Ah, Heterosexuality

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Nothing touches upon my interior contradictions than my occasional discomfort with straight people. Or rather what may be the majority heterosexual culture in contemporary America.

Pretty funny from a man who has admitted to treating nelly gay males in a very sexist manner: I was a very heterosexist homo.

Since Alex is a male-to-female transsexual she is a woman. We even interact at times within a few heterosexual norms. I’d hate to have given up gallantry just because it wasn’t with a guy.

Alex and I do this at least partly for my sake, partly as a sort of aesthetically pleasing ritual. And - very importantly - with an awareness of one another’s inner androgyny (I’m masculine man whose personality is in many ways patterned after his mother.)

The expansion of my erotic potential never wiped away my sense of myself as a queer (faggot, gay male, whatever). At least as it felt way back when. The mainstreaming of gay men has done much to dampen any feelings of gayness as outsider status.

My cultural estrangement doesn’t apply to those I’m close to. But that is a select population. I’ve never socialized much: the great majority - who are all fine people I’m sure - will have more fun with someone else anyway. And I’ve been lucky enough to have control over whom I interact with for most of my life.

Occasionally I run across gender discourse that while well tempered, thoughtful that induces vertigo. Even unto something akin to cultural nausea (I am exaggerating). And I even like the people writing the words that cause my vision to blur.

The women in my life have been more likely to wear lumberjack flannel shirts than dresses. Work in construction rather than white collar. While asked if they are feminist they would probably say yes even though their behavior may be more post-feminist. For them the gender divide died long ago.

My years of blogging about sexuality have taught me: most gender research should be swept into the academic dustbin. Respondent populations measured in the dozens. Self-administered and tendentious questionnaires. And all those dreadful meta-analyses based on the aforementioned ostensible research.

Given some more years perhaps the Human Genome Project and mapping of brain chemistry will really provide us with trustworthy data from which to generalize.

But, what the heck, I don’t call myself a pansexual sodomite for nothing. And I’ve written countless pages documenting my preference for androgyny.

My point? Nothing much really. For the past couple of centuries we’ve been able to enjoy self-indulgent gazing at our mind’s innards.

And isn’t that one of the thing bloggers notoriously do?


Hello, Richard - I got to thinking about you this morning and wondering how you are. I am happy to find that you are still writing and happier still to discover that you have found someone special. Do you remember me? Take care,


Howdy Teri,

Yes, I do indeed remember you and your warmth.

I don’t know quite why I drifted away from LJ. It was never my intent. Probably just those soul-destroying years with Charles.

Yeah, I’m very, very lucky to have found Alex. Pity that an ocean and foolish geopolitics keep us from being together all the time.

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Pansexual Sodomite
My Life is an Open Blog
Ah, Heterosexuality
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