“Do you understand?
I can’t love a woman.
Do you know what I mean?
I can’t love a woman.
Do you know what I mean?
My body can love them, but
my interest in them is purely
intellectual. I have never
wanted a woman since
the day I was born. I have
never seen a woman and
wanted her. Just the same
I have deluded myself about
it, and now I have deceived
an innocent girl in the bargain.”
- Yukio Mishima, Forbidden Colours
No one talks of the expectation of being male, they just see the flip side where you can distort everything without realizing how strict the expectations are and pushed upon to dominate nothing in particular and be distant from all the ways, end up being some cardboard reflection of everything you could be. You get told that women can be anything at all and it’s great but it ends up falling that because being all you want to be gets pushed onto the fact that if you want that you might not be a man at all, for pushing yourself further just like a woman had tried on pants for some reason make-up and skirts always made you less of a man because then it wouldn’t be desired and hearing that from women as you’d grow up
“Why do you look so masculine”
“Why are you wearing make-up”
Because you could never be a man if you had wanted to be one. It was like a medical test. How did some pass with bad eyesight?
And in the end it becomes an identity crisis because you don’t fit in and then you wonder heavily until your eyes are yanked open either by a lover or yourself to what you would see in the mirror, regardless of how you look like because by the end of the day it’s just appearance which we get off on regardless of how much facial hair would I grow in a week, how much acne I would get by the end of the day under layers of cover ups when I would feel like it or laying face down in a pillow screaming to get rid of the anxiety-
Joining him for a drink makes me a bit uneasy as I would never do this back in my hometown let alone his as a I presume but since we’re close to the theatre and the centre, maybe we’re let to slip as actors and I just cross my legs, scanning through the plastic menu, not too excitedly as the other man looks back at me.
“Miles.” He says and I take it as his name, feeling my phone vibrate guessing that it could be another useless notification to a pictureless grindr profile. I don’t think I’ll ever see what people would pin me to the bed for but I am deeply thankful for that.
“Alex.” Which feels more common and basic than it should be, as when I had tried women they seemed to be amused by the name which I would guarantee a bunch of their exes shared as well. Life seems to be heavy recycling of sexual orientation and identity as everything seems to be pushing away from you being yourself just because being a gay man isn’t too trendy enough these days since all can be pinned upon the gay man, because others can be shut or forced to scream in unison therefore avoided. It had been odd to finally come back to men that I recall with the body reminding of the marks left all over it and quick wonders if any lovebites had been left on the stomach and the bruise on the back, that there was indeed a harsh difference between the gender of lovers and it seemed much more simple up to the point that I had forgotten how easy it had been.
But the answer is simple, you don’t teach a fish how to ride a bicycle which I had been doing to myself.
And when you’re confused you won’t speak.
The first make-up product I tried was mascara for the sole reason that it was subtle and it was when I thought that men had to look as if they would be on the cover of Esquire and they wore mascara on the covers, their make-up was subtle but I had wanted something more and I knew that I had no other identity like they claimed if they had been a drag queen and I was sure that I was a man, allowing myself to dive into the calming thought that most men did it anyway and that never made them less of being a man. And I didn’t understand why I had to even question my gender due to a small product on my face and how come that wasn’t manly when I would clean shave and end up with nude lipstick at first until I couldn’t hold and would go for red and know who I had been. Heels came and went in shoes, because the world was more versatile for it thankfully, but make-up stayed. I watch Miles, wondering what had his been.
And it never really matters whether it’s silence between you both which attracts you, but it’s usually a snap of a few seconds were possibly if you could capture in a frame all the relationship would make sense no matter how short and to which extent it is dragged upon.
And it seems to make a bit of sense, as we both drag on to some sticky conversations, both softly waiting for any sexual innuendo. I wonder where had our dinner went or do we just have a different appetite which isn’t even properly discussed. I recall when I had just understood that pretty much nearly all are just interested in hooking up and I realized that coming back with messages to other men was utterly useless and even a tad bit embarrassing for me. Very often so I don’t even know what to speak of, as we both finish our glass. Miles then stands up and I wonder how would it even feel to be underneath him, how do you even invite? But he still invites, claiming with nothing that the conversations would be all over.
We walk outside and everything feels rather torn and I wonder how the hell did I even manage to grow up here and manage to believe in anything and that oh so many years later I would even manage to get laid again, as if something within me had changed to get laid here which I wasn’t able to when I was growing up. And I wonder if it’s the light or any inner clock in my at all and maybe I had just removed it’s glass face from my chest and revealed myself, because no one wants a wrapped candy without knowing the insides.
“Do you have any preference?” Miles asks me straight forward so that I don’t even flinch and instead I motion for him to tell his preferences since just like most nights I feel versatile and wondering how thick someone else’s bones are.
I decided on a quote actually nearly on the last minute and instead of writing much more than the 200 words left, I ended up in a frantic search of what is it that I should even post as a quote here.
I kind of wanted to close the topic of sexuality by using it really which is from Mishima and this novel kind of goes through out coz it built me and still does as a man. And I cannot claim I was never attracted to women, but it's something I envy because I've done my fair mistakes in the past unlike Yuichi who never was attracted. But anyway, it was decided to answer the questions of sexuality since we have to speak of women for some unholy reason when we talk of men. Like the question of identity, I frankly will admit that I got dragged into (pun) RuPaul's Drag Race and it's hella fun, I'll be honest but there's frankly so much problematic shit but I'll aggree with Carmen Carrera it still sheds light on an important aspect of gay culture which is drag. So kind of watching it sometimes I feel restrcited, why should I be admiring women and only doing make up in character? Hey, everyone is different and I know that make-up is a part of the man who I am, which I've discussed numerously and dug really deep why exactly since everyone gives a fuck.
I'm sorry if I'm repetative but one of the things which really fucked me up and held back me coming out as male was the whole sense that you are a woman if you have a vagina, that no one allows "women" to be men if you must say that distortedly, that it's always women and since I was a part of the lesbian community you have such gems as stone butch which is frankly a pure disaster and I was flicking through the memoir Stone Butch Blues and I am so thankful I don't think I'm a butch anymore because it's just so fucked up and toxic to not allow transmasculine people to understand who they are just to keep them under the female umbrella and the same happens with Mulan for instance, doesn't matter how much you scream male, you can be a woman, you can't be a man, so I kind of spoke about that here.
And I'm annoyed that it's like then it becomes an identity crisis because you should be either in suits or a lumberjack and that's it to be male, when being male is much more and as wide as it is to be a woman (understandingly, not fucking Stone Butch Blues).
I solely wore mascara with very nude-esque make-up and I love just plain mascara on men (hey, Grimmy) so I kind of gave that to Alex in the story. It's surely a fun look if you play with it accordingly.
I kind of speak really clear everywhere else and I've been much more open I think at least on life outlooks rather than life situations these days. I added the preference coz I didn't want to forget where to go later and how exactly.
I hope you enjoyed it and if you did, please please tell me so