Anthology - Part II:
I grew up in a very male dominant environment, with a sexist oriented culture. People around me glorified men and masculinity, and femininity was, for them, a synonym of weakness and inferiority. Submissive mother, traditional male and female roles, remember? This was just an echo of the society my family was part of, and they played a leading role in this society. Someone who showed even a tiny bit of femininity was called gay, made fun of and discriminated against - regardless of whether they actually liked boys or not. In addition, all the gay guys I knew of were very effeminate and very out in the open about it, maybe because they had to be fierce to be able to handle living around those kinds of people. Add to that the fact that I was born in 1983, so my childhood years happened right when HIV and its complications became a thing, and that thing was heavily associated with gay men.
In the midst of that colourful scenery, my femininity started to pop its head outside the water for air. From a very early age I showed signs of a feminine side, but I was very quickly made to put that side away, suppress it, pretend it didn’t exist. To those around me, I was lucky enough to be born male, so I should be grateful for that and not start some idiotic nonsense about not wanting to be a man (their opinion, not mine). They couldn’t understand why someone who, in their view, won the gender jackpot would want to just give that up, move to the other side, even for a little bit at a time.
I also noticed pretty early on that I liked boys. Of course, as a child I didn’t understand the concept of liking as a form of attraction. But I knew it. I knew I felt something for the male people in my life that was not the same thing my male friends felt for the fellow men in their lives. Now, with the brain of a grown up, I can look back and see it clearly. I see things like how my first crush was on a male teacher, instead of a female one. That I didn’t like the girls that hung out with my male friends, not because of who they were, but because I wanted to be like them. I wanted those boys to look at me and treat me the way they treated those girls. Side fun fact: my very first kiss was with one of the butchiest girls in school. She was older than me, had short hair and would punch every person who messed with me in any way. I think she ended up coming out as a lesbian later in life, but I only heard rumours.
When I started to understand my sexuality and my desires, my forever pragmatic and pattern prone mind put men into two distinctive categories: either someone I feared, or someone I desired. I did have a few experiences with sex very early on in my life, which may have played a part in this - and one day I’ll have the guts to write about those experiences, but for now that’s still a box I am not ready to open. The point is, suddenly there was no middle ground to me when, it came to boys. I either wanted a guy for sex - even if he was my friend - or I was afraid he would hit me, treat me bad, make my life miserable. Sometimes, both at the same time.
But I did want guys, deep down inside I knew that. I thought about guys when I was trying to date girls. Another side fun fact: when I started dating girls, my dad told one of his pals, in front of me, that he was glad extremely glad and relieved, because he was up to that point terrified of 'the life I could end up having'. He basically admitted, out in the open, that he was afraid his son would be gay. And I wanted him to be right, I wanted my parents to be proud of me (which is a whole other can of worms, but now is not the time for this one). I wanted to have that straight life everyone expected me to have. I truly wanted to stop liking guys and start liking girls. I couldn't, so I took matters into my own hands. I forced myself to be 'straight'. So much so that I made up ridiculous excuses to justify to myself that I was not gay. I told myself it was just a phase. That teenagers are confused, and this would pass eventually.
It was clear that it would not pass when I started to have physical contact with others - first with boys, and much later with girls - so I made a whole bunch of other excuses and theories. Despite the fact that I was actually having sex with boys, I insisted on convincing myself that I was not gay by believing I would only do with them what I could not physically do with girls. For instance, every time I had sex with a guy, I would always bottom. Never top. Because, in my mind, girls had no penises, so I was getting something girls could not give me. I could put my dick into a girl, so I didn't 'need' to do that with a guy. It would be a choice, not a necessity. And that choice would be the thing that would make me gay. THAT would be the thing that would “turn” me into a homosexual. In my mind, the minute I kissed a guy, or the moment I put my dick inside a guy’s bum, that would be it. I knew that deep down inside I wanted to do it, I wanted to be swept off my feet and be kissed by a guy, I wanted my prince charming to show up to rescue me in the end, to experience everything I could do with them, but I fought against it with all the strength I could muster. So I jerked off, thinking about how much I wanted to kiss and to fuck men, in every position imaginable. Thinking about it also didn’t make me gay, apparently... I should also note that I didn’t know about pegging at the time, to be fair.
This desire was especially strong with the jocks. That kind of handsome and well built, popular with the girls, leader of the boys - and often the bullies. I was equally attracted and terrified of the jocks. I masturbated compulsively thinking about them, and the idea of being with one was like a dream to me. I dream I knew would never come true. One, because they were probably not into boys; two, even if they were, they would not be into me - a chubby, awkward teenager with a lame life and a face full of acne - akin to the surface of a cheese grater. And three, if they would get even the hint that I was into them, I was sure that they would punch me or something, or they would tell everyone and humiliate me in public. Or maybe both - beat me and tell everyone why I deserved it.
L’amour Toujours - Gigi D’Agostino
Comments
Post a Comment