SPEAKING ITS NAME
Hi, flist.
Well, it is the eve of the most important exams I have sat thus far in my life, so obviously I’m going to talk about
MY SEXUALITY.
Ahaha what is this “supposed to be applying for Oxford” of which you speak?
Anyway. For (*thinks*) probably about two years I have been seriously considering being a homosexual. Yes, I am pretty sure I like girls. But.
-Do I like boys as well?
-Would I actually prefer boys? (Please keep in mind the tragic fact that I have no meaningful experience whatsoever of either road.)
-Is this whole flailfest just an unfortunate consequence of more than a decade of single-sex educational establishments and a third-degree obsession with Oscar Wilde?
-And most importantly: If one can be influenced by the above factors to become gay, could one be influenced by other factors to become straight?
Right. Please don’t judge me, from either side. I know for a fact that there are many happy, healthy, all-around-lovely gay people in the world. But. It’s just. I would prefer not to be one of them. You can’t deny it’s inconvenient, for one thing. 5% or thereabouts of the population of this first-world, liberal country considers themselves gay. Therefore, 95% of prospective partners are out of the equation before you’ve even submitted your lonely heart column. And yes, there are other factors at play in this entirely self-indulgent and inappropriate extended panic attack, but to be honest I think the question itself is the important bit, not the reasons why I’m asking it.
But. Again. There’s this girl. She goes to my school and I started noticing her a while ago and she’s all tall and skinny and she has /cheekbones/. And also a boyfriend. With whom I accidentally and briefly saw her the other day and I had a face like a slapped bum in the middle of the street, which is ridiculous. Also she really needs to stop wearing long black skirts with heels because she looks like a nun and you can’t have a gay crush on the Ordained. You just can’t.
So obviously I really really need to get over her pronto. But. For the third time. I kind of don’t want to. Is that really weird? Masochistic? Wrong? I /like/ the fact that I’m hurt and obsessive and convinced I’ve embarrassed myself every time we have a conversation? I'm /nurturing/ it?
So, have fun with that one, flist. Over to you.