted out of a relationship. A man she matched with proceeded to bombard her with messages about how asexuality isn’t real and to accuse her of doing it for attention. The burden was on her to prove that her sexuality was authentic and that it wasn’t just a tactic to make her seem special.

I also identify as demisexual. In its traditional meaning, demisexuality is understood as feeling attraction only to someone with whom one has a strong emotional connection. In my version, I can’t be attracted to people without knowing their personality. The difference in my process is that I don’t necessarily have to be emotionally committed, but understanding and liking the person’s personality are the only ways I can feel sexual attraction. My physical attractions to strangers are purely aesthetic gratifications, not sexual ones. It would be great and convenient if I could just casually have sex with someone when I was craving sex, but I’m just not interested, even when I try to convince myself otherwise.

Sexual identities aren’t something we should have to prove to one another. Because we all come from different perspectives of identity, it is important to respect one another’s differences that might be hard to understand.

Taylor Romine writes the Tuesday column on sex. Contact her at [email protected].