#not into girls
Over time, I increasingly worried how mother’s love of dressing me in her clothes, was changing me. On one of our weekends away together, where mother would normally pack my suitcase full of dresses and skirts, and I would spend the weekend negotiating the world as a girl, it would be the first time I found myself looking at scantily clad girls (girls which a boy should find overwhelmingly sexy), in a distinct way in which I knew only girls supposed to. Disturbingly, as distinctly gross.
It wouldn’t be long until I would find myself thinking about another thing, in a distinctly female way which would mortify me…. men. Their bulges, their naked bodies, and their members.
I remember those occasions among the other boys, ogling over scantily clad girls. How uncomfortable it made me, not only being aware of how much less interested in the girls, I felt I was compared to my friends, but when their girlfriends criticized what we were watching, grossed out by the giggling naked female bodies, how secretly I agreed with everything they expressed.
Nothing however so disturbed me, than what a friend said in dismissing the girls, indirectly saying what deep down, I knew was also true about myself. Something that I didn’t want to admit to myself,
“You wouldn’t understand, because you are not into girls”
Always the kind of boy that was never into vulgar big bulging breasts and curvaceous asses/hips. The kind of boy……
…….. that was never really into girls……………
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Things you can relate to as a fairy…
It felt like you were the only boy in the world that wasn’t in the slightest bit turned on by breasts.
And eventually, later into your teens, when you did develop such an enthusiasm, it would rather be towards the thing that the girls were always so enthusiastic about, dick.
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Memories of having a poster very much like this one, on my bedroom wall in my early teens. And how I was never turned on by it.
My older sister, at the time had an equivalent poster. Of a hulking muscular physique, with tiny underwear barely containing his bulging malehood. It always so disturbed me, how as much as I desperately didn’t want to admit it to myself, I knew how it so affected me. How I so wanted that bulging penis on my bedroom wall instead of that girl.
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Oh the peer pressures of boyhood. That constant worry whether the other boys will ask you something, which shows you know absolutely nothing about cars… about sports. That you know absolutely nothing about what it is like, to actually….
…. be attracted to girls…..
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Evocative of my school days….
Where all the boys went crazy about news of being taught by particular attractive young females who worked at the school over the coming year, I rather, secretly felt the same way as the girls. Longing to be taught by the handsome male teachers.
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I remember in my childhood, my father commenting on a character in a televised crime melodrama, with such contempt. It was a beautiful crossdressing seductress, that slept with large number of men, before being murdered by a homophobic lover. Mixed with the stigma of father’s words, was how absolutely shocking it was, that there were actually boys who didn’t “like” girls. That there were actually boys out there who liked men, and wanted to do things with men, which only girls were supposed to do.
Stepmother thought my father’s views were amusing. Away from him in secrecy, telling me how commonplace boys like this were, and that she wouldn’t be surprised at all if I grew up to be one on them. In seeing how uncomfortable such a statement made me, she attempted to provide me comfort, going on to say how fun it is being a girl. That sleeping with men is so much fun, that I would soon forget all about girls.
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For the uninformed, if you were to see Dita Von Teese, you would think she would be a sex symbol among men. But in reality very few men, enjoy her in a sexual setting at all. Her attraction, is rather within a female setting. A love of glamour, on part of distinctly feminine and heterosexualwomen.
For the feminine, insecure boy, it makes for for a number of uncomfortable realizations. The attraction of her, being the enjoyment of her glamour, while also, importantly, taking satisfaction from the appearance, the very idea, that one is indulging in heterosexual sexual desire for women.
Things you can relate to if Dita Von Teese was the symbol of your boyhood sexuality;
……… You were never really attracted to girls.
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Sleeping with multiple girls all at the same time. The ultimate boy’s fantasy…..
I wonder what your friends would think if they knew that it wasn’t quite the turn on for you as they thought it was. That maybe there would be a number of things you would like to do just as much… or perhaps a little more…..
What would your friends think, if it were more of a turn on, if say, there were men there instead?
What would your friends think, if say…….. you weren’t really interested in sleeping with girls at all……………………..?
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Relatable…..
Growing up this was all the other boys ultimate fantasy….
……… and secretly was your very worst nightmare
#not into girls
#men only
The imagination and early sexual stirrings of a vulnerable, effeminate young boy, can be pretty disconcerting.
Where all the other boys imagined themselves in traditional adventures, as warriors, killing monsters and saving the girl. I normally found myself identifying with the female characters, who unlike the males, didn’t ever contribute anything to defeating the bad guys, and often a hindrance, only appeared to serve one role….. how seemingly every scenario, I would loose more clothing, revealing, disturbingly, my voluptuous body. How curiously, none of the villains really wanted to hurt me. Helpless as they sought to reveal my pretty little body, and do things to me that I didn’t understand. Things that made me feel so….
…. wonderful……………….
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Many of my boyhood obsessions, where of many of the same girls that all the other boys drooled over. I desperately didn’t want to admit to myself, how the biggest gratification I got, was from the impression of being into girls, that my friends believed, and that I so wanted to believe, that my love of glamour, was the same as the actual desire for girls that my friends had. How every time when looking through girly magazines with my friends, I secretly was made to feel overwhelmed by the discomfort, in being confronted by how my relationship to girls weren’t anything like the desires my friend’s had for them. That they weren’t in any way a desire for girls, but an appreciation of beauty and glamour that an average girl would have, looking through a fashion magazine. These uncomfortable truths would lead me open to more uncomfortable truths. That where my love of glamour was like that of a girl, that my true desires were for the same things that girls desire….. and that I wouldn’t be able to run from these desires forever……..
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I know which side of this I’d rather be on…..
In my younger years, such a photo would invoke quite a fair deal of inner conflict. The sensitive disposition of a boy, being so vulnerable to seeing things in ways that are forbidden to him. In ways only girls supposed to see them. How overwhelming and disturbing it was, in seeing boys for how sexy the girls always said they were. And then, how I couldn’t help but see girls, in the ways girls always saw them. Unable to comprehend the desire boys had for them at best, and at worst, finding the naked busty bombshells of adult magazines, to be gross.
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