Sexuality isn’t always linear—and for many, it’s anything but predictable. For those whose feelings of attraction shift over time, even fade and return in new ways, there’s a term that might resonate: abrosexual.
Writer Emma Flint only discovered that term recently, but the experience it describes has been part of her life for decades. In a candid article for Metro UK published in July 2024, she opened up about navigating three decades of shifting identities and inner turmoil, ultimately finding clarity—and peace.
Flint, now 32, recounted how she spent years identifying as a lesbian. But then she’d sometimes find herself attracted to men. Other times, she felt no romantic or sexual pull at all. This cycle of change repeated itself so often that she began to feel unmoored.
“I felt adrift,” she wrote. “I also felt dishonest whenever I tried to explain these shifts to those close to me.”
What she experienced wasn’t confusion or indecisiveness. It was something more intrinsic. Her attraction wasn’t static—and now, she knows it never was.
“Some days, I felt sure I was a lesbian. Other times, I leaned toward bisexuality,” she explained. “My sense of attraction was always evolving.”
Everything shifted when she stumbled across the word “abrosexual” in an online space. Suddenly, her past made sense. There was a term for the fluidity she’d lived with for so long.
“For the first time,” she said, “I felt understood.”
Abrosexuality, while still relatively unfamiliar to many, is a legitimate orientation within the LGBTQ+ spectrum. According to Healthline, it describes a fluid form of attraction that can change over time—not just in terms of who someone is attracted to, but whether they experience attraction at all. It’s different from being bisexual or pansexual, which focus on gender preferences. Abrosexuality emphasizes the changing nature of attraction itself.
Flint put it this way:
“I’m drawn to people—not genders. And if my orientation shifts while I’m in a relationship, that doesn’t make my connection any less real.”
Despite finding personal clarity, she’s often met with doubt and pushback. Some have pressured her to “choose a side,” assuming that identity requires consistency.
“But a lack of familiarity doesn’t make something invalid,” she responded.
So what does abrosexuality actually look like? It varies from person to person. One week, someone might feel attracted to men. The next, only to women. Some might identify as pansexual for a while, and then enter a stretch of feeling no attraction at all. These phases might last days, months, or even years. There’s no set pattern—and that fluidity is exactly the point.
Flint says it best: identity is a process.
“We’re always learning more about who we are,” she wrote. “That’s what personal growth looks like.”
Her story is more than just a coming-out narrative. It’s a reminder that having the right language to describe our experiences can be transformative. It’s about feeling seen, not strange. And it’s about recognizing that identities like abrosexuality are just as valid as any other—no matter how much they evolve.
What’s your take on fluid identities like abrosexuality? Do they help capture the full range of human experience—or leave you with more questions? Share your thoughts and let’s open the conversation.
