The roles I play - Part 4. Heterosexual

This post is about my interpretation of my own sexual attractions. This may or may not be suitable for children. Please consult your local area laws.

While reading this, please keep in mind that the legal age for sexual intercourse is 15 in Sweden. Therefore, sexual education starts as early as age 10, in order to give out information before the majority of students enter puberty.


Part 4. Heterosexual

For the longest time I thought there was something wrong with me.
When the girls at my school giggled about boys and the guys bragged about who they were dating, I just didn't understand the chase or the "conquest" at all. I never made the connection between another human being and sexual desire. Sure, I was very interested in sex, but I never thought about people as "sexy".

For a large part of my formative years I also didn't believe that anyone would want to get that intimate with me. I just wasn't worthy of attention.

I met my first boyfriend when I was 16. He was also the first person I had sex with. The experience was rather... underwhelming. I just didn't understand the hype (I still don't, but I'm getting ahead of myself). Sure, some of the time, sex was nice, but that was it. Just nice. Add the fact that the guy was an abusive asshat, and I am glad I got out.

Number two was the same, minus the abuse. He just vanished one day.

Number three made me start enjoy the act of sexual intercourse, but I still didn't understand the lure of it.

Number four was Boy, and finally I understood.

I didn't get it right away. When I first met Boy, I was heartbroken from a romantic rejection (first girl I fell in love with) and I couldn't see past my own pain in any romantic way. Boy was very understanding and somehow managed to get me to talk to him. And he listened. I mean, really LISTENED. It took two months for us to start dating. It took another three-four months for me to start feeling sexual attraction towards him.

And suddenly I got it. I finally understood what people were talking about. But only with Boy.

At this time, I mixed up sexual attraction and romantic attraction. I thought they were the same thing. So I was extremely confused by everything. Why did I feel desire towards Boy, but only longing for my previous love interests?

I got the answer last year, when Jackson (another sibling in all but DNA) linked me to information about asexuality. Suddenly, everything made sense. Why I couldn't find a LGTBQ label that fit me (see, no A in that), why I felt longing but not desire for people, why I felt such strong desire towards Boy and no one else.

I need a strong emotional connection with a person in order to feel sexual attraction towards them. So far in life, I've felt that kind of attraction towards three people, and I married one of them. Boy is the only one I actually fantasize about, who I think is hot and sexy, who I really want to have sex with. The other two, I find sexually attractive, but I don't actually want to have sex with.

I call myself gray-ace, because demisexual is too broad for me. I don't feel sexual attraction towards everyone I have a strong emotional connection to.

I came out to my mom about three weeks ago. I told her that I didn't really care before. That it was such a natural part of who I am that I didn't have a need to "come out". She just said "Then why did you bother?"

I bothered, because I changed my mind and I thought you'd accept me for who I am. I bothered, because it was important to me. I bothered, because no one should be met with that reply when they share a vital part of themselves with others.

I am not straight. I have played the part of being heterosexual because it was easy. Now that I know why I feel the way I feel, I am not going to hide it. I am a panromantic gray-ace cisgender female. Please, stop assume that people are straight until proven otherwise. People are more complicated than that.


DFTBA

For more information on asexuality, please follow the links below

WikiPedia

Cracked

Urban Dictionary

WikiHow

AsexualityArchive

Thoughts from the kitchen sink

Today was a day of packing and doing dishes. If I think about my imminent move to Ireland for too long, I freak out, so I'll get to today's topic:


The absolute stupidity that is discrimination.

I have been blessed to be born in a country in which discrimination is prohibited by law. I recognize this privilege for what it is, a wonderful thing, and I fight loudly for others to gain the privileges I, as a Swede, was born with.
When I see laws get passed that make it ok to discriminate people based on anything, really, it makes me sad and frustrated.

Like I said, I was born and raised in Sweden, so neither I nor my sister have had to hide who we are. My sister is gay and is living with a wonderful woman. I am gray-asexual and I am married to a bisexual man. I married the love of my life this past September and I look forward to going to my sister's wedding, whenever that might happen.

It breaks my heart to know that in some countries, people aren't allowed to marry who they love. In some countries, they are allowed to marry, but different laws apply to hetero marriages and LGBTQIA marriages.All because of one line in a book that is 2000 years old. A line that makes absolutely no sense.

Let's break it down.

Lev 18:22: Thou shalt not lie with mankind, as with womankind: it is abomination. (King James Bible)

Now, assuming that the male in question is a bio-sex male attempting to have penetrative sexual intercourse with another bio-sex male the same way a bio-sex male would have penetrative sexual intercourse with a bio-sex female, I see a problem right away.
This is impossible. 
Bio-sex males do not have vaginas, so a bio-sex male can't have the same kind of sex with a bio-sex male as he would with a bio-sex female. 
It is physically impossible. At least if you discount anal sex.

Now, the line says nothing about bio-sex females, so according to the Bible, lesbianism is totally ok. It also says nothing about bio-sex males identifying as females, genderfluid, bio-sex intersex, gender queer, non-gender, etc. It basically only mentions cisgender bio-sex males, and we already established the impossibility of that. 

Lev 18:22 really only bans bio-sex cismales to have sex with bio-sex intersex identifying as males, and bio-sex cismales to have sex with bio-sex females identifying as males.

And most of all,  there is no mention of the Abrahamic God banning LGBTQIA people from marrying. There's a lot of talk about not marrying across country borders and across faith lines, but nothing about LGBTQIA people.

So really, it would make more sense to ban eating bacon and drinking beer, than to ban two people who love each other from getting married. Drinking alcohol and eating pork is banned by the Abrahamic God, after all.


For more information on gender and sexuality, go here and follow the links. 


DFTBA



Edit: When I say "bio-sex" I mean the sex a person was genetically born with - male female, or intersex.

"Cis", to me, means having the same gender identification as your biological sex (males identifying as males, females identifying as females, intersex identifying as intergender).

Gender does not equal your sex. Your sex is the parts and chromosomes you were born with. Your gender is who you are, what you identify as, and that spectrum is huge.

The roles I play - Part 3. Liberal Arts

Be mindful how you speak to children. Despite popular belief, children actually listen to most of what you say, and what you say shape how they think about themselves.


Part 3. Liberal Arts

When I was 6 - 7 years old, I hated reading. I loathed letters and I just could not figure out the purpose of putting certain letters in particular orders. Reading took too much time and reading out loud in class always caused me massive anxiety (reading difficulties plus a lisp caused by teeth changing is a recipe for anxiety).
Math was easy. Just two numbers in a row and the sign between them gave you the final answer. I loved math. I adored the simplicity. It was easy to understand and it was pretty.

Until a teacher forced me to erase all my work because I worked too fast and was too far ahead of the class.

Until I figured out that words were just images that described the images in my head.

I cracked the code of reading about the same time I was first told that math wasn't for me. Being the person I am, I launched on a reading spree that would last almost 15 years, during which time I forgot my love for math.

I was told that I wasn't a sciency kind of person. That liberal arts and social science was more my thing. I agreed, mostly because books and language, art, music, and theater held me captivated. My teachers in biology, physics, math, and chemistry didn't peek my interest and the way those classes were taught were just mind numbingly boring to me.

I graduated high school with a diploma in Cultural History and Social Science and had no idea what to do with my life. My dreams of acting had been shattered, my hopes of being a journalist were on the back burner, and my confidence was at low point.

It wasn't until two years ago that I discovered that I am damn good at science stuff. Up until that point, I knew I was a not too intelligent person. People never understood what I was talking about, and so I was convinced I wasn't smart enough.

I was wrong. Last three tests I've done puts my IQ between 110 and 115, which puts me in the upper area of normal intelligence. Yay, not stupid. I just don't think in the same way many people around me do.

Thing is, I can find correlations in almost anything. Give me a set of information and time to think, and I will find the smallest common denominator. When I discovered that and started mastering the way I think, I found that ALL THE THINGS now catch my eye.

Physics, string theory, theater, biology, chemistry, history, art.

I can find links and correlations from Pythagoras to Michelangelo to Higgs. I can show you cultural links between Hellas and Heian, religious links between astrophysics and the first temples.

I am not just a social scientist or a liberal arts student. I am a student of anything and everything I fancy, and I am smart enough to understand what I read.

You look at me and see a band t-shirt, side cut hair in a pony tail, jeans, and tattoos. To most, I look like a "alternative" metal head. What you don't see is the youtube playlist of physics documentaries, the book shelves stacked with history, philosophy, and art books. My subscriptions to Numberphile, Nottingham Science, MinutePhysics, CrashCourse, SciShow, and GoodMythicalMorning don't show in the way I dress.

I am far more than what many see, and I hope that people will one day imagine me as more than "The History Nerd". I like black holes, too.


DFTBA

The roles I play - Part 2. Darkness

This post contains mentions of mental and physical abuse, self harm, mental illness, and eating disorder.


Part 2. Darkness

My life has not been easy.
For the longest time I couldn't even think about it like that, because I was told it could be so much worse. I had food every day, a roof over my head, and warmth, so I shouldn't complain about a little bullying. I was alive, right?

Thing is, mental problems rarely show on the outside, and being told that things could be worse usually don't make me feel better.

For almost all my life I was also convinced that because I had mental problems, I had been bullied and I dressed mostly in black, I should be jaded, angry, and hateful. I tried and tried and tried to follow this image of myself. In the end, it became so bad that I turned bitter and hollow. I couldn't feel anything beyond mild amusement and soul crushing emptiness. I purged my emotions and I drowned myself in morbid images, sad music, and cynical comments. Days could pass without me eating unless someone was watching me. I cut myself and I put myself through punishing regimes of self-hatred. I discovered that pain made me feel good, but I believed that it was solely a bad thing, and so I hated myself even more for it.

It took me years to realize that I am not a gloomy kind of person.

I dress in black, because I like it. I also dress in blues and purples, but people only seem to notice the black.

I can be sarcastic and cynical. People think it's because I hate others, but it's just because I like that kind of humor. No one questions the under-the-belt kind of humor of Scary Movie, American Pie, or Road Trip, so why do I get weird looks when I profess my love for House, MD?

I love heavy metal, jrock, and similar music, but I also love Adele, musicals, and Amy McDonald. Apparently you can't love both Iron Maiden and Lady Gaga.

I look like a goth. I look like I hate the world, that I'm a gloom-and-doom kind of person. Few people believe me when I say that "some of my favorite things" are kittens, unicorns, sunny days, and manicures.

I love life and I love being alive. I have played the suffering jaded punk for too long. It's time to be open about how I truly see the world.
I will dress in my dark colors. I will listen to Rammstein, Iron Maiden, D'espairsRay, and Metallica. I will draw morbid pictures and paint dark paintings.

And I will proudly shout "I LOVE LIFE!" even if people don't want to hear it.


DFTBA

The roles I play - part 1. Sparkle

Last night, I was happily stunned by a documentary named "Kink" (all about the kink dot com web site) and it made me think about all the roles I play in my life.

Now, I have a serious problem with my fear of being abandoned, so I am very likely to stick to some destructive roles just to make sure I don't get abandoned by people I somehow feel that I need. Maybe this series of posts will weed out those relationships without me having to struggle with having to pull them out myself (wouldn't that be grand?)

This series of posts will also be less coherent than my usual streams of thought. There will be jumping in text, correlations that might not make sense at first glance, and/or concepts that require some googling (no, I will not remember to link to everything. I'm confident any readers know how to use a search engine.)

We all set? Great. Let's get on with it, then.



Part 1. Sparkle.

I call this first part "Sparkle" because it reflects a part of me I have been told is my greatest gift. Not that I am bubbly and giggling and cutesy-poo, but that I fit in everywhere, like the glitter once spilled on a shirt.

I can insert myself in basically any conventional social situation and make it a perfect fit. "Socially competent" is a label I've held for more than 20 years. I am 29 now, so you can really see how sad this is. What 9 year old is socially competent? This label gets even sadder when you really consider what it means to be able to fit in in every social situation. To compromise who you are to such an extent that you become a specter. Interesting enough to become a natural part of a group, but not so much that people remember you when you leave. Even among people I call friends, I always feel like someone observing. The third person narrator in my own life.

It wasn't until I ran into a particular group on the old online journal service LiveJournal that I found a place I belong. (Here I also met a person I have loved for 10 years now. She is my sister in everything but DNA.) In this group, I could talk about hidden desires, broken fantasies, and unconventional needs. I was just another one in the group, but I didn't need to manipulate my way into it to be a part of it. I just had to be curious about a world I previously had no idea even existed.

I left LiveJournal in 2010, but I kept up my research. I was now dating Boy, and he and I stared down the Scene together.

I finally had a place I could feel completely free in. It no longer felt so destructive to smile and courtesy and fake a laugh, knowing that the people around me couldn't know that in my head, I was struggling against metal cuffs, sharp edges biting into my wrists, a strong hand closing ever-so-slowly around my wind pipes. Blue eyes blazing above me, filled with love, pride, and a sadistic glee matched only by the trusting, loving surrender in my own hazel eyes.

Unless you have experienced that power exchange, there is no chance you can understand the powerful high that comes from putting everything you are into someone else's hands. To have your sense of self, your soul, and your heart shattered into pieces and put together into a stronger version of yourself.

Now, if you want to use labels again, I would classify myself as a submissive masochist. I am more of a switch, though, but I prefer to follow over leading. It's perfect, really, since Boy is NOT submissive in any way, shape, or form. He is also a sadist, which feeds my need for pain completely. (Here I would like to make a distinction between pain and hurt. To me, pain is a sensation, like warmth, cold, soft, hard etc. Hurt is something destructive. Hurt takes away from who you are, while pain adds to the experience.)

The first time Boy took a crop to me, I came so hard I nearly passed out. The first time he choked me during sex, I swear I was in Heaven.

We have since progressed from party store, easily breakable aluminium hand cuffs to Kevlar restraints.

I still prefer sharp pain compared to dull ache. A crop, a hand, nails, pins, clamps. All preferable compared to a flogger or pinching.

When I feel the Kevlar pressing on my wrists and the softness of the blindfold across the bridge of my nose, the noise in my head fades away. The first touch of pain on my skin makes my world light up with a warm, red glow. Each strike builds the light into a chanting crescendo until the pain breaks something in my mind and everything turns into a dark, safe embrace in which nothing matters except love, trust, and safety.
Touch of skin on skin. Boy's voice in my ear. Feeling safe and loved and cherished.

And I no longer care that the world outside Boy's embrace is cold and judging. Without pretending, I know where I belong.



DFTBA

Alone at 3 am

Almost two months ago, my Boy started his job for Hewlett-Packard in Ireland, and I got re-familiarized with the problem of no one to bother with my thoughts at 3 am. I just can't be bothered to get out of bed, start my laptop, and send out messages to people who might be awake/at home at that time. It's so much easier to just poke my SO's side and spout off my thoughts. Even mostly still asleep, Boy understands my thought processes in ways very few others understand even fully awake.

But I digress.

One of these thoughts was born from John Green's books "Looking for Alaska" and "Paper Towns", and it's the concept of imagining other people complexly. Being a Nerdfighter working where I work, I am confronted with this concept on an almost daily basis. I meet and work with all kinds of people, and many of them have just given up on ever re-integrating into "normal" society (explaining the Employment Agency's attempts at jigging the statistics would take too long for this post) and many of them have become bitter and cynical. Looking beyond the first layer of jaded cynicism can be really hard, but once I start pulling at leads hidden beneath that first layer, I often find kind people who have been disappointed and hurt times beyond counting. It is painful to see and it's so much easier to just stay on that first layer. To return bitterness with indifference and mean comments in kind.

Imagining the people around you complexly is hard. The human brain prefers easy categories and labels. Gay, straight, man, woman. Perfect. Ugly. Feminine. Masculine. These are labels the brain likes.

It is when we can look beyond the labels that we realize that an individual is so much more complex and infinitely more interesting than any label.

Like the biochemist co-creating the world's largest video convention (VidCon), the electrician working as server admin for HP, or a porn star with a Masters in horticulture.

Like the woman who once dreamed of stage acting and now is planning to open a alternative clothing store.

People who don't know us will label us, for their comfort and convenience. It is up to us to shine brighter than the labels and to make our own path. To me, the first step towards that is to imagine others as more than a collection of labels.

DFTBA