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As I feel my relationship of the last four years failing I find my pansexuality at war with me.
With uncaring caprice I find myself attracted by the idea of one kind of person one moment, another the next.
This is the only time I objectify transvestites. But few crossdresses achieve a holistic balance I could accept.
Then I wonder why I haven't tried a hairy butch daddy.
To bounce back to the thought that if I'd only done the right thing I might still be living with a woman.
Well, how about a plain, normal post-gay queer guy.But would I ever be happy with anything other than a old fashioned nelly gay guy?
The answer to the last is really yes. Sadly, yes.
Desire and wishful thinking ricochet about my mind, focusing momentarily on one fascination or another.
If only I were younger, if only the last few years hadn't taken such an evil toll on my body. Those are the only consistent themes.
The confusion will eventually abate: there's no reason to lock into one mode. The pain, eventually, will as well. And given time I can return to being something like the - to use the wicked noun - man that I want to be.