Choosing your sexuality
See more » Ambiguously Gendered See more » Love and Lust
Many of my Live Journal and weblog entries have been in praise of feminine gay males, nelly boys, nancyboys, or to use my favorite word, daffodillies.
Sometimes I've wondered how much of my sexuality is an expression of irresistible needs and how much is an act of will. (In the sense that Nietzsche said that one must give style to one's character.)
I remember lusting after girls in high school. I can recall some of their bodies three decades later. Boys too for sure, the recollection of one blonde boy can raise my skin temperature even now. It was boys I tried to have sex with before I was even a teen. But I didn't have any female friends.
I'm glad that Victor's sister Ebba remembered that I'd told her that I was finding that I couldn't masturbate about women without thinking of men. (Tell your good friends everything; they'll fill in patches that would otherwise be lost.)
Victor and John kissed; my young self surprised himself with his joy in pretty boys. Whatever warmth girls' shiny hair and boobs inspired faded.
After seven years as a fulltime homo (no vacations or sick leave allowed) I found my cock happily pumping away in a woman's cunt.
One Playboy Playmate aside I don't fantasizing about other women. I do remember wishing I could have sex with a guy or two that I saw. Which might have much to do with why Siobhan finally walked out one day.
Once she was gone I found myself strongly alive to women's erotic charms (pretty young men as well). There wasn't much left of me of me than tatters and shreds. I started watching TV a lot. There were three women I found myself sexually fixated on: Cybill Shepherd, Diane Ladd and Heather Locklear (since the last is little more than a professional bimbo leaving me a little abashed). Why those three? They are all blond. They were on TV. There were plenty of nice looking boys coming into the shop (and it would've been best if I'd never sited my neighbor D**** C**** as one of them when I first met Charles). I hankered after them as well. Young Johnny Depp aside the TV stars weren't apt to match my particular tastes.
I've sometimes wondered did I choose to be queer? Did my delight in being a sexual outlaw (as John Rechy would phrase it) cause me to block out my ability to love women? Since I spent years sexually indifferent to women I can't guess.
Living with a woman rid me of many erotic preferences.
Way back in Atlanta a very butch bodybuilder wanted to sleep with me. I was hot to do it. Sadly we both had complicated, distracted lives and after a couple of failed attempts to make the time I moved to San Francisco. He had an angry ethical purity that reminded me much of Victor that I think shorted out my skinny, hairless, nelly guys.
If Charles hadn't IM'd me when he did I might've never met him. I'd met a very butch, taller, older man that I thought was pretty neat. Sexually he would've been on top, if a relationship evolved he clearly would've been the dominant partner. The very notion confused me but we were talking. I was psyching myself up to it. Then I heard Charles' nelly voice.
So I can lust after women, even manly men. And of course the tender ones betwixt and between. I can willingly (willfully?) choose to find anyone sexually desirable. (Hence, pansexual.)
I do regret that I never had at least one experience with a very masculine man. Perhaps it would've bombed. Perhaps I'd have opened myself to a wider range of gay men. Well, at least one. I can't really imagine being who I am without my fervent affection for the genderqueer.
But I can't help but wonder to what degree I've unknowingly chosen my sexuality. Not that it doesn't reflect a deep personal need for the soft, and fey.
Unless that it was that the nelly guys chose me. Maybe if in the earliest days of my newly discovered sexuality I'd found myself with a hairy, sweaty man or two my desires would've wended their way. Not that they were that common back then (or my own preferences blinded me).
I cut myself off from a large portion of gay men who may have been worth knowing. Of course I was equally distant from crossdressers and women.
I wish I could enter a parallel dimension and infuse my young self with my more mature sexuality and see what he'd do with it. Would've he started ramming himself against macho men? Be spoiling his grandchildren? Have chased crazed drag queens? Or living with a nelly gay guy that he tries to love even during the worst weeks.