Autochorissexuality: Arousal Without Self-Insertion
Saturday, November 22, 2025.
There are people—perfectly respectable, often well-read—who can be undone by erotic imagination without the slightest desire to insert themselves into the tableau.
They blush, they thrill, they feel the pulse of something interesting, and yet if you suggest they join the fantasy, they react as if you’ve asked them to perform amateur dentistry.
These are the autochorissexuals.
They should be left in peace.
Autochorissexuality, if we must define it without resorting to interpretive dance, is the experience of being aroused by a sexual scenario in which one does not appear.
The fantasy is vivid, the heat is real, the pulse is unmistakable—but the self remains firmly offstage, lounging in the wings with a drink and a general lack of ambition.
Some might call this detachment.
others call it good judgment.
What Autochorissexuality Actually Means
In plainer language: autochorissexual people are erotically moved by scenes, dynamics, and scenarios while maintaining the good sense not to imagine themselves in the middle of the mess.
The fantasy can involve:
strangers
fictional characters
historically implausible situations
acrobatic positions that would hospitalize the average citizen
anything except themselves
Add them to the picture, and the whole thing collapses like a poorly funded play. Whatever fire was there flickers, coughs, and dies. The erotic spell is broken the moment the self walks onstage.
For many, the self is the least erotic element of their own imagination.
And frankly, can you blame them?
What It Is Not (No, Really—Stop Guessing)
Let’s eliminate the usual suspects:
It is not repression.
It is not voyeurism.
It is not trauma.
It is perhaps not even a moral failing.
It is not evidence that someone needs to “open up” or “relax” or any other suggestion best suited to cocktail napkins at a bad wedding.
This is simply a style—a sexual preference for imaginative distance.
Some people like being in the picture; some people look better in the credits.
Autochorissexuality is the latter.
Why This Erotic Architecture Makes Perfect Sense
There is an exhausting cultural expectation that one should be the star of every performance: the lead vocalist, the protagonist, the main character. As if the world might collapse without one’s face plastered across it.
Autochorissexuals, refreshingly, do not subscribe to this mythology.
They prefer to watch.
They prefer tension without obligation.
They prefer sensuality without choreography.
They prefer eroticism free of the logistical burden of imagining themselves doing anything in particular.
Self-insertion, for them, is the erotic equivalent of spilling soup in one’s lap at a formal dinner. Suddenly the magic dies, replaced by the dull reality of one’s own limbs.
Who could blame them for bowing out?
Are We Certain This Isn’t Just Another Refuge for the Avoidantly Inclined?
Let us not be naïve.
Every identity is vulnerable to misuse, especially by people who have never once met a relational responsibility they didn’t attempt to dodge.
It is always possible someone will claim autochorissexuality the way others claim “I’m bad at texting”—as if confession were absolution.
Does the label ever serve as cover?
Of course. Humans adore alibis.
But a poor carpenter does not make the hammer fraudulent.
A misuse does not invalidate a truth.
The real question is not whether the label is real.
It’s whether the behavior that accompanies it is decent.
Arousal without participation is fine.
Arousal without accountability is something else entirely.
Autochorissexuality doesn’t exempt anyone from relational ethics.
It’s merely a description of desire, not a surgeon general’s warning.
FAQ: Autochorissexuality
Does autochorissexual mean someone never wants sex?
Not remotely. Many enjoy sex quite nicely. They simply do not appear in their own imaginations.
Isn’t this just voyeurism?
If it were voyeurism, someone else would be aware and arrested. Autochorissexuality is private, internal, and blissfully unlitigious.
Is it about self-esteem?
Sometimes. More often, the fantasy is simply more elegant without the intrusion of the self.
Is this connected to neurodivergence?
Often, yes—particularly among people for whom imagining themselves in any scene (sexual or otherwise) is a creative challenge.
Can autochorissexual people love someone?
Yes. Sexual imagination and romantic capacity are famously terrible at coordinating their schedules.
Does it “go away” with confidence?
Confidence is wonderful, but it has never once overruled a fundamental erotic architecture.
Final Thoughts
Autochorissexuality is not confusion, not avoidance, not pathology.
It is a quiet acknowledgment that one’s erotic imagination prefers a certain tasteful distance.
Some people burn brightest standing center stage. Others generate heat from the balcony.
Both positions have their merits. One simply requires better seating.
And if the rest of the world insisted less loudly on starring in everything, we might all be spared a great deal of secondhand embarrassment.
Be Well Stay Kind, and Godspeed.
REFERENCES:
Damasio, A. (2010). Self comes to mind: Constructing the conscious brain. Pantheon.
Gazzaniga, M. (2018). The consciousness instinct: Unraveling the mystery of how the brain makes the mind. Farrar, Straus and Giroux.
Pfaus, J. G. (2009). Pathways of sexual desire. Journal of Sexual Medicine, 6(6), 1506–1533. https://doi.org/10.1111/j.1743-6109.2009.01309.x
Stoléru, S., Fonteille, V., Cornélis, C., Joyal, C., & Moulier, V. (2012). Functional neuroimaging studies of sexual arousal and orgasm in healthy men and women: A review and meta-analysis. Neuroscience & Biobehavioral Reviews, 36(6), 1481–1509. https://doi.org/10.1016/j.neubiorev.2012.03.006
Zeman, A., Dewar, M., & Della Sala, S. (2016). Lives without imagery—Congenital aphantasia. Cortex, 74, 378–380. https://doi.org/10.1016/j.cortex.2015.06.013