The 30/40/20 Split: My Weird Little Cocktail of Sexuality
By Trinity Barnette
On June 18th, I published “Not Quite Straight, Not Quite Bi: My Experience With Fluidity, Friendship, and Female Intimacy.” (If you missed it, go read it first—it’s basically part one of this whole saga).
Since then, I’ve been doing a lot of reflecting on my sexuality and my experiences, and I’ve finally come to a conclusion that actually makes sense to me.
I was born and raised to be a heterosexual woman. My parents never gave me a big “LGBTQ talk,” and I didn’t grow up in areas where it was really preached, taught, or popular. As a kid and early teen, though, I definitely experienced attraction to both men and women (frequent readers already know that story).
Later, I went back to being “okay” with just being straight. My sexual experiences with women proved to me that I didn’t really swing that way—or at least not sexually. TMI, but this a Raw Reflections, not Soft Reflections.
Then, my therapist suggested I look into asexuality. That hit me hard, because I think OnlyFans and the way I did my job really affected me—not just personally, but sexually. Sexuality-wise, it definitely changed me more than I realized.
That rabbit hole of research also reminded me of another label I’d heard before: demisexuality. Suddenly, I felt like the puzzle pieces started coming together.
The truth? Heterosexuality by itself doesn’t completely fit me. Labels get a bad rep for being “too much,” and I get that—there are a lot. But for people like me, labels are actually grounding. With my Borderline Personality disorder ( BPD) especially, they help me have some kind of anchor for who I am. Without them, I feel like I’ll literally forget myself.
So let’s break this down. Before I get into my little 30/40/20 sexuality cocktail, here’s what each of these terms actually means and how they fit into my story:
Definition: Attraction to the opposite sex/gender.
How it fits me: This was the default setting I was raised with, and it’s still true—I’m definitely attracted to men, especially when they’re physically my type. But over time, I realized “straight” felt too broad to describe all of me.
Definition: Attraction to two or more genders, not always equally.
How it fits me: In my early teen years, this felt right. I was genuinely drawn to women in emotional and romantic ways, and I did love them in certain ways. But as I got older and gained more experience, I realized I didn’t want sexual experiences with women, so “bi” no longer felt like home.
Definition: Experiencing little to no sexual attraction toward others. (This doesn’t mean you can’t have relationships—it just means sex isn’t a priority or focus.)
How it fits me: After OF, I found myself more reserved, more turned off, and less interested in sex altogether. The idea of flirting and performing sexually like I used to actually makes me cringe now. I still get attraction, but it’s rare, and I don’t really want to act on it most of the time.
Demisexuality (Under the Ace Spectrum)
Definition: Sexual attraction only happens when there’s a strong emotional or intellectual connection first.
How it fits me: This clicked for me because I can’t be attracted to someone who doesn’t stimulate me mentally. You can go from hot to not instantly if you show me you’re dumb. Emotional safety and intellectual attraction are the key for me to even consider opening up sexually.
My 30/40/20 Cocktail
This may not be the last time I talk about my sexuality. One thing about me—I like to be honest with my readers about my life and what’s going on, even if it’s messy, unresolved, or uncertain. That’s the whole point of Raw Reflections. I’m here to speak truth, and especially speak my own.
So, after weeks of reflection, here’s where I’ve landed: if I had to break my sexuality down into a pie chart, it’d look like this—
30% Straight → Men are still my baseline attraction. I notice them first, and I can definitely imagine being in relationships with them. But straight by itself doesn’t cover the whole story—it’s just one slice of the pie.
40% Asexual → Here’s the bigger piece: I rarely feel sexual attraction anymore, and when I do, I usually don’t want to act on it. After OF, my relationship with sex completely changed. I became more reserved, more private, and honestly turned off by things that used to feel normal. My vibrator? Essential. Another person in my bed? Not so much.
20% Demisexual → And then there’s this layer—the part of me that can feel sexual attraction, but only after a strong emotional or intellectual connection. If you don’t stimulate me mentally, it doesn’t matter how fine you are—you went from hot to not instantly. Demisexuality explains that I need something deeper before I even consider opening up.
That’s my weird little cocktail. Not quite straight, not quite ace, not quite demi—just a mix that’s mine. And it might evolve again in the future, but this is the most accurate way I can explain myself right now.
If there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that sexuality is fluid. It shifts, it grows, it pulls back, it changes—and that’s okay. For now, this is me: 30% straight, 40% asexual, 20% demisexual. It might not stay this way forever, but right now, it feels like the most honest version of myself. And that’s all that matters.
To anyone else out there struggling to narrow down their sexuality, or questioning what label fits—you don’t need to have it all figured out right this second. You don’t have to stay in one box forever, either. You are allowed to shift, evolve, and redefine yourself as many times as you need.
The truth is, we’re all works in progress. The best thing you can do is speak your truth, even if it’s messy, even if it changes tomorrow. Because that honesty is where the real power is.
