Slim Gilt Souls: Inescapable
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After the prior entry I’ve been running over in my mind how I came to be so strongly drawn to femininity.
My internal montage is a bit confused.
Even though the first time I saw a boy wearing makeup is day I’ve remembered for many years I didn’t realize is was a defining or at least symbolic moment.
I was initially conscious of a strong attraction to what would be called twinks. Definitions of twinkhood vary. Well at least from young to young and smooth.
I liked young (which was OK because I was as well) guys.
Skinny was good. One of my first conscious perceptions was preferring boys without muscle. Slender but shapeless you could fairly call them. Though later I’d come to appreciate more sharply sculpted male shapes.
Smaller than me. And here, though, I didn’t know it I was heading toward the feminine. Unequal height is a common desire among heterosexuals. (And I’ve admitted to something like fragmentary heterosexuality.)
I don’t think that I liked blondes best says anything more than I’m full of erotic clichés. Though I’d only have one blonde lover. (I have a passion for redheads and was never lucky enough to snag a single one.)
It was only over time that I realized that the boys with extravagant gestures, whose fingers traced meaningless patterns in the air excited me most. A weird mix of the feral and the bashful that I’ve never perceived in anyone other than the feminine gay male of yesteryear.
That they are fading away is good in the sense that being conventional enables acceptance. Bad in that every odd quality that is lost in everything from demeanor to architecture leaves us with a diminished world.
Eventually in my heart the nelly would triumph over the twink. And the most pedestrian looking femme gay male would become more beautiful than the most harmoniously formed hairless guy.
With maturity I’d come to appreciate that boys can wear dresses. And perhaps want to be girls.
Their ambiguity and delicacy prove a charm that I wasn’t able to resist.
I didn’t seek this particular evolution of my erotic nature. It happened of its own accord. Sexuality is. Only a fool fights it.
My romantic life might very well proved better had my path not gone this way. Too late for me to worry about that. And what would I have done about it anyway?