"They're all straight, until you get their lips on your c__k."
Him, the 45 year old, I never did blame - how could I, since I wanted it, initiated it, enthusiastically participated?
I only balked at a few of the more disgusting requests, and most of those I did save one, and also when he suggested I run away from home. I could make some good money, he said.
See, I was trained in servicing men from age 4. Foster system then adopted, rent from the nipple and longing to suck, that urge still embodied, the flesh and warm and smooth was, standing before him, finally satisfied.
And by the time of the aforementioned sodomy, I'd had my own lover for a few years. I didn't like kissing, or really anything else but servicing him.
A regular Protein Queen, the sodomite paedophile called me, to return. He didn't last long, but I was a magnet for so many others.
Heteroflexible throughout my teens, it wasn't until I started thinking about how to get my little brother to come around that I snapped out of it, in shock and horror at what I was on the brink of doing, becoming. A few furtive incidents, with older men whose faces I never saw, and then I stuffed it back down for years.
Tried relationships with women.
But then, the gloryholes...but then, HIV. All you pups don't know what you missed, what it was like when sex couldn't bloodily well kill you. An embarrassing questionnaire, a tired health care professional, a painful shot and you're good to go.
Now, you act the way I did back then you die. And if you think that you 'just get medication', think again bitches. Ask around.
So yeah, you're probably wondering what the hell the point of this overshare is, and to be honest, so was I there for a bit, but the needle is back in the groove on the record, and here's the music O my brothers: I choose my own sexuality, and you can take a flying fawk at a rolling donut if you don't like it. See?
Because it is, while dangerous if performed indiscriminately, far and away more expedient for me to get my sex on with a man, than contend with the ocean of nonsense that women portend.
Far less competition, far easier sexual conversation, much less emotional entanglement and zero problematic pregnancy. Pure, rational, energetic, expedient, and (all other matters equal), risk-free sexual release.
And it is far, far easier to find a man who is interested solely in sex. Women lie.
As Louis CK said: A man will rip your arm off, beat you to death with it, and then throw it in the river...but then, you're done. It's over. A woman? A woman will shit inside of your heart.
True story, Louis. In the context I'm speaking, one must deal with prissy, queenie fagboys, but my tastes personally don't run to sexual aesthetics, as elsewhere, and I avoid that set. BDSM and related nonsense is all very well, but the substance, please. Not the fashion show. Sorry, a digression.
Now, all of that said you orientationalists and postmodern gehmongers and christianite sodomy apologists, please listen up to what I have to say, because it's a wild ride, and I've already said it but here's your too long didn't read:
you don't get to define my sexuality for me
And I don't fit into your dystopic octal framework of LGBTQXYZ. Not one bit.
I like the cawk, yes I do and I can love a man or a woman but women are far more comprehensively bothersome and a shit lot of work, and but for the grace of God, I am at the gloryhole, tonight, swallowing viral loads, see?
Because, poz me up bro, I am tired of being affrighted. Waiting for it to happen.
You don't get to call me bisexual or gay or heteronormative or any other damn thing, because I was taught to be a fag from age 4 on up.
(the last two years were the best, ok get this - he would just stand there, and I could hear him breathing. never touch me. that was the best, and the bit that makes me still have sleep rituals)
(all that, while having a regular gay lover before I had pubes, writing love poems to women and dreaming about girls in class alternated with a picture of Michelangelo's statue of David seen once in a book for wank fodder...see what I mean? even tumblr doesn't have a label for me)
Nope, sorry, you don't get to tell me what I am. I know what I am, I paid a high price to be me, and I don't subscribe to anyone's versioning of my sexual identity.
I'm a man, made for a woman (figured out what went where at age 3 being bathed with my sister, oh! I thought, that makes sense) and I can as easily have sex with a man as I can with a sheep or a slice of liver or a FleshlightTM - doesn't make me something or any other thing)
I'm a sinner, saved by grace, and my sexuality is warped, and I am depraved not only thus but in my character, as a recipient of Grace, I know that I am only fit for eternity through the regeneration of the Spirit of God.
And that Spirit precludes the hypocrisy of homosexuality and the narrative of sexual identity. We must come clean of our idols, before that Majesty.
We must repent.
Now, this viewpoint of mine, insofar as I have spoken of things not based on pure Scripture and exposited my personal views as to why I think this narrative (of contemporary sexual identity) to be a sad, wastrel's farce, is based on a few things.
One, that fences make good neighbours. I love the brotherhood of men, the freedom to exist and unwind absent sexual innuendo, and responsbility, and care and attention (the women's-only gym members know exactly what I mean, here) and I do not wish to remove ancient boundary stones.
Two, and far more important, basic frigging anatomy, son! Newsflash: the clitoris. It's just that simple, all the single ladies are nodding. All the married women are hoping. All the men are squirming, hoping it's not true.
To return, what - you want a muscular chest? There are women like that.
Hairy legs? Just like there is a subset of men who secretly desire the freedom to fart and belch where they damned well please, there is a subset of women who secretly wish they never had to fiddle with a razor again. I guarantee you, they exist.
My point is that when you say to me, "I'm Gay,", I think, "You're Boring."
Because, like that paedophile sodomizer all those years ago, I get my lips on your johnson you're not...quite...straight...any more.
And the matter isn't some spectrum or binary or sequence of upper case consonants as ill defined and unsupported by scientific findings as it is laughable, irresponsible, disingenuous and false, it's a matter of sin before a holy God who calls us to righteousness and repentance.
And if these two can find love and understanding and acceptance for their differentness, anybody can.
I'm not that special, and chances are O reader, neither are you.
So I repent of my twisted sexuality before Him, and say that His ways are right and my ways are deadly, and that had I and those around me listened to Him, I wouldn't be in the fix I am now.
I wouldn't be unmarriageable, alone, regretful - a species of warning to others, a parable and a lesson to be learned from.
I'd be a mutually loved Grandfather, by now. Instead, I'm a lonely, middle-aged man kicking a porn and drug habit, with tastes which are, while receding due to hardass abstention, quite inimical to the faith I hold dear.
So, self-professed gay christian, think twice before you assign me a a label. You don't define me and you never will, I defy your paltry, pathetic attempts to make yourself feel better at my expense. Go eat a dick. Seriously.
And you non-gay-identifying 'christian' who thinks yourself morally superior in whingeing about gay rights and marriage for cheap points in worldly circles, you are exactly the sort of Pharisee that Jesus referred to, who places grievous burdens on the backs of others, but will not lift a finger to help.
You all, you in particular now that I think of it, should go eat a big bag of dicks, too. And reach for seconds, and find out the meaning of what it is you so blithely prescribe for others.
You make me sick, every last one of you, who presume to change God's design for marriage and family and sexuality.
I hate you from the bottom of my cynical, jaded, bedwetting-firesetting-crueltytoanimals, psychotic and functionally sociopathic heart.
tl;dr: please note that suggestions however well-intentioned of therapy will be met with a downvote and scorn