I'm Not Gay- The Red Lipstick Blues.
Ok, so
For a little bit, a while, perhaps a forced period during which I was in this sexually frustrated angry "I’m Gay?" phase I thought for SURE I was a lesbian.... I thought: I don’t like men near me. I don’t like men at all.... I obsessed over it, I settled into a nice, comforting idea of which I made myself Gay.....with this new found love of Vagina, I took my little self to The FINGER ELEVEN concert. Slightly confused as to why I'd bother dressing up. Or why I had bothered to do my hair or paint my lips Bright Red......
SO, As I entered, I remarked at how small a venue this is, how close to the stage we were....then I realized I was standing just feet away from James Black, Just..... One 6'3 man blocking my view away..... The boy sweats, the boy Plays music. The boy has sexy lips; the boy has chest hair... and a other, boy parts not particularly valuable to a new found purely Lesbian lifestyle
Why was I Swooning? Why was I day dreaming about ... (insert very wrong sexually explicit fantasy here (And oddly enough it didn't involve WOW or Star Trek...))
Why am I a new found Lesbian Drooling, near orgasm at the mere sight of this.... sweaty, hairy, grunting, man! This... Amazing Primitive Instinct in me…This sort of primal flag went up. This rhythmic impulse
This man, all sweaty and masculine completely blind and forever oblivious to my lust became some how the embodiment of my sexuality. It was liberating, perhaps invigorating in a completely non feminist kind of way, Not in the inner personal liberation sort of way.
It was in a completely instinctual Animalistic Discovery Channel attraction, this sudden itch, this want for sweaty naked man. It was there and gone in a moment’s time, I was left with the assurance that I am not a lesbian. Not fully anyways. And a bad case of The Red Lipstick Blues. (When you want something you cannot have) Perhaps He caught a glims of me from behind the tall man just left of his guitar, perhaps he didn't, Perhaps he'd remember the pink flower in my hair, Perhaps he wont.....and perhaps He'd never know how he helped redefin one short red head girl's sexuality.
Oh what a wonderful musical orgasm. I would trade it for nothing.
For a little bit, a while, perhaps a forced period during which I was in this sexually frustrated angry "I’m Gay?" phase I thought for SURE I was a lesbian.... I thought: I don’t like men near me. I don’t like men at all.... I obsessed over it, I settled into a nice, comforting idea of which I made myself Gay.....with this new found love of Vagina, I took my little self to The FINGER ELEVEN concert. Slightly confused as to why I'd bother dressing up. Or why I had bothered to do my hair or paint my lips Bright Red......
SO, As I entered, I remarked at how small a venue this is, how close to the stage we were....then I realized I was standing just feet away from James Black, Just..... One 6'3 man blocking my view away..... The boy sweats, the boy Plays music. The boy has sexy lips; the boy has chest hair... and a other, boy parts not particularly valuable to a new found purely Lesbian lifestyle
Why was I Swooning? Why was I day dreaming about ... (insert very wrong sexually explicit fantasy here (And oddly enough it didn't involve WOW or Star Trek...))
Why am I a new found Lesbian Drooling, near orgasm at the mere sight of this.... sweaty, hairy, grunting, man! This... Amazing Primitive Instinct in me…This sort of primal flag went up. This rhythmic impulse
This man, all sweaty and masculine completely blind and forever oblivious to my lust became some how the embodiment of my sexuality. It was liberating, perhaps invigorating in a completely non feminist kind of way, Not in the inner personal liberation sort of way.
It was in a completely instinctual Animalistic Discovery Channel attraction, this sudden itch, this want for sweaty naked man. It was there and gone in a moment’s time, I was left with the assurance that I am not a lesbian. Not fully anyways. And a bad case of The Red Lipstick Blues. (When you want something you cannot have) Perhaps He caught a glims of me from behind the tall man just left of his guitar, perhaps he didn't, Perhaps he'd remember the pink flower in my hair, Perhaps he wont.....and perhaps He'd never know how he helped redefin one short red head girl's sexuality.
Oh what a wonderful musical orgasm. I would trade it for nothing.