People don’t know if I’m gay, and it used to make me self-conscious and now I think it’s hilarious and high praise.
Hell yeah, I’m fit as fuck. I’m well dressed. I’m polite and amicable. I’m a bit enigmatic. I love my “ju-ju”, generally in rings or accessories.
I’ve got a pretty good cuddlefish, meaning I can camouflage into any social circle. A combination of witty, complimentary, bard, and quiet, meant to just get in under the bar of acceptance and inclusion, without stepping on toes but interesting enough to have a few stories or interested enough to make engaging small talk
I’m pretty hetero. Bout 93%, give take. [Kinsey Scale also theorizes change over time] Frankly, I like minds and bodies more than genitalia. Be thoughtful and healthy and hold safe space and the rest of it’s situational at worst; and emotionally fulfilling at best!
But while [mostly] I knew who I was, plenty of incidences gave me cause for concern:
A running bet from a group of friends in high school on when I’d come out.
Homosexuality being an insult leveled at my fancy-ass self.
Being just terrible with women. Just. Like, headshaking-ly disappointing.
The kicker: general angst and insecurity. [Thank you puberty!]
But I’ve finally gotten to a place where other people’s perception of my sexuality doesn’t matter to me. In fact, it’s funny and I’ll take anyone being confused or intrigued or aghast or insulting as a compliment. Something made them think about me getting down or consider a late-night-winky-face-text. That’s always an ego boost.
I think it’s important during Pride month [fk. I missed that deadline too. Writing is hard okay? And editing is worse….forgive me sempai ‘>.<] to remember not only to celebrate our sexuality in the rainbow spectrum that we represent, but also to recall that we are not our sexuality. We are ourselves.
Do you boo. If you want to try make up, or wear dresses, or lift weights, or bake bread, or code, or build, or play, or cry. Do whatever the fuck you want. Get your rocks off in/on/with whatever/whomever [with explicit/enthusiastic consent. Duh.] Wiggle in happiness. Weep in release. Dance like no bodies watching. The most judgmental are the most scared. The most nervous are the most envious. The real ones know there aren’t any rules; we all die; any moment you can steal, with others or by yourself, is worth the entire universe.
I’ve finding out who I am and I love him. I treasure him. I want him to reach greater heights and do bigger things. I will put forth the effort and always reach out when I need help. [And I will be better at reaching my hand out to others.]
This is me stealing moments from the universe. One word at a time.