Showing posts with label whine bitch moan complain. Show all posts
Showing posts with label whine bitch moan complain. Show all posts

Sunday, January 30, 2011

One of those days...

Yes, I'm having one of those days. I feel cynical and sad and lonely and queer. Funny how often that set of things goes together, I think.
I never feel straight or heteronormative or whatever- I never really have and being able to say that I feel queer or asexual is a huge improvement in a lot of ways. It's also not so much that feeling queer makes me feel cynical and sad and lonely (and unattractive). Quite the opposite, in fact; feeling cynical and sad and lonely (and unattractive, a perpetual state) drives home to me my essential queerness. Something inside says "you're not lovable and it's becuase you're queer."
Never does it say "I feel queer today- so I suppose nobody will love me."
Perhaps this is becuase I have so much evidence that I am loved, despite or because of my queer identity. My friends certainly don't care that I'm asexual and, in fact, I've made some friendships thanks to PRISM that I would likely not have made otherwise.
But frequently, when I'm feeling unattractive and unlovable my queerness opresses me and makes me wonder whether, if I were only straight or at least a lesbian, I wouldn't be more lovable?
I suspect that this is not the case. If I were the sort of person with whom others fall in love, as I wish that I was, they would fall in love with me anyway. I would still be asked out on dates, as I've made it very clear that I would date, given the chance.
This is precisely my problem. If I felt that I was dateless because I am asexual, I wonder if that would make it all easier. If I could somehow confirm that the only thing wrong with me is my asexuality, would that make it easier to feel desirable? Then it would be I who did not desire the boys around me. Instead, it is they who do not desire me. The fault, then, must lie with something more obvious than my sexuality, which I could hide if my priorities dictated that relationships were more important than the truth. The fault must be something deeper. Perhaps, I think to myself on nights like tonight, perhaps I am simply hideous. I'm too big for any boy to look twice at, of that I have convinced myself. I'm too tall and too broad and too... shall we say "fluffy"?
Hypocrite that I am, I support the idea of what they're calling "fat acceptance" and yet I want desperately to be thin and beautiful and alluring. Instead, I am chubby and thickset and awkward beyond all imagining.
I'm having one of those days.
Welcome back to my blog.