Being homosexual, story of my life

Questo scritto è del 2003, tratto dal mio vecchio blog. L’ho corretto alla bell’e meglio, ma le mie abilità linguistiche non sono al massimo in questi giorni, e poi è notte e non dormo da tanto.
Nel testo ci sono molte ingenuità, ma rappresentano chi ero. Oggi scriverei cose diverse.

Audioversion read by me (click here).

I was born in Naples in the south of Italy in 1982. My parents were quite old: my father was 51, my mother 40.
Their belief was – and still is – very old fashioned and overprotective: I had no brothers or sisters, and I grew up all by myself, having no friends or mates or people my age until I was thirteen.
I could not hang out with my schoolmates because I was told it was too dangerous with no adults looking after us.
When I started middle school – I was 10 – I was forced to encounter many new faces, and I didn’t like how things went: since I was not experienced in relating to anyone except my parents, I was not accepted – probably because I was such a weirdo.
I lived in my own world, I was so different from the others, I didn’t care about sport, I had no exciting experiences to share, along with my quaint convictions and my odd way to be: even my slang was different, and sometimes I didn’t even understand what my peers had said. This was shocking, because I was marginalized by everyone, and soon I became the laughing stock of my class.
In that period I went through a lot of psychological trouble. I was obsessed by illness and death in general, and I became convinced that having some ritual behavior would help get rid of my phobias. Those behaviors were very schizophrenic rules I had elaborated myself, and it took me a while to get myself convinced that my fears depended on my lack of self-confidence and on my being clumsy and harassed by negative criticism and continuous twits.
Things got better when high school started. I stumbled across more sympathetic and friendly guys, and I began to compare myself to others, so I learned to recognize my oddities and initiated a long path to get more “normal”.
Probably I’m not over yet. And never will I.
There were two guys at school I admired in a very special way: the former had been my classmate in middle school, and the latter was quite a particular person, a very cheerful guy who nonetheless was very authoritative.
But I felt that he cared about me, and – all things considered – he helped me a great deal during my growth: he used to emphasize what I did wrong in a very tough way, so I could not easily forget his remarks.
When I was that age I was nearly asexual, I thought that I wasn’t supposed to have sex and love experiences, I just looked at straight porn from time to time, but it was like I didn’t care. I felt those two things belonged to my future, and I had to be focused on the present. And I had been told not to masturbate, so I tried not to, for quite a long time.
I perfectly remember the day I learned the meaning of the word “homosexual”. I was ten, sitting at the table for lunch, and I asked my parents: I was told that gay people were no more than perverts.
But my sexual identity, at the time, was not something I was concerned about. I didn’t like the girls I came across with in my everyday life, because every single one of them acted like she couldn’t stand me, so I guessed I just had to find the right one.
In retrospect, I realize I was also crazy about the idea of making friends with a lot of guys I had met at school.
And I couldn’t stop thinking of a specific guy for quite a long period, and I just wanted to get his respect and share every single aspect of my life with him. The guy I had a crush upon always changed, but I felt invariably the same.
When I was with that person, it was like I was on cloud nine, and I longed for physical touch, and not even in a suggestive way. Even a pat on my shoulder was great. And when some guy twiddled my ears I realized I was strangely aroused.
I thought that those experiences could be ascribed to the fact that I had no friends or brothers or sisters.
And, at that time, nearly everyone at school boasted of his sexual deeds: masturbation was a pretty frequent topic of conversation. When I jerked off I thought of my male friends engaged in their solo activities, but I didn’t suspect I was gay.
I just believed that I got sexually excited because the stories about masturbation turned me on – the stories, not the boys.
When I turned 18, my friendship with the second classmate became just marvelous: we would hang out together every single day, and we’d discuss about really everything; finally I could tell myself that I had found an actual friend, and then, when he dismissed his grumpiness and let me know he did care for me, I was so incredibly happy!
When I walked beside him I felt dizzy and hyper at the same time.
But, very soon after, he told me he was having a relationship with a guy.
I had an unprecedented shock and a sleepless night. I started to realize that my best friend was not straight, therefore gay people were not so far from everyday life, and thus I could even be gay.
And the second step was: I probably was gay, I probably loved my friend, and almost for sure I had no chances whatsoever of becoming lovers.
My awareness grew very slowly and excruciatingly. That was a horrible period of my life, even because the eight-year friendship with this guy was seriously at stake because of my feelings. It was so harsh to accept that all of a sudden another guy had become incomparably more important than me, and there was nothing I could do about it.
In 2000 I got online and met some new friends who helped me out and explained that what I felt was not wrong.
But those guys lived very far away from me, and the gay chats I used to join were unfortunately almost exclusively visited by maniacs or sex junkies. Anyway, I met there my very first guy I kissed and made out with.
He was a very sweet guy of my age. Unluckily my first kiss was not given to someone I was in love with, like I had always been dreaming of. It was just an experience – a very enjoyable one, though.
And I precisely recall the way I was fucking nervous and I had to smoke a cigarette to calm me down. I was afraid that my lack of experience in kissing would have showed up.
And, truth be told, my first kiss sucked; my third one though felt great! We made out for hours!
So time went by, and I met a lot of guys and at least I became aware of the fact that I was overcoming my difficulties in interacting with other people.
Nowadays, I am fully conscious of the fact that I’m gay and maybe that’s not a problem anymore.
I came out to most of my straight friends and I am sure I cannot be what I’m not, so – since there’s no choice – if someone has something to object, I know what I should answer.
Anyway my parents will never accept me for me: it doesn’t matter, I know what they are like and, more importantly, I know they love me.
I’ve been told they would throw me out, if only they found out that I’m actually gay but, to be honest, I don’t care – they’ll never know a thing.
My only concern now is that I’m living a very lonely life: gay relationships are often way too short and I strongly need a partner in my life.
Therefore, my message to the world is that there are a lot of non-perverted homosexuals. They are just looking for some love and caressing in their not so easy lives.



Questo è un post di admin scritto in data 11 ottobre 2016 alle ore 06:33 e appartiene alla categoria Audiopost, English, Personale. Puoi seguire i commenti a quest'articolo attraverso un feed apposito. Sei invitato a lasciare un commento. Non è consentito il ping.

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