I'm almost<a href="http://lyone.net/e/41/#note-1"><sup>1</sup></a> positive every teenager not <em>absolutely</em> positive what they're sexual preference is questions it. It's natural, and with society more open now than it ever was before<a href="http://lyone.net/e/41/#note-2"><sup>2</sup></a>, to question something. You feel attraction, and you ask yourself, "Am I <em>gay</em>?".
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 <em>don't</em> know. Of course, this is discluding positive feelings, because there are people who <em>do</em> 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 <em>that</em> 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 <em>still</em> 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. <em>This</em>, folks, was the moment I <em>knew</em> 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, <em>is he Hispanic?</em> 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 <em>I</em>, a not-really-all-that-attractive white girl, could attract him or someone very much like him. <em>That</em> 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 <em>The Chamber of Secrets</em>, 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 <a href="http://killwrongs.livejournal.com/8909.html" title="External Link: 'Why, Hello Stalker' at LJ">stalker »</a> who I was also secretly interested in, too; <em>or</em> when my sister, Uncle and I fangirled over Taylor Lautner's new body last week.
<li id="note-1"><em>Almost</em>. 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.</li>
<li id="note-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.</li>