What is wrong with me? Why can't I be like other guys? I try, you know. I really, really do. I don't want to perk up when I see a guy noticing me. I don't want my mind to immediately go to my girlfriend's strap-on when I think of sex. Nor do I want to want to look pretty. But I can't help it. I know it's all tied together. I know that I want to look pretty so people notice me. Maybe I'd act differently if women were routinely attracted to my...type. Or perhaps if I wasn't so inadequate...down there, I'd associate sex with using my penis. I don't know. But I'm not more masculine. I don't have a bigger penis. And I do like being pretty. It's just who I am, for better or worse.
I guess I get a little sidetracked with my introspection. It's not on purpose. Sometimes I just look back at my life up until now, and I wonder, "What if?" For instance, I can't help but wonder how my life would have turned out had I not kissed Brad...or Ben. Or whatever his name was. Would I have gone on with my life in Amy's arms? Maybe. Maybe not. Who's to say?
I do know that, after that night, something inside me just broke. It was like a world of possibilities opened up to me. Sure, I had noticed that guy's liked to look at me before, but this was different. This was a realization that they actually wanted to be with me. Or at least some of them did.
Before that, I never in a million years would have considered the idea that I might be attracted to men. Sexual orientation is kind of strange that way. We're all so conditioned to think that we're supposed to be attracted to women that, in some cases, it just doesn't occur to us to question it. Does it matter that, looking back, there was never a real sexual spark? No, not until we realize that there is a completely different world we've never even considered.
That's what happened to me, I guess. That simple kiss made me question everything. Was I attracted to Amy? Or was I attracted to the idea of being with her? Or was it something deeper than that? Had I just latched onto the first person who showed any interest? Yes, she was beautiful. I can objectively admit that. But was I really, truly attracted to her? I wanted to say yes. I needed to. That's the way it was supposed to be. I just wanted to be normal so badly, you know.
But I wasn't. I know that now. It took me so long to admit it to myself, though. I tried so hard to stay on the path. I really did. I even managed to fool myself for a while. I threw myself into our relationship. pushing so hard against my own doubts and self-realization. And I guess it worked, at least for a few months.
Sure, I was still the same person, but I kept telling myself that I just wasn't putting enough emphasis on our relationship. I loved Amy. I still do, after a fashion.
Even amidst my newfound vigor for our relationship, I never really believed myself. How could I, when each time we had sex, images of a nameless man flashed through my mind? It was so easy, imagining that it was a man behind me, thrusting into me instead of a woman with a fake penis. I wanted to suppress it, but I reveled in it too. What would it be like? Would it be that different? Would rough, manly hands and strong, muscular arms feel better than Amy's own hands?
It was hell in my own mind, I was so conflicted. I shudder to think what would have happened had the whole thing been left up to me.