The human experience of attraction is often portrayed as a fixed compass point—a stable identity that, once discovered, remains constant throughout life. Yet for many people, desire is not a permanent map but a shifting tide. This fluidity of attraction is more common than society typically acknowledges, and it has a specific name: abrosexuality. While the term may be unfamiliar to some, for those who live it, it provides a vital framework of understanding after years of confusion.
The importance of having the right language is perhaps best illustrated by the story of writer Emma Flint. In a deeply personal narrative, Flint described a thirty-year journey of self-discovery that ultimately led her to identify as abrosexual. For decades, she navigated a world that demanded a singular “lane” of attraction, leaving her feeling perpetually adrift. By the age of thirty-two, she reflected on a youth spent trying on various identities like ill-fitting clothes, wondering why none seemed to fit for long.
For much of her life, Flint identified as a lesbian, a label that sometimes felt right—until it didn’t. There were periods when she felt exclusively attracted to women, followed by unexpected stretches in which men drew her attention. At other times, her sexual desire would vanish entirely, leaving her asexual for weeks or months, before the cycle began anew. This constant fluctuation created a sense of internal instability. Flint described feeling like a fraud, as if she were indecisive or failing to “commit” to an identity, rather than simply experiencing a natural, internal shift.
“I felt lost, as if adrift at sea,” Flint said, recalling the psychological toll of her uncertainty. The frustration didn’t stem from an inability to choose—it came from the reality that her identity was inherently fluid. On any given day, she might feel aligned with one sexual orientation, only for that alignment to shift shortly after. Everything changed when she discovered the term abrosexual in an online forum. For the first time, her decades of confusion resolved into clarity. She wasn’t “confused” or inconsistent—she was abrosexual.
Abrosexuality is a distinct identity within the LGBTQ+ spectrum that centers on sexual fluidity. Unlike terms such as bisexuality or pansexuality, which describe the genders someone is attracted to, abrosexuality describes how attraction itself changes over time. An abrosexual person experiences shifts in orientation, cycling through phases that may resemble homosexuality, heterosexuality, bisexuality, or asexuality. The defining characteristic is movement—a dynamic, ever-changing nature of desire.
The ways abrosexuality manifests are diverse. For some, changes occur day-to-day, with preferences shifting as quickly as moods. For others, attraction may last months or even years before transitioning. Some experience periods of gray-sexuality or asexuality, where sexual desire diminishes significantly before returning in a new form. There is no universal pattern, which makes the identity both unique and, at times, difficult for others to grasp.
One major challenge for abrosexual people is the pressure to provide a fixed, unchanging answer. Flint recalled that even after explaining her fluidity, people demanded she “pick a lane” to make her identity easier to digest. Society’s discomfort with ambiguity often leads to fluid identities being dismissed as trendy or indecisive. But as Flint emphasized, a lack of understanding from others does not diminish the authenticity of the experience. Human growth often involves learning about ourselves in evolving ways, and fluidity is a legitimate way to exist in the world.
The value of the abrosexual label lies in its validation of lived experience. For thirty years, Flint felt “broken” because her reality didn’t match rigid societal categories. Discovering a community and a name for her experience allowed her to stop seeing her fluidity as a flaw and start seeing it as part of her humanity. Visibility is crucial; many people spend entire lives feeling out of place simply because they lack the vocabulary to describe themselves.
Flint’s story underscores a broader truth about identity: as language evolves to better capture human experience, more people find the courage to step outside traditional boxes. For her, the focus remains on individuals rather than gender, allowing her to maintain meaningful connections even as her sexual attraction shifts. By sharing her journey, she hopes to normalize abrosexuality, moving it from a misunderstood or “trendy” idea to a respected, recognized identity.
Ultimately, the journey toward self-acceptance is shaped by the words we use to define ourselves. For those whose hearts and desires do not remain fixed, abrosexuality offers a sense of home. It reminds us that attraction is not always a straight line; for some, it is a winding path. And there is profound beauty and authenticity in that journey. As society continues to learn and grow, the goal is for every individual—no matter how often their identity changes—to feel seen, understood, and at peace with who they are in the moment.