Unrealized sexuality: pansexuality
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In writing about my unrealized sexualities I've confessed that I could've enjoyed being slapped around, slapping around. Found pleasure in boys in dresses, people who are hermaphrodites or have achieved biological conditions for which there are no names. Loved women and maybe even a rough hairy daddy.
How young were you the first time you felt if only I knew what I've discovered when I was younger? I couldn't have been older than 25 the when that regret hit me.
Sure, I wish I could send the clock rotating manically in reverse and find myself young again with life's accumulated insights. Know myself as a pansexual man at, say, eighteen. A good age because there's no legal doubt about your parents' power over you.
Thinking clearly though I don't know what I would've made of my freedom if I could send myself back in time and biology. The penis will always have its sway. Even if you are a romantic schmuck like myself and would've blurred love with lust. My life could've had a greater variety of bodies. Doesn't mean I wouldn't have made equally dumb mistakes albeit with people who weren't just femme gay guys.
I'll grant the honorable frustrations of gay men who wish they could relive their past more wisely. But I really think they are mostly wishing they could recapture the desirability they had when they were young. Physically aging is cruel: we can't muster the admiration we once evoked in the pretty ones.
For some gay men that loss of social sexual potency is a loss of all they valued in their lives. But if you are lucky to be one of the people for whom being true to yourself is a real pleasure, adds value to your days then, hey, the increased depth of insight and empathy isn't anything to be dismissed. Pity there are so few of you.
One must give style to one's character!
Nietzsche said something like that.
Which doesn't mean you need to indulge in Oscar Wildean vampishness.
Being a camera for experience is an illusion. Everything about us is contingent on time, geography, biology and thousands of minutias that can't be accounted for.
You have to define your response to being alive somehow. Reach into your mind and shape the chaos of impressions. Something like that. We do it reflexively, most do it unthinkingly. (I hate it when I'm overwriting but some days I just can't shut up.)
Did I choose to care more for feminine gay men than butch or merely conventional men? Maybe. Masculinity as I knew it wasn't a good part of my childhood and youth.
Maybe not. Reaching back into my brain in the months after I first came out I remember lovely exemplars of soft, bitchy, shy, sassy, timid but always nelly young gay men. So my special predilection was alive even as I first began to know myself as a young queer man.
Their glitter, scent, ravishing silly ways remain will remain alive in my memory. Maybe I could've lived with and loved other people. But I got my snatches of passion and beauty. Only a fool wouldn't be grateful.
(And with this the series does really end.)