On Sexual Identity
During a conversation with a distant but close friend I was asked the seemingly straightforward task of defining my sexual identity. “I’m straight, of course!” was my reply. This was before I had ever been with another man and before I masturbated to closed eyed fantasies of being on my knees for a man, and before I was confronted with the idea of forced bisexual acts by a Domme, and before… well, you get the picture.
Like all of life for me, my sexual identity has been an evolving and an ever deepening expression of my being. A reveal-ation (revelation) of my being before me over time and shared with those partners whom have blessed me with trust toward that sacred time… or just wanted a good fuck.
Today I see my sexual identity as something more than sexual acts with persons of particular gender or gender in flux. There were four typical identities that I grew up: heterosexual – sharing sexual activity with someone of the opposite gender; homosexual - sharing sexual activity with someone of the same gender; bisexual - sharing sexual activity with someone of both genders; and weirdos (trannies, CDs, pre-ops, and the like). All of these revolve around sexual contact with people of physical gender.
Just after my divorce, when I decided for the first time in my life that I was going to live for my sexual happiness and leave no exploration unexhausted until I decided if it was for me or not, I had to ask the late-in-life question to myself “what sexual experience would lead me to a place of knowledge of sexual completeness?”. Or similar questions less heady… questions like: “What would it be like to have another man (fill in the blank) me?”, “Does masturbating to merely a fantasy about a man make me bi even if I haven’t actually done it with a guy before?”, and the flat out decision to seek out another man’s company without going through with it yet. And not leave out my desire thoughts towards my gender-in-flux friends… “Damn chicks with dicks are hot!!”
These are only questions, fantasies, and where I find my pleasing eyes lurking… They didn’t make me bi, gay or heaven forbid a freak do they? Even before any action? Did they? Hmmm.
Well fellow kinksters, the present day answer is (drum roll please)… “Who cares?!” That’s right. Who cares! And more to the point of where I’m at in this definition crazed world is that I’m beyond trying to get my mind around what pigeonhole to fit in. I’ll give you that definitions are a very necessary and convenient evil in this world, but at the end of the day (don’t you hate that phrase) the category doesn’t change my passion or give meaning to my life. My partners do. They are the ones that speak life into my being. They are the ones that paint vibrant color from their palettes to my canvas.
Yes, Virginia, there is a Santa Clause! And he has brought to me the ability to be gentle with myself as I have a rockin’ good time arriving to the destination of being comfortable in my own skin and being in love with this body God has given me. Even more than that, I don’t have any greater hardship with choice of having a female, male or trans gendered partner than I do with whether I will have OJ, V8 or coffee with my breakfast. All are delectably wonderful in their own way and put before me to be consumed.
Yes, women will always turn my head first, men will get my attention, and trannies… send me an email. Define that!
Bon Appétit
