This is our truth, tell us yours
If life is a journey, then one of the ways you know you’re travelling is probably that the view changes. Given my inclination, I’d hope that my journey would be Monmouth to Chepstow via the Wye Valley not Totthenham Court Road to Holborn on the Central Line.
Jem and I have a recurrent conversation about the ways in which we have changed over the life of this blog; not because of the blog, but, like any travelogue, it lets us know where we’ve been.
I usd to be very comfortable describing myself as a bi dom male. Two out of three ain’t bad. I’m dom, and male. I am far too comfortable in my role, as a dom, and my skin, as male, for that to ever change. Working out that being dom is a role, and male an identity, has taken some time. It’s being bi that gives me a problem.
Being bi has always, to me, meant being willing, or interested, in having sex with men and women. And I am. There were times when my enthusiasm for effeminate men, or cross dressers, or even butch women, caused conflicts with other gay and bi men who wondered what my catholic tastes meant, but I could live with that.
The world has moved around me. Where once my world was full of men, and women, it’s now populated by a spectrum of individuals who are non-binary, gender fluid and a whole range of options I’m not qualified to describe.
If I kept on describng myself as bi, as I have to my friends and allies, since I was a teenager, I’d be saying to the world that actually, I believe there are only two identities.
I can’t do that. I’d be rejecting my friends. I’d be rejecting one of the people I might have been. I know, as I must know, that one of the people I might have been is a man who presented as a woman. I’m a queer man who presents as straight, and a man of afro-caribbean descent who presents as white. I can’t be sure, if some contingencies had fallen differently, if I might not now be a cross dresser, or gender fluid, or non-binary. One or two chromosones the other way, and I might present as black, like my great uncles. That thought doesn’t trouble me. The thought that the label I put on myself might exclude people I count as friends, does.
One of the joys, the absolute joys of a relationship with someone like Jem is that she takes my mind, and my body, to places that aren’t predictable. I I can’t explain how, on one occasion, I knew that Jem would be aroused by my challenging another man to suck my cock in the hope that she would be more aroused by him, but there was nothing binary about it. Being her friend, and lover, has helped me to understand my sexuality, that it is not binary.
So, I’m not binary in who I am, and I am almost obsessively singular in the role I play, but I prize intelligence and arousal above the identities of the people I desire. The world I live in now lets people present to me via their intelligence, their minds and their roles, not just their genitals.
So, the world having changed, I can only conclude that the label I use must have changed.
Dear world, lovely friends, I’m male, dom and queer as fuck. You, the world around me changed, and so must I.