Sexualities: Seeking to summarize
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It has been neat after a couple of years of nattering away on Live Journal to feel able to feel ready to - with whatever fond illusions - sum up my sexualities (although I'll be emending and amending forever on my weblog's editions). The private psychic aftershocks have been surprising.
Absorbed in writing about Siobhan I found myself in an almost wholly heterosexual erotic space. That has happened only twice before: just after she left, once when I was violently angry with Charles. Although the second instance alternated with a short-lived interest in masculine men. Anger expressed itself in pushing out the erotic bias that first drew me to him. I'll own to a slight wish I'd had a better chance to explore the variety of women's bodies and ways of dressing. But no more so than the books unread and the paths that your life doesn't allow you to wander down. (Charles has but to look sad or hug me and he's back at center stage in my life's drama.)
Similarly with crossdressers, my selfish dreams of my ideal crossdresser returned. My fantasy crossdresser would have a wealth of female personations (im isn't missing). He'd embody a thousand whimsical and seductive conceits.
In writing about feminine gay men, ah, nothing happened. Nelly gay men are my indefectible ideal. Reading the news this morning I read that Bulgarian Education Minister Vladimir Atanassov said women's breasts were "the basis of aesthetics." No, minister, aesthetics are rooted in the languid, pouting young man.
Anyway it has been exhausting to find myself yanked across the range of my sexualities. I'd meant to say more but I'm a bit fagged.