Forgetfulness with Love

Recently coming to terms with one's preferences can be rocky and emotional, but uplifting. This becomes more baffling while being in a relationship with someone of the same sex.

My adolescence was a jittery fever-dream of years rolling on by carelessly with the internet as a connection of the majority of my social interaction. I was reserved and withdrawn in my later years after spending a small time attempting to make a group of friends. It wasn't fruitful, and I attracted compulsive liars who rejected me passive aggressively after denying to stroke their egos. I indulged in anime, music and speaking to people off message boards, and attempting to be creative. I still do all these activities sans Japanese cartoons, and now listening to the music I enjoyed while battling my desires and preferences has lit a spark of nostalgia.

I forced myself to speak of men as often and as much as my two best friends (and future fiancee) who, granted, were going through the same - simply attempting to find themselves. They were enthusiastic with each other, freely sharing their preferences - I was the straggler, I knew. And I just sat there like an idiot typing smileys and links, repeating and mimicking their vocalisations. I never really wanted to speak about what I liked sexually because it didn't match their preferences, nor the preferences of everyone around me. So I sat there, alone - burning off my frustration by looking at what I enjoyed, alone - in a cycle of indulgence and repression that carried on for years. Couple this with a bout of bulimia and suicidal tendencies, and it becomes even worse. I feel today that this has only added to my being sexually crippled in my fantasies which has fueled insecurity and self-harm.

This wouldn't be possible without my betrothed and with hand squeezing and wooing out myself from the proverbial and quite blatant closet. It still was hard, and a very harsh turn of events in the past months shook me to the reality that I couldn't force myself to be or act in a way that didn't mirror what I truly was. So I was frank, and I felt cheap and ripped off. It's getting better now, as I revisit what I truly like. And not hiding it anymore, especially as I have come to terms with myself while being in said relationship, is exalting, alleviating, and fulfilling.