I’m realizing this in increasing increments. This makes sense because that’s the facade muturity hides within.
I’m not a classic anything. Sometimes it feels good to affiliate with something, just so you know what’s next, what your moves are and the what the diaphanous parameters of these moves are. It lets you know you know what accepted and expected. Otherwise you’re left dealing with the brambles that have never concerned anyone before because they are inapplicable.
Earlier this week I had a tiny discussion with a friend about gay types. He proposed a type I hadn’t heard of, The Cub. What an adorable term! He fit a few of the standards but not enough and the discussion ended when we figured we would probably find allegiance on the Island of Misfit Gays instead of siding with an actual type.
This weekend that sentiment metastasized. I’m not a classic jock or twink or bitch or any of that. I know people see me as the bitch, or the stylized gay, or femme, or athletic even but as a matter of fact I don’t have enough credits for any of these titles. I’m not especially bothered by this. I know everyone has the same sort of mashups and that it’s disorienting. It just makes me wonder, “Who looks for me?”
It’s a point of interest more than crushing loneliness, though I have been inundated with boyfriend reveries more and more since the spring semester. It’s a self based fascination. I just wonder about who finds me mutually appealing, because that person must be very very creative and probably has an ornate soul (just like me!).