Dear Mister and/or Missus Sender

I've been thinking about gender and sexuality recently (recently here having the meaning of "pretty much since I hit high school and realised it was an issue"). A lot of the process involves wanting to know more about... well, everything, because I feel that I've taken more things for granted than I should.

Let's take these one issue at a time, shall we?

Gender first. I've always distinguished the point between sex and gender because there's a huge difference: how you view yourself versus what you've got to work with. For me, it's never been an issue, and that's because I never questioned it. I had internal sex organs, so my parents bought me dresses and bows and pretty things and grew my hair long, but they never mentioned it; nobody ever said explicitly "you are a girl and this is how girls are". I never thought to challenge the assumption that "female" on the outside matched "female" on the inside. Thus, the truth of it is that I don't think of myself in terms of gender. I am a human being that happens to have internal sex organs, breasts, and what are considered more feminine psychical features. It's external. Internally I might as well be air.

The exception to this truth— because for me, it is reality— is when I find myself attracted to a guy, which brings me to the second issue. I went to Catholic school growing up, but I also lived in San Francisco, so it brought about an interesting juxtaposition in terms of sexuality. I knew that there were men who were attracted to men and women who were attracted to women and both attracted to both (the whole "there is no such thing as bisexual" argument is bullocks), but nobody ever talked about it. The Church views homosexuality as a sin—which is one of the reasons I do not put stock in organised religion, but that's another argument— so I never really learned about it. When I went to high school, I learned some, mostly through experience. But all of everything I know about sexuality and sexual orientation is theory, except for that sick desire to... I still haven't really figured it out. I wouldn't know what to do with a boyfriend or girlfriend. All I know is that something in me urges me to try and be close with someone.

However, I've been questioning more. Why should I limit myself to a label and a social norm just because other people say it's right? I see beautiful women all the time and appreciate all of them. I see beautiful men all the time and appreciate them as well. And no, I will not change the adjective for genders, because I don't think I should have to. When I look at someone, I see a person. Not a male or a female or a transsexual. Not gay, straight, or otherwise.

I've gotten away from an idea here that I meant to bring up, so I'll backtrack. I never think of myself in terms of female until I'm attracted to someone (and I mean enough to make me question the whole meaning of existence as to why I feel that way). It happens most with guys because that's happened more often. When I'm into a guy, I have to think about the outside: how messy my hair is, how much skin I'm showing, how much makeup I'm wearing, whether I'm wearing makeup, how my body looks in my clothes, covering up the parts about myself I hate. It all makes life complicated because of three things. I'm trying to impress someone enough to pay attention to me and look at me in terms of something I don't even believe in. I don't give a flying fuck about impressing people the rest of the time; if someone doesn't find me interesting, that's their problem. I have to pretend I think I'm worth paying attention to. It's hard to camouflage the things about yourself you hate when there's nothing about yourself you like.

That's my little shpeal. Anyone reading will probably try to fit me into a niche so they can pretend they understand what I mean. I don't fit into one of the usual "sexual" orientations. I don't fit into a "usual" gender. I don't see what good it will do me or anybody else to try to transmogrify myself to fit into a cookie cutter. I wish I could make someone understand, but that would be as futile as explaining how a voice sounds in your head: no translation or explication will ever be good enough.

I don't enjoy having questions and no answers. Maybe it's just that I want somebody to acknowledge this. Asking for understanding is too vast a desire. Nobody feels how you feel, because even if they've felt something similar, it's completely unique to you.

And I can't tell if that makes me brilliant or impossibly lonesome.