We finish our SPANNING THE SPECTRUM sexuality series by learning more of Tom’s story as Erin returns to take over hosting duties! Tom shares a new term he’s still feeling out for himself: androsexual, or an attraction to masculinity. He shares about his attraction for mostly straight men, going all the way back to another boy in first grade. He also discusses being on the asexual spectrum and the shame of “missing out” on such a significant part of the human experience. To close this episode, Tom and Erin look back on the previous 9 episodes of this series, giving love to all our wonderful contributors!
Jesse of the great City of Oaks returns to discuss his sexuality as someone on the asexual (ace) spectrum, identifying as demisexual: someone who only develops sexual feelings when a strong emotional bond is also present. He goes into the difficulties of growing up different in a sexually charged culture, as well as the blessings of being a source of safety with his guy friends.
I found myself getting sucked into a world of fantasy. Porn was way better than watching some blockbuster: I could still be with guys without actually being with them. After all, I never cared about those guys anyway. It was all about me and getting off. The more I watched porn, the more I was hooked.
I'd already been with German guys, so I thought it was a good idea see what guys from other countries were like. I figured the chances of ever again being with other guys from that many countries would be slim. The sad part about having sex with all these men was that I never once gave thought to my relationship with God. It was all about me and those European men.
I had sex for the first time on May 3, 1979. Funny how you always remember your first. It was with my sister's best friend. I was 17; she was 16. Everyone in the neighborhood swore we were already having sex, but we weren't. I really wasn't interested in her or any other girl for that matter; even if I was, I wouldn't have known what to do anyway.
How many of us have decided not to come out to our fathers because we knew it wouldn't go well? How many have been wrestling with the idea of telling our fathers for fear of the unknown? And how many of us have already come out to our fathers, a topic never again spoken about?
All the other gay films I'd watched were nice, but this was the first gay film I watched and thought: I wish I knew what it was like to be in a relationship. All the other men I've ended up with were only about sex. I didn't care about them or their feelings, much like the son at the beginning of this film. This film brought up feelings I never knew I even had or wanted, for that matter.
How do I deal with unmet sexual desire? It's a question which led me to ask, what is my sexual desire? Of course, "sexual desire" is a category with a lot of things in it. "There's a lot of different fish in that bucket," I told myself. But let's not call it a bucket. Let's call it an aquarium so all the fish have plenty of room to swim around, and so we can get a good look at them.
My mom didn't start saying she loved me until she became a Christian in the early 80's. Now she says it almost every day, and I feel like she's doing it to make up for all those lost years. As far as I'm concerned, those "I love you's" are empty because she's been saying it to the straight Michael she's always preferred instead of the Michael actually in front of her. And because of that, I've learned to tolerate her acknowledged denial of my life.
I still have that Link costume somewhere in my closet. Perhaps it's the wandering through the woods that I love, the isolation, the music; or, perhaps it's something deeper that has stuck with me after all these years. Perhaps it's that I feel like the protagonist: adrift in time, unsure whether I'm a child or a man. This is how I feel as I move back into my childhood bedroom – the place where my sexual trauma occurred.