“Oh my God, that shit has been so normalised it’s expected,” Leah said. “And it shouldn’t be. It’s just all about sex, sex, sex.”

“Exactly,” Glenn said. “I tried Tinder and well, I matched with quite a few women, but as soon as I told them I’m not looking for a sexual relationship, it was over. Then I tried the ‘asexual equivalent,’” he said, using air quotes. “And there are still people who think you’ll change. Or they expect you to change. Or God, Glenn,” he said, mimicking a high-pitched voice, “it’s just sex. If you were a real man…”

Anwar groaned and rolled his eyes. “It never fails.”

“Yes!” Bonny said, throwing her hands up. “Oh my God, I can’t tell you how many times I’ve been told I’m frigid or cold or unreceptive. That something is fundamentally wrong with me. I’ve had guys from dating apps try to ‘convert’ me, if you know what I mean. Telling me if I just relaxed, I’d enjoy it.” Leah and Sabina both nodded.

“That’s not okay,” Anwar said, frowning.

“That’s never okay,” Merry agreed.

“There’s nothing wrong with you, Bonny,” I said, making direct eye contact. “Nothing needs fixing and most certainly can’t be converted. I hope you were able to leave that situation.”

“Oh yeah,” she reassured. “I was fine, thanks. I mean, we’ve all had people, men and women, tell us we just haven’t found the right person yet, right? Or we’re just not ready or we haven’t hit our peak yet, but look out when that happens, because sex is awesome!” she said, rolling her eyes.

Most everyone nodded and sighed, because yes. We’d all had those things said to us at some time. “And that, in itself,” I continued, “is a form of normalisation of sexualised behaviour. We become normalised to expect to have these views thrown at us. We’re becoming normalised to their behaviour.”

And so began group discussions on the semantics of the definition of normal, and then online dating sites and forums and the importance of sites they felt safe and comfortable in, where they could talk about their asexual or aromantic orientation. People were busy swapping weblinks and talking about which chat groups they were in when I chanced a look at Jordan.

He had sunk back in his chair, his face half cast in shadow. His expression was sullen, even a little lost. I couldn’t tell if he was listening intently or if he was a million miles away, though my guess was on the latter. Merry was fully immersed in the group discussion, laughing with Nataya so Jordan was kind of by himself, and I thought it might be a good time to ask him what he thought of the group meeting, if he thought it was relevant to his needs.