Demisexual Sapiophile

Sapiophile: One of my strongest sexual drivers is intelligence. I define intelligence in a lot of ways. I don’t need traditional book smarts, although I like it. I am attracted to minds that are bendy, hungry to learn, problem solve in an uncommon way. I lean toward demisexual also – meaning I appreciate high level emotional connection.

As I look across my most powerful connections, they all fall into this category – emotionally charged intellectual bonds. Fun, intense people, with old souls and calm loving hearts are my absolute kryptonite. Start any conversation with, “you know what I have been thinking about trying…” and I am all in.

Here is the trick. Those connections form deeply. They are a true test to the idea that I can be good to multiple people. They are not casual connections. They require attention and care, and with that investment comes huge risk.

Let’s just say, I am thankful that hearts are resilient muscles…

I love deeply.

I love freely.

This vulnerability kicks my ass regularly.

But, the bonds forged and rewards won in this particular path are so worth while. I have been seen for myself in a way that I have never had in my entire life. I strongly believe this is mostly about my knowing who I am combined with my willingness to own my own desires rather than living in a constant state of deferring to please others.

Find the labels that work for you. Shed the ones that others assign you. Feel free to make adjustments to definitions to reflect necessary nuance you feel in your soul. Allow yourself growth and change as labels do not have to be permanent. I am willing to do the work, open up my heart and my eyes, and allow myself to be happy. I am a demisexual sapiophile for as long as it resonates deeply.

Doors: Kintsugi

Aria Scarlette, 25 Sept 2019 

Kintsugi = “Golden Joinery” 

It is the Japanese artistic practice of repairing broken pottery with lacquer that is then coated in precious metal. The scars from being broken are then part of the history, and the piece is more beautiful from having endured. 


Today, I watched as a man’s last evidence disappeared from a chat feed, minute by minute. It was the record of a dark day filled with loss, desperation, and deep pain. That day was terrible, and reliving it in a fashion today was rawness renewed. 


Months back, I sent a message in response to a profile I saw. As a general rule, I never message men with no optional narrative information, but I sent him a message. He listed himself as bilingual, so maybe I thought he has learned and seen things. His listed height was tall, but I don’t care about that. In his photo, he was bearded, outside, and he wore sunglasses and a hat. He looked like the vast majority of men on the platform for discreet dating opportunities. He was nothing extraordinary, but I sent him a message, and he sent one back. 

We chatted about life goals, appreciation for jaded humor, and the desire to fuck standard filters that keep people from saying what is at the heart and soul of communication. He expressed dominant sexual preference, and I wanted him to show me everything he had. 

The first time we met, he wore a suit. I smelled him when he hugged me upon approaching the booth near the back of the diner. I watched the mischief in his eyes as he told stories. I saw the way he held his coffee cup with both hands like it would escape accidentally. He didn’t wear a wedding ring, but I knew I would ask later about that observed detail. We parted, and out in front of the diner in public sunshine, he kissed me. For all of the chat about dominance, force, demanding, and taking…the kiss was kind, gentle, quiet, shy, and gorgeous. He barely touched me, and I was hooked. He went one way, I went the other, and we both looked back to catch one more photo frame to remember. 

Then began the slow, alluring dance to find time and to align schedules. We met another few times in public, we met once in private, and then a few more times in public. We filled weeks with chat in between meetings. I will likely detail those meetings at some point, but they seem irrelevant now. Our shared connection and our sex were both crucial learning opportunities for me, but the enduring lesson came from actually breaking, gathering fragments, and carrying sharpness around in my bloody hands.  

There was the day that didn’t go as planned. He messaged from the darkness. I heard his pain the second it hit my phone. He felt lost, outside, and alone. He muttered suicide sounds, and I freaked. I fought in order to reach him, to hold him in the ways I could, to let him know he was important, and to remind him of perspective. I don’t know if I mattered, but he survived. He made choices that weren’t permanent in reaction to temporary situation. He survived, but I do not feel we survived. I rinsed bloody pieces in salty, endless tears, and I carry every part around, still, hoping that the history of us will be beauty again after the repair. 

Dick Pics

This is where I left off, from Thought Experiment: Round 1: “Dick pics – they are an odd method of saying HI.”

The last time I dated, there was no electronic component. I am sure it existed of course, I just didn’t know about it. The very first conversation I had on the dating platform went like this:

  • Dude: Hey sexy. Wanna chat on KIK?
  • Me: What is KIK?
  • Dude: LOL…messaging app. Find me there @USERNAME.
  • Me: (sigh, researches app, downloads app, makes profile and deals with notifications/settings/privacy concerns and then figures out how to find @USERNAME)
  • Me: (In brand new KIK) Hi! How are you? Am I in the right place?
  • Me: Ummmmmm, I don’t think we are in Kansas anymore….

So from there on, I learned to make small adjustment to my communication standard. I meet a man in main platform, I suggest the anonymous chatting app for the larger “get to know us” conversations, but the first message is “Hi, thanks for sending me a message, and I am happy to get to know you here…but if you send me a dick pic unsolicited, the conversation ends and I block you.”

If the response is something along the lines of “LOL, I never send dick pics,” then it is more likely we are a potential match. More often than not, the next exchange is a dick pic. I have found that a rule isn’t a rule unless broken and punished, so I fire back with a dick pic of my own that looks like antibiotics may be required and THEN I wish them peace on the journey and block them.

I have since learned to view the dick pic as something very different. Sometimes I feel pictures as an expression of mutual risk. For deeper connections, the pictures absolutely help fill in the space between meeting or across larger divides. Dick pics though, should never be used to say “hi.”

Welcome to dating in the current world. I have seen more dick in the last year than in my entire life combined previously. The majority of that was unsolicited.

I am a sapiophile. This label is one I came to in the last year as well. Next blog post on that world, because it is very true for me. I give zero fux about your photo…until I do. Once you are in my head, I know everything as a whole.

Do you know what you want?

This is where I left off, from Thought Experiment: Round 1: “Unknown intent – very few people know what they actually are seeking and not everyone who responds is actually prepared to have an affair.”

This is particularly evident with reading profiles. People provide info about interest sometimes, often profiles are completely blank out of either laziness or just complete lack of awareness. It is impossible for me to tell if I am into a person from their height, weight, age and photo. Wait, that is incorrect. I am completely disinterested in all people based on those factors.

Then there are the lies we tell. Here are some that I have heard:

  1. “I am looking for a best friend and confidante.” Followed closely by revealing no information at all without careful extraction with surgical tools and truth potions.
  2. “I am looking for someone to spoil with my attention.” Followed closely by no available time for attentions to be at spoiling levels.
  3. “I am open to multiple partners.” Followed closely by the double standard that men can have multiples but women cannot…or by wanting to be the “favorite” or jealousies get stupid.
  4. “I love smart women.” Followed closely by the dismissal of independent thought.
  5. “I am seeking long term friend with benefits.” Followed closely by not actually wanting friendship so much as benefits dispenser in a supersized manner and only on one sided needs schedule.
  6. “I don’t want to change my situation or yours.” Followed closely by the lazy guarding of privacy.

Awareness of ourselves and others is a skill we are grossly deficient in as a people. We don’t do that hard work, and yes, it is hard work.

When looking for partners, I demand that I do this work for myself, and I look for people who want to learn themselves and me. This means spotting the lies given to use to parrot to others, and it means being willing to risk the pain that comes from not spotting truths glaring. It also means being uncomfortable while we call each other on bullshit.

Know who you are. Know what you need and want. Know why. Then share it. These are my impossible standards. Who the fuck is still listening and ready to give some vulnerability a try for a change?

Numbers Game

This is where I left off, from Thought Experiment: Round 1: “Numbers game – there are WAY more men than women on sights for discreet affairs, and most female profiles are bots or scams for money.”

Growing up, I was always taught that I was in major competition for men. There are more women than men in the world. There are some men we don’t want, therefore, for the ones we do want, the competition is extreme. Keep yourself put together, but don’t be conceited. Be physical, but not a tease and not slutty. Be strong, but make sure your man is stronger. Be smart, but your opinion and thoughts are shadows to the wills of men. This sounds absurd of course, but it is very real.

In this arena, the news is very different. There are so few actual women on sites for discrete encounters outside of marriage that the power is shifted. For the first time in my life, men compete for me.

They have to accept my poly tendencies and my path to understanding that within myself. They have to accept my intelligence and my demands for emotional awareness on their part. They have to be about more than sportsball and hunting….though I accept lovers of both sportsball and hunting. They must be funny and enjoy laughing. They must be communicative. They must see and accept me.

Then it hits me. The numbers are just a game.

We must always be real, and we must always demand the things we need in order to pair meaningfully. We must stop the game cold. We must be aware, honest, and communicate who we are to others. We cannot win while playing a game.

Welcome to my awakening…It happens in stages and it is constant.

Making a profile

This is where I left off, in the last post: “Profile writing – almost nobody reads what is written, most look at age/height/weight/picture, maybe even a few just see gender and don’t care past pussy”

When I started writing a profile, I thought about who I was and what I had to offer another person. This was stupid. I was not looking to market myself, but this was default programming at work. I needed to be something that is seen as special. I should have said what my partners would need. People should have read it.

What I should have written: I am smart, creative, emotionally aware, and deeply fun. I seek to practice radically open, clear communication as a standard. This means I want partners who are intelligent, emotionally deep, and willing to be vulnerable. I want time made when time is scarce. I am programmed polyamorously, though I am in a traditionally monogamous marriage. I seek partners who value discretion while learning to care for multiples.

As a direct bonus that would have saved me time and anguish: I give zero fux about your dick pics, your sportsball as your only interest, your hoping for my pussy over my brain, your assumption that poly is about threesomes and therefore hawt as long as there are two women and you, and your egocentric need for a woman to validate your masculinity.

I then proceeded to ask every potential interest a list of questions, that were hilariously referred to as the “common application for my pussy.” As I vetted partners, these questions got more direct and intense. Think to yourself, how do you distill your needs down to questions in order to find people worthy of your most precious energy?

  1. How long have you been seeking partners outside of your marriage? Have you been successful (however you define that)?
  2. What do you love and value about your home partner and life there? We all have baggage and nothing is perfect.  I look to celebrate what works rather than letting the things that challenge ruin the perspective of what is exceptional. I am married with two kids in high school. My husband is super funny and beyond dedicated to me and the kids.  I love him for that dearly.
  3. What are you looking for here ultimately?  I started looking mostly as a thought experiment…and found that actually knowing and asking for what you want and need is pretty cool….so do it here.
  4. Kinks? Preferences? What do you like?  Where are the boundaries that you already know are there?
  5. Do you drink? Do you experiment with or use drugs? STD free now and what is your sexual history? (Now I would add: What are your COVID-19 distancing habits?)
  6. Do you understand polyamory? How many partners do you seek?
  7. What do you do for a living?  I know what you do and who you are aren’t always same thing…but that is part of your being…so tell me about it.

The questions help me weed out the folks who cannot have complete, complex thoughts, those who will rag on their home partners nonstop, those whose identity is wrapped up in something that isn’t a good fit for me, and those who don’t wish to spend time submitting the “common application for my pussy.” If they cannot answer seven little questions, they don’t deserve an ounce of my energy. And frankly, if the don’t have questions of their own, they don’t know what they need or want either.

From there, then decisions can get made. Do I shut the door, or does the dance begin?

Thought Experiment: Round 1

After I asked my husband for an open marriage and after running from the pain of that request, I was lost. Is it important enough to revisit the discussion? What do I want? Am I capable of loving and being good to more people? Do I have the skills needed to be clear with my potential partners?

I started an online profile on a dating site for attached folks seeking discrete relationships. It began as a thought experiment to see if I was capable of being clear about my desires, what I seek in partners, and if there were actually others out there whose desires were in line with mine. The answer is YES! But not in round 1. There was learning to do!

My first round of interested folks came to me. They sent messages and I responded. I learned a lot:

  • Profile writing – almost nobody reads what is written, most look at age/height/weight/picture, maybe even a few just see gender and don’t care past pussy
  • Numbers game – there are WAY more men than women on sights for discreet affairs, and most female profiles are bots or scams for money
  • Unknown intent – very few people know what they actually are seeking and not everyone who responds is actually prepared to have an affair
  • Dick pics – they are an odd method of saying “hi”

Where do I start?

The beginning is cloudy. There is no one moment that I can label as the start. Here are the factors key:

I was raised conservatively to guard chastity above all else. I was encouraged to be smart, but not too smart because boys don’t like that. I have a high IQ and emotionally aware, and I used those skills to do the work for others around me.

I am a care taker. I take care of others’ needs, and I feel pride in that role. I see the needs of others often over their expressed wants, and I provide. This is often at great cost to myself.

There is another piece here related to a major life event and the growth associated. I want to write about that, but not yet. For now, we will call it “Owning My Influence.”

I asked for an open marriage, as I thought there may be an opportunity to love and care for others rather than expecting one person to meet our every need. I seek to value people for who they are without devaluing them for what they cannot be.

My request to discuss an open relationship was denied. But I want to be fair, I saw my husband’s pain and I deferred to his needs like I have always done. If I don’t care for his needs, I am deemed selfish. If I do, I am lost. How do I thrive given these two impossible choices?

I had choices to make, and to make them, I needed to learn. Can I be good to multiple people? Am I capable of clear communication? What do I want? Who the fuck am I really once I shed the labels given to me by others? Are there others like me? Will I survive the learning curve? Will my marriage survive the journey?

I have been playing without permission for a little over one year. I have learned a lot about myself and about others. I will endeavor to unpack it here, parcel by parcel. Some of the things packed have broken, some are mangled beyond repair, but the most resilient pieces at the core of my being are all that is left. Do I need more than those few pieces? Time and reflection will tell.

Today…I use my voice.

Today…I use my voice. I use it to say what I have hidden. I use it to avoid being unseen and unheard. I have been thinking and writing for the better part of a year, and thus far I haven’t been brave enough to press “publish.” Today, my words will be few. They will not be profound. But they will be brave and they will be out loud.

Hi, my name is Aria. Welcome to my awakening…