I hear people talk about how I must know what I want, what I don’t.
Being anything is about knowing who you are.
And people speak in analogies, to get others to understand, and I appreciate that, because analogies, symbolism, these are the things that make up my thoughts. I think in representations and drifting rivers, and lazily pour into different streams.
So why is it that I can’t think of an analogy here?
I’m told I’m confused, one day I’ll learn that I’m either straight or gay.
I’m told I’m confused, one day I’ll learn that I’m either male or female.
I’m told I’m confused, one day I’ll learn to discern my feelings from love and sex and friendship and art.
Well I’ll tell you:
Damn right I’m confused!
I’m confused as to how anyone can ever separate these things.
There is so much skin to see and feel in this world. The contours of muscle, the soft yield of fat, the sharp divots of bone. I could map them with my eyes and hands and mouth all my life, and honestly while many imply that as a sexual thing, it took a long time for me to see it that way.
As a child I didn’t think about sex, I wasn’t aroused by people. But I wanted to touch them, wanted to explore them.
I wanted to feel the soft give of my hands against thighs and breasts, I wanted my hands to mold over the muscular planes of backs, or the thin valleys between ribs. I wanted to watch my fingers sink gently into the folds of flesh people had- bellies and love handles, squishy cheeks and arms.
Every shape, every size, every colour, every type.
Every person was fascinating and beautiful to me and I wanted to know every part of every one of them.
I remember being five years old and musing out loud about how I wanted to run my hands over skin, and then press my lips against the same trail to feel if there was a difference.
I remember a teacher pulling me aside and telling me that was inappropriate talk, and I shouldn’t be thinking them at all.
But It took years for me to understand why.
Even after I’d learned what sex was, it took years of learning the improprieties of society before it ever occurred to me that my fascination with everyone’s form was considered a perversion.
I remember from about ten years old on, I was drawing sex, watching and reading porn; I was obsessed with it.
And I had masturbated, I understood how to give myself pleasure and I enjoyed it and did it often, had for many years, possibly my whole life.
But it was a separate world.
I was fifteen the first time I actually thought to combine the two.
I never understood why it was seen as so strange that I loved how bodies looked and felt and worked. I drew skeletons embracing, musculatures wrestling, and so, so much porn.
But even though it was people having sex, it WASN’T sex to me, it was exploration.
The idea wasn’t to get off, or procreate, the idea was how bodies melded and reacted.
I was fascinated by how people worked.
And as I grew older and sex and romance became more active parts of my life, they fed off that fascination.
Now I didn’t just want to explore people, I wanted to love them.
I wanted to fear them and adore them, to fight and cry and hold tight, to hate them and need them.
I wanted to roam my eyes my hands my mouth over everyone’s skin, and then delve deep into their minds with my words.
I wanted to love these simple, complicated, fascinating creatures.
I wanted to be one of them.
And that was something that concerned many teachers and counselors over the years.
I know I’m human, I’d never really seen myself as a person, because by defintion, a person to me was a being of their own autonomous life and being, outside of my own. And if I was n my own, how could I learn more about me? How could I be a person to explore? Or for that matter, how could I be a person at all?
Growing up t was brought to my attention that others had crushes on people. “Well who do you have a crush on? No, you HAVE to have one on someone! So who is it?”
But I didn’t.
Or maybe the more correct answer would be I had one on EVERYONE.
Who could afford the childish indignation of someone you like not liking you, when I was too busy being enamoured by every single movement anyone around me made? Every thought and word, every expression on their faces, was precious and amazing and I loved them all so very much.
I had been through so much, I had been beaten, and abused; I’d been sexually taken advantage of at nine when was far too young to understand the implications. I had felt shame and anger and fear and resentment.
But despite that, even those I hated, felt magical to me.
Why did they hit me? Why did they say that mean thing? What were the thoughts or emotions or circumstances behind those decisions?
In essence, my entire goal was to explore everyone, I needed to know.
I started to relax some, I was no longer caught up in this sonderous whirlwind of needing to know the story and feelings and process behind every single person I could possibly come across in the world.
I started to think, maybe I could be a person? Maybe I could get to know me, what about me don’t I know??
So what many people had been asking and learning from themselves their entire lives, I was only just starting, and I had no idea.
What was my sexuality, what was my gender, how does one tell the difference between loving someone as a friend, loving someone as family, and loving someone romantically?
And where does sex tie into that? Does sex have to be legitimately sexual, do I have to have a libidinous drive behind it, because sometimes I do, but sometimes I just want to get swept away in that fascination of people.
Why is it that kissing feels uncomfortable to me when pressing my mouth against them feels right? Why does the idea of someone’s tongue in my mouth feel weird, but the idea of their genitals in my mouth okay?
What do I do if I think I love someone as friend or family, but not romantically, but I find myself also sexually attracted to them? Or if love someone romantically but I don’t want sex with them? What labels do I use, what actions do I take?
Or what about me without human interaction, what am I? Am I becoming a person now? Am I a boy or a girl? Am I both? Neither? Do I change?
What about what I like? What kinds of people am I sexually or romantically or platonically attracted to? Do I even know?
I had no idea, because unlike most others I knew, I had never begun to ask myself questions.
I didn’t even know little things, like what’s my favorite colour? Movie? Music genre? Book?
I hated this notion that I was supposed to have favorites of anything, when everything was too complex and multifaceted to be cut down to a simple one item answer.
What was a favorite colour when different scenery, moods and circumstances could change how it would look? What’s a favorite story/movie/song, when my emotions and understandings could easily tip the scale?
Why should I favor anything when it’s so free and beautiful to favor everything?
I’m older and wiser now, but honestly I still don’t have a lot of those answers. I have no idea if the flutter in my chest is because someone’s beautiful, or friendly, if want to kiss them or befriend them or fuck them or all three. Romance and Platonic love are so very much the same to me that I could date any of my friends, and stay friends with almost all of my ex-lovers.
And when I meet someone I’m never sure if what I’m feeling means I really want to date them, or really want to be their friend, or really want to be like them.
I don't understand most things actually, but I do know that I love everyone so very much, because really, that’s never changed.