Attraction doesn’t always follow a straight path. For some, it curves, shifts, and even fades altogether—only to return in a different form. While that experience might sound confusing, it’s far more common than most people realize. And yes, it has a name: abrosexuality.
Writer Emma Flint didn’t have that word for most of her life. For three decades, she felt like she was floating between identities, never quite sure where she belonged. In a powerful piece published by Metro UK in July 2024, she shared her journey—one marked by constant change, inner conflict, and, eventually, a sense of peace.
At 32, Flint reflected on years of identifying as a lesbian, only to find herself attracted to men at times, and then to no one at all. The cycle repeated. And with each shift, came uncertainty.
“I felt lost, as if out at sea,” she wrote. “I also felt like a fraud because of how much I changed my identity when chatting with loved ones.”
It wasn’t indecision, she clarified—it was something deeper. Her sexuality, as she discovered, wasn’t fixed.
“One day I felt like I was a lesbian, yet days or weeks later, I’d feel more aligned with bisexuality. My sexuality was fluid.”
Everything changed the day she came across the term abrosexual in an online forum. Suddenly, things made sense. There was a name for what she’d been experiencing, and that name gave her validation.
“Finally,” she said, “I felt seen.”
Abrosexuality is still a lesser-known identity in the LGBTQ+ spectrum. Healthline describes it as a form of sexual fluidity where attraction can shift over time—not just in terms of who someone is attracted to, but whether they feel attraction at all. It’s different from identities like bisexuality or pansexuality, which are defined by the gender(s) someone is attracted to. Abrosexuality, instead, focuses on the changing nature of that attraction.
Flint explained it like this:
“I love the person, rather than their gender… It doesn’t matter if my sexuality fluctuates while I’m with them.”
Still, even with this clarity, the response from others hasn’t always been understanding. She’s often met with resistance from people who demand she “pick a lane,” as though consistency is required for legitimacy.
“Just because you don’t know or understand an identity doesn’t make it less authentic,”
she said.
So what does abrosexuality look like in real life? According to Healthline, it varies widely:
You might feel attracted to men one week, and the next only to women.
You could identify as pansexual for months, then feel no attraction at all.
Maybe you’ve felt straight your whole life, until something shifts—and suddenly, you’re drawn to someone of the same gender.
These shifts might happen over days, weeks, or years. Some people may experience long stretches of asexuality. For others, their feelings morph more quickly. There’s no timeline. No fixed rule. And that’s exactly the point.
Flint emphasized that our identities, just like ourselves, can evolve.
“We’re all learning new things about ourselves all the time – that’s what growth and development is about,”
she wrote. Her hope? That abrosexuality will eventually be recognized as just another valid identity—not a trend, not a phase, but a real part of who someone is.
Her story is more than personal—it’s powerful. It reminds us that language matters. That visibility matters. And that, sometimes, hearing the right word can help someone stop feeling like they’re broken and start feeling like they belong.
What do you think about identities like abrosexuality? Do they reflect the true complexity of human attraction—or raise more questions than answers? Join the conversation and share this story if it got you thinking.
