Lyone

I'm almost¹ positive every teenager not absolutely positive what they're sexual preference is questions it. It's natural, and with society more open now than it ever was before², to question something. You feel attraction, and you ask yourself, “Am I gay?”.

As a almost-not-any more teenager, I did question myself. It wasn't that I found girls to be attractive–quite the contrary–but my family has always been accepting of such a thing, and my hormones were raging. Before you can really test the water á la have sex, you really don't know. Of course, this is discluding positive feelings, because there are people who do go their whole lives without a second question to their preference.

I didn't grow up as a normal teenager, so I'm not one. I was, more or less, sexually stunted. I liked boys, but I didn't think of sex before I was 15. It's the society now–my 12-year-old cousin (12!) has already had sex…and I wasn't even looking at boys then!–that really introduces the aspect of sex, even if your body isn't ready for it. Back on track, I was 15, and I had sex. I'll admit it, I'm in the process of confessing my inner most thoughts, might as well get that out there, too; I don't mean to divulge too much, but in order to get my point across, it's relevant.

It was a mistake. I don't regret it, because I don't regret a lot of things, but in hindsight, I knew I was only doing it because it was the first guy to pay attention to me (and the last, unfortunately), and I wanted to feel that. I wasn't attracted to him, only the act. I liked it–not the act, because that left a lot to be desired–but the feeling itself. I knew then I wasn't attracted to girls, but a secret part of me still questioned it, even at 19-years-old, and well aware of my own hormones, and what I really feel now.

So, while questioning, and in St. Augustine, Florida on a mini-vacation with the family, I was down and out. We went to the beach–the only thing that made me feel better at the time–and then out to dinner. Minus the two flat tires and overall hassle of not having a car, I suddenly spotted a family. I didn't pay attention, because as mentioned, I wasn't feeling my usual quietly cheerful self.

The Dad of the family went out, unnoticed by me, and then came back in at some point. This, folks, was the moment I knew I was not gay; I wouldn't personally be ashamed of such a thing, if I was, but this was epic (to me). Anyway, he walks in, in fitted jeans with a belt, a blue t-shirt tucked in only at the waist and…oh my God, is he Hispanic? I thought, and melted. And perked up, because now I had eye-candy to glance all through dinner, however brief it was. I'm attracted to dark-skinned men (Hispanic, Mexican, Asian, you name it!), and I couldn't believe my eyes. I wasn't jealous of his wife, despite me somewhat wishing I, a not-really-all-that-attractive white girl, could attract him or someone very much like him. That was my reckoning.

Of course, I could have figured this out in 2002, when my sister and I would giggle on the couch and point at Daniel Radcliffe's crotch in The Chamber of Secrets, or at Tom Felton's pretty features in the same field (er…maybe that was jealously more than it was attraction); or when I had my stalker » who I was also secretly interested in, too; or when my sister, Uncle and I fangirled over Taylor Lautner's new body last week.

1. Almost. I can't be quite sure, I only have the sister and her friends to rely on. And stories from others, but that's certainly no ground to walk on.
2. I have this theory, before it was really questioned and Religious crusaders, and old Grandmas, that being gay was OK. Just a theory, but the feeling is bone-deep.

Posted: July 26, 2009
Listed Under: Real Life
Tags: real life, sexual preference

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