How I became homosexual

I never said I didn’t want pussy. In fact, I’ve never not wanted pussy. I’ve dreamed of eating pussy since forever. The maze of life just hasn’t taken me there yet.

I was raised in a male-dominated sports world where females were not so accessible, emotionally or physically, and males were violent and abusive but accessible through sports, my second language.

Upon my birth, my older sister was told she had a new baby sister. “That explains it,” said my mother years later. At age seven, sis taught me cheerleading. From that day forward, I became an athlete and a cheerleader. As far as the neighbor kids were concerned, I also became a fag. I never said I didn’t want pussy!

I checked HOMO on the imaginary sexual census form out of social convenience.

From junior high to my college graduation, I was socially retarded and basically alone. By high school, I quit playing sports and focused on academics, journalism and theater. Then in college, I finally got to live out my childhood cheerleader dreams. As far as the world was concerned, all of it made me a fag. I never said I didn’t want pussy!

In my youth, there were little or no opportunities to articulate or explore my sexual nature with my peers. But a hard dick finds its own compass, and since I was already more bonded with males, emotionally and physically, and indeed craved a best buddy with whom I could bond, emotionally and physically, and since the world had already anointed me fag …

My penile compass found its way into the world of men who have sex with men, beginning with adult bookstores. Most of the men were far from stereotypical fags. Many of them were married. Very few of them saw themselves as gay.

 “Never had a partner. Never had a lover. Never had a boyfriend.”

One month after college, the AIDS hysteria hit. I made a pledge to avoid the new “deadly disease,” but inwardly I knew: I was already infected. I needed a miracle. Or two.

The first would be surviving AIDS. The second: finding my best buddy, even though school was over, and that buddy and I would have to journey through the AIDS crisis together.

So circa my mid-twenties, I signed onto this “whole gay thing” and checked HOMO on the imaginary sexual census form out of social convenience. I immersed myself in the gay world, went to gay bars, danced in gay clubs, started calling myself gay, searched for a buddy, aka, gay partner, fought for gay rights, all while trying to survive AIDS and find a buddy-for-life.

I never said I didn’t want pussy!

Twenty-five years later, I’m living out the first miracle, having now survived a quarter of a century, more than half my life, with HIV/AIDS. The second miracle, the buddy dream: still elusive. Never had a partner. Never had a lover. Never had a boyfriend.

Now that I’m all grown up, I realize: I’m no longer a homo, just a guy who enjoys the company of men, who wants to bond with a special buddy, emotionally and physically, and who is open to but has yet to experience sex with women.

I never said I didn’t want pussy!