I am gay.
In fact, very gay.
I would say this is my coming out... that is, if everyone didn’t know I was as queer as a three-dollar bill.
I remember my first girl crush; I was 12 years old, with hair like Janis Joplin and teeth lined with more metal than a junkyard. I was a huge dork. It was the new girl in my middle school, she drifted into our classroom like tumbleweed and I was immediately speared by Cupid’s tiny arrow. She was just so beautiful, probably the most beautiful woman I had seen in my oh-so-short life, even in knee-high socks and a green kilt. We were peas and carrots, always together, causing mischief and drama wherever we went. I never understood how much I liked her until I got older, and realized that our deep friendship masked a more powerful emotion that I couldn’t describe. Until now. If you are reading this (yes, you, always reading this shit on my Facebook), thanks for the gay memories.
I never dated women in high school, mostly because I was the world’s largest pussy. Many beautiful women batted a gracious eye in my direction, and I just evolved back to that dorky 12-year-old self, shaking in my skirt, biting my tongue. Now, I couldn’t care less, the shit is not given, the fucks are not flying. I am confident to say that I will date and fuck anyone I want. Including men.
Oh, did I not mention?
I love men.
I love dick.
(If you are a friend of mine reading this, you know it’s true).
In the eyes of the LGBT+++ community, I am bisexual, or in snowflake terms, a heteronomy, cisgender pansexual.
Now, I don’t know about you, but I don’t need the laundry list of ‘identities’ rattled off in my Tumblr bio. I don’t need these identities to feel like I belong somewhere.
That’s the problem I have with the LGBT community.
I am tired of the labels.
I am tired of people asking me my pronouns.
I am tired of people asking about if I like dick or pussy better.
I am tired of people asking me my sexual orientation.
I am tired of people asking me about my coming out story.
I am tired of people labeling me like a carton of fags, forgoing a possible trigger warning.
I am tired of the gays discriminating against the trans men because they aren’t real men.
I am tired of the lipstick lesbians telling me I’m not manly enough to fuck them.
I am tired of the dykes telling me I am not gay enough.
I am tired of being proud to be gay, just like I am tired of black pride and white pride, because it’s all deadly in my eyes.
It’s not a
family; it’s a clique, just like high school. People use their gender, their sexual orientation to define who they are and stand out among the millions or people who think they are special. I don’t want to be bisexual; I believe you are gay and straight (however, I do believe in being transgender). I don’t want to be branded as the bi girl or the gay girl, just the crazy, fun girl. Honestly, all I want is to fuck whoever I want and not have people question my sexuality (because if you are attractive, you are clear in my book).
I am a gay girl. This will be the only time I use this to identify myself, because I am tired of the LGBT community and their prejudice against straight people, cisgender people, trans people, and just everyone. Their cries of equality and acceptance resonate from their soap boxes, but their words appear to be muted to their own ears.
I guess they choose to keep their eyes wide shut.
There will be no trigger warning. Go ahead and be offended, I like the publicity.