Sexual identity

[vaneramos]

Paperwhite narcissus given to me by Mom, blooming on my desk today.

Yesterday I downloaded and used LJArchive to back up my journal. It includes several analysis tools. Here is a list of the 25 words I have used most frequently, excluding common ones (e.g. articles, prepositions and conjunctions):

1. couple (306)


2. marian (302)
   
3. danny (290)
   
4. today (289)
   
5. toronto (268)
   
6. brenna (232)
   
7. parents
   
8. guelph
   
9. gay
   
10. favourite
    
11. yesterday
    
12. river
    
13. summer
    
14. someone
    
15. mom
    
16. post
    
17. later
    
18. music
    
19. weekend
    
20. daughters
    
21. mdash
    
22. lake
    
23. journal
    
24. cottage
    
25. photo

What follows is a capricious response to trapezebear's post, whatever.

~~~~~~~~~~

What am I? It's so simple to say I'm gay. Some people like to drop identities, but I hold onto it like a lost treasure, a diamond that fell from a ring and lay under the corner of the bathroom cabinet for months until someone saw sunlight glinting off its facets. The word has meant so much to my life, shaping fear, misery, desire, loneliness, ecstasy, fulfilment, love, connection. I tried to use the B word once. I was obfuscating the fact that I really couldn't feel that way toward women.

And yet I did. Yes, I have loved women. Several. Fell in love with my wife the first day back to work after we got home from our honeymoon. I walked through the door of the sun porch in that old brick Paisley house, saw the hardwood floor in the hall with worn blue Persian carpet from my grandparents. Right there it happened, hearing her voice through echoing rooms. Yes I can, but would I let it happen ever again? Undoubtedly there is choice involved, but mine was so laced with danger, falling, leaving my heart open to one who acted like a cornered animal. That is gone, and I will never go back.

Even the sex. In dark rooms she wouldn't look at me. I lay with eyes closed thinking of dog shit to hold off my orgasm, thinking of anything but pleasure to make the pleasure last long enough so she could cum. And she did every time, but in the end despised me for wanting to please her so badly.

God, such dark chasms! Another life, so not me. I can never return. Yes, it is partly a choice.

Closets? Closets are for stuffing. You know, with toys, stuffed animals, dirty laundry, clean laundry. Whatever has no place.

In the house where we lived in Windsor when I was a little boy my bedroom had a closet where a giant lurked. He was bigger than the whole house, but he fit in that closet, neatly alongside my embryonic sexuality. Closets are for big unspoken things. I was a child who would rather leave the door open so I could see inside, but at night it revealed only shadows.

I was a tortured homosexual who was never really closeted; told every friend about my problem. Came out to my parents when I was 19. I said I wanted help. They just told me to be happy, but never spoke about it again for years. We conveniently left it on a closet shelf alongside bills, a coin collection and shoes no one ever wore. We could go back whenever we needed it, but my family never needed to look at that.

Later it became almost a badge of pride to tell other Christians I struggled with homosexuality. It gave me a cross to bear along with Jesus, a special kind of pilgrimage. Still people would rather not speak about it. It's a strange dilemma to be proud of suffering.

I only had to let go, stop holding onto worthless things; prizes and cartons in the back of the cupboard. Such a relief to stop holding, hiding, twisting and making myself want pussy while thinking of dog shit.

So much better just to dive into sex whole-heartedly and lavish it, lap it, soak it up right to the very last pinpoint of ecstasy. No inhibitions, no guilt. So I am gay.

Now I arrive at the bottom of the well, surprised that the strange flood empties out cracks until there's nothing left. No orientation really, nothing at all. Still, the beauty of a man catches my eye. I collect porn, but what does it mean?

I happen to love a man. At his touch I feel better than anything. There I go. Wow. Man lover.

Comments

[vaneramos.livejournal.com]

Thanks and hugs, V. :-)

[ciddyguy.livejournal.com]

Thanks for sharing.

What I love about LJ is when reading someone's journal, such as yours are the occasional cross postings. I found it very interesting and fascinating in how trapezebear described his early sexual experience by visualizing dog shit etc and his overal conclusion that he's gay had me thinking.

When I was in the process of coming out back in 2001, I skipped over the Bi mode and went straight (sic) to being Gay. :-)

The reason? I never could see myself invading a woman's vagina and makeup turns me completely off as well. I know that sounds trivial, but that's the way it is with me.

[vaneramos.livejournal.com]

Um, you have confused stuff between my post and trapezebear's. You won't catch Pete skipping "Bi mode." ;-)

[daisydumont.livejournal.com]

her refusing to look at you sounds very sad. it's so good that you're happy now.

[vaneramos.livejournal.com]

Yes, I have something that makes it all worthwhile.

[vaneramos.livejournal.com]

P.S. I'm glad to hear from you. Big hugs to you.

[daisydumont.livejournal.com]

thank you! i'm feeling a little steadier today. won't be long till i'm back to posting, i think. :)

*hug!*

[leafshimmer.livejournal.com]

Powerful and moving.

In the world in which we live, it seems increasingly as if everything conspires to try and keep us from being true to our Selves. Humble though that truth often manifests itself in our waking and dreaming lives, there's a heroic quality to the stance that allows one to live true.

Michael Bronski wrote a poignant memoir about Sontag and her failure to come out in her public life. He quoted where she wrote about how much you give up when you "cut yourself off from the mainstream" by embracing a moral, personal, or aesthetic stance that is to on the bias from what is accepted by standards of social respectability. Her topic was choosing to oppose the War (even though, for example, doing so might be perceived as unpatriotic, even traitorous), but he speculated she might have been pondering how much she would lose if she came out.

To me, I have lost nothing, but gained so much, by living an honest life.

[dakoopst.livejournal.com]

How the HELL do you write like this? *shakes head in amazement*

Van, I am once again amazed and touched by your journal. Thank you so much for this.

[vaneramos.livejournal.com]

I don't know much about Sontag, but I know that as a writer I struggle every day with honesty. I learned years ago that in order to write powerfully I had to be willing to say things that would make people uncomfortable, even myself. Being a somewhat non-political creature, this calls me instead to tell honest stories. Not necessarily the utter truth, but genuine at the heart. In some ways this is a sacrifice: I give up the luxury of privacy about my deepest thoughts and feelings. At times I feel like I'm naked at a party of well-dressed people. There are times when unspeakable shame raises its serpent head.

We have to make compromises to pursue the things most important to us. No doubt, if Sontag had been more open about her private life, it would have distracted from the message she cared about the most. Obviously she was not a coward.

[laura-borealis.livejournal.com]

Thank you. This is beautiful.

[vaneramos.livejournal.com]

By forcing myself to keep going, one word flowing into a sentence, followed by another. After 15 minutes I will stop and give myself the luxury of cutting out a few extraneous words, or perhaps a statement that I really do not believe. But during the 15 minutes of writing I try really, really hard not to stop or edit myself. This way the individual words and ideas lose their weight and preciousness. It's like closing your eyes and trusting your other senses.

[vaneramos.livejournal.com]

You're most welcome. Thanks for your words.

[dakoopst.livejournal.com]

Hmmm...I'll have to try that sometime.

[vaneramos.livejournal.com]

My writing habits are largely inspired by Natalie Goldberg's book, Writing Down the Bones. It's fun to read, and her principles can be applied to any creative endeavour, even teaching and spirituality. Sometimes we can talk about how to approach poetry writing this way.

[willowing.livejournal.com]

Mighty interesting thoughts and well written.

I myself have had relationships with both men and women and I don't call myself "anything", I don't consider my heterosexual/ homosexual or bi-sexual. I suppose, I am human-sexual. ;)

Not many people like me doing that, they want me to label myself (safer for them I suppose), while I always say: 'look, for me it's about people, and not about what hangs between their legs or not, sex with men or women, imo, is merely a technical difference, and for me, it is a minor technicality. If I love the person, then that's great, their gender to me, is neither here nor there.'

:)

Of course, this is so very different for each individual, and all I hope is that we can all simply accept and respect these differences as long as they are consented and not hurting others in the process.

Thanks for sharing your own views and experiences.

[vaneramos.livejournal.com]

Beautiful! The world will be a better place when we can all approach sexuality from the same perspective, i.e. diversity is good and labels are relatively unimportant. Thanks for sharing this. Sometimes I don't realize what cool friends I have. :-)

[enzie.livejournal.com]

This was beautifully written. Thank you for writing it.

[vaneramos.livejournal.com]

Thanks for visiting. :-)