Today’s words: Nutritious, Alleged, Display, Wax
Word count: 764
Completion time: 47 minutes
Summary: Sometimes you raise your expectations only to be punched in the genitals by the fist of Life, figuratively
--
There is a stone statue that stands outside of Waterloo station.
The alleged amount of time it’s been there is undetermined by most, but people who know of him say that they can’t remember a time when he wasn’t there.
A lot of people use it as a landmark, telling friends, family, lovers, colleagues, that they’ll be waiting by the Weeping Man (that isn’t its official name, but the locals have named it so).
People walk by it, amazed by the realism etched in the face, the detail in the eyes, the anguish that seems to capture everyone who regards it; like a wax display at Madame Tussauds. Some say that to look at it carries the curse of a bad love life for at least a year. It’s never been proven, but the rumour continues to spread like a plague in the playground and the office.
This statue wasn’t always made from stone; let me tell you a short tale of how this statue came to be.
A man called Christian got in contact with another man online when he was twenty-two. He was the first person he came out to; not even his mother knew, and she thought she knew everything about him. The guy he met was charming, humorous, and he actually got what Christian was going through, because he too was bisexual.
They talked for months on end until Christian took the plunge and asked to meet up; they both lived in different areas of London, so it was easy to commute and plus, they seemed to be getting along as if they’d known each other since primary school, so what was the harm?
On the 16th of July 2010, after eagerly consuming a nutritious breakfast of avocado on toast, he kissed his mother on the cheek, grabbed his keys, and headed to meet this unnamed man.
It took everything he had not to throw up on the Underground train as he held his stomach and focused on the brown linoleum floor instead. He told himself that everything would be okay: they’d meet up, go to the park, eat a nice meal, and leave eagerly awaiting the next time meet again. They would be together for a few hours, but they would have so much fun that it would feel like five minutes.
He nodded to himself as he wiped a line of wetness from his eyes.
The next stop is Waterloo. Change here for the Jubilee Line, the Northern line, the Bakerloo line, and National Rail services.
His didn’t stand up until the last minute, ordering his legs to move as he stumbled on the platform.
Since the guy was driving there, he told him to meet him outside the station, so that was where he stood.
Fifteen minutes passed and, despite wearing the desired moss-green t-shirt and red skinny jeans, no-one had identified him. He checked his phone to see if he had texted; no luck. Christian cursed himself for forgetting to ask for his number too.
Twenty minutes.
Twenty-five minutes.
Twenty-six.
His phone vibrated.
Grabbing the phone, he opened the text that read: ‘As if, fag. You’ve been stood up xoxo’
Re-reading the message several times, he slipped the phone back into his jeans pocket and continued to wait. There was no way that someone that nice could stand him up. It wasn’t possible, he thought. They had built such a strong foundation, shared so many interests, and it was the first time he had ever felt that way about anyone, let alone another man. Someone must have stolen his phone or something.
His jaw tightened and a lump formed in his throat but he refused to cry. Every muscle was ordered to restrain the tears, but no-one can stop a flood with barriers made of paper.
Night time came but Christian stood where he was, looking forwards, keeping his eyes on a kebab shop opposite the road as if cheap, processed meat had the answer.
The next day, he was still there.
And the next.
And the next.
He refused to move.
Maybe there was a family emergency, he thought. Or a death. Maybe he’s too grief-stricken to text or call. I’m right where I said I’d be; he can’t miss me.
The reality of the situation never sunk in, never become his reality, so he stood there for days, weeks, months, and then years, anticipating a meeting that would never happen.
If you’re not scared of the so-called curse and you look into Christian’s eyes, you’ll understand what it means to be broken beyond repair.
Showing posts with label bisexual. Show all posts
Showing posts with label bisexual. Show all posts
Monday, 17 March 2014
Tuesday, 11 February 2014
#86 - Bi Erasure
Today’s words: Kaput, Jolly, Historical, Check in
Word count: 604
Completion time: 30 minutes
Summary: Being bisexual can sometimes feel like you’re stuck in limbo with the straight and queer community...made to feel insignificant by both sides when you desire acceptance from both
--
I had never been to a Brighton Pride before, so I felt particularly jolly and liberated that weekend; I was surrounded by people who understood and respected what it was like to be queer, something other than the heterosexual norm that I was forced to partake any time I turned on the TV or read any books. I wasn’t a passive character without development, I was the hero of my own story, someone with a group that for once had their voices heard, even amplified by pink glittery megaphones. Straight privilege seemed kaput for a weekend, and that comforted me, even if it was heavily constructed and artificial at times.
I stood tall within the mass of people; that was my crowd, those were my allies, I was one of them, I—
“Bisexual? That’s sort of half gay, right?”
“My mum calls it ‘one foot out of the closet’.”
My ears were lured to a conversation that took place right behind me. I decided to book a room and check in; my thoughts were with them and only them until I decided to check out again.
“My brother says that they just can’t make up their minds – straight or gay – so they pick an in-between until they can decide who they want.”
“This is why people don’t want to date a bisexual person...they could just change their mind and go for someone of the opposite sex.”
“You’re right. I know someone who dated a bisexual and they left them for another girl. You can’t test the food out from a buffet and put it back once you’re bored of it, that isn’t fair, it’s disgusting.”
“Bisexual people don’t know what it’s like for real gay people...they can go back to being straight if they run into any homophobes...gay people can’t.”
“So true. If a bisexual were dating someone of the opposite gender, no-one would even know that they were bi. They’re not oppressed, it’s just a convenient excuse to try and be quirky. Being gay is so much harder than being bi, bi people shouldn’t even be involved.”
“Yeah, why are they trying to hog some of the spotlight? You can’t choose to be a bit gay then go back to being straight, just like you can’t choose to be black for a day and go back to being white when you realise how oppressive it is on the other side.”
I checked out. I checked out in such a rush that I probably left half of my belongings in the unwelcoming room.
I had heard conversations like that before, but to hear it so blatantly, and on a day where queer people are supposed to feel proud and included? I had never felt so invisible. Where did I fit? It wasn’t in the straight community...nor was it in the queer community, apparently. So where was I supposed to go? Was I going to be forever stuck in limbo? People can’t tell me that I don’t exist, that I’m not valid; I’m standing right here, clear as day.
The conversation seemed historical in nature, something that, in several years’ time, they’d look back on and wonder why they ever said something so ignorant.
It was possible to fall for any gender at all, just as it was possible to fall for one.
With the muted conversation still, no doubt, continuing behind me I bit my lip, blinked back tears, and screamed my frustrations into the loud crowd full of vibrant colours and personalities.
It was my day, and no-one was going to make me feel bad for something that was out of my control.
Word count: 604
Completion time: 30 minutes
Summary: Being bisexual can sometimes feel like you’re stuck in limbo with the straight and queer community...made to feel insignificant by both sides when you desire acceptance from both
--
I had never been to a Brighton Pride before, so I felt particularly jolly and liberated that weekend; I was surrounded by people who understood and respected what it was like to be queer, something other than the heterosexual norm that I was forced to partake any time I turned on the TV or read any books. I wasn’t a passive character without development, I was the hero of my own story, someone with a group that for once had their voices heard, even amplified by pink glittery megaphones. Straight privilege seemed kaput for a weekend, and that comforted me, even if it was heavily constructed and artificial at times.
I stood tall within the mass of people; that was my crowd, those were my allies, I was one of them, I—
“Bisexual? That’s sort of half gay, right?”
“My mum calls it ‘one foot out of the closet’.”
My ears were lured to a conversation that took place right behind me. I decided to book a room and check in; my thoughts were with them and only them until I decided to check out again.
“My brother says that they just can’t make up their minds – straight or gay – so they pick an in-between until they can decide who they want.”
“This is why people don’t want to date a bisexual person...they could just change their mind and go for someone of the opposite sex.”
“You’re right. I know someone who dated a bisexual and they left them for another girl. You can’t test the food out from a buffet and put it back once you’re bored of it, that isn’t fair, it’s disgusting.”
“Bisexual people don’t know what it’s like for real gay people...they can go back to being straight if they run into any homophobes...gay people can’t.”
“So true. If a bisexual were dating someone of the opposite gender, no-one would even know that they were bi. They’re not oppressed, it’s just a convenient excuse to try and be quirky. Being gay is so much harder than being bi, bi people shouldn’t even be involved.”
“Yeah, why are they trying to hog some of the spotlight? You can’t choose to be a bit gay then go back to being straight, just like you can’t choose to be black for a day and go back to being white when you realise how oppressive it is on the other side.”
I checked out. I checked out in such a rush that I probably left half of my belongings in the unwelcoming room.
I had heard conversations like that before, but to hear it so blatantly, and on a day where queer people are supposed to feel proud and included? I had never felt so invisible. Where did I fit? It wasn’t in the straight community...nor was it in the queer community, apparently. So where was I supposed to go? Was I going to be forever stuck in limbo? People can’t tell me that I don’t exist, that I’m not valid; I’m standing right here, clear as day.
The conversation seemed historical in nature, something that, in several years’ time, they’d look back on and wonder why they ever said something so ignorant.
It was possible to fall for any gender at all, just as it was possible to fall for one.
With the muted conversation still, no doubt, continuing behind me I bit my lip, blinked back tears, and screamed my frustrations into the loud crowd full of vibrant colours and personalities.
It was my day, and no-one was going to make me feel bad for something that was out of my control.
Saturday, 8 February 2014
#85 - Hetero Incognito
Today’s words: Mark, Poison, Fund, Juvenile
Word count: 585
Completion time: 39 minutes
Summary: Is someone still bisexual even if they get with someone of the opposite gender? No. Obviously not. Bisexuals who get with people of the opposite gender realise that heterosexuality is where it’s at. They shed their bisexual skin and step into the tight-fitting lycra clothing of the glorious hetero.
--
I think that everyone goes through a ‘bicurious’ stage, whether it’s to add a little interest to one’s personality, or because yeah, they find people of the same gender attractive, no matter how deep or not those feelings go. Once, a classmate was willing to fund me if I kissed a girl in front of him; that was how attractive same-sex relations were, so no wonder people wanted to be affiliated with it. Only a few people graduated from ‘bicurious’ to ‘bisexual’, and I was one of them.
I was made to think of other girls as any smart person would think of poison – something to avoid and not to be ingested by any means. But, dear reader, I had already acquired a taste of the sweet nectar that was a fellow females’ lips, to go back after that was unthinkable.
The first girl was Charli, who I spent four months with. In her I saw my future, my only light, and to be around her would excite only positive emotions. I’ll never forget the way her body felt whenever we embraced. The second was Madeleine.
I met her when I was a little older and she entirely caught me by surprise. I never expected to fall for someone like her but, like an enthusiastic bungee jumper with a weak bungee cord, I fell, and hard. We met at a concert through a mutual friend and ended up kissing during a song (or several) that I don’t even remember the name of. I would have kicked myself a thousand times if I didn’t ask for her number, so I did. We were together for a little over two years until the magic just dissipated.
For eight years I indentified as bisexual, until I met him.
The juvenile affections that I shared with Charli and Madeleine were a mark or smudge on a page compared to my feelings for Owen.
Yes, I had shared many years with girls, but the introduction of a penis into my life and my vagina felt like a fire hose that blasted away any and all of my bisexual tendencies. How could a mere vagina compare to the powerful, regal stature of the phallus? There is no better cure for bisexuality in women than a penis; was it not Freud who said that women have penis envy? That is all the evidence you need, wayward reader.
What of the men who do not possess a penis? Well, men are superior in any way regardless, as society makes sure to tell us, so how could I ever think myself bisexual when women are far overshadowed by men?
Owen treated me better than any woman could: he kept my emotions in check, made sure to inform me what clothes looked best on me, and paraded me around like a trophy he had won in a football game. I felt wanted. Hell, I felt loved.
The next time that you ask if a woman is really bisexual when they get with a man, the answer is no, no we are not. Even though we were attracted to women in the same way that we were attracted to men, men are superior in intellect, strength, and performances of the carnal nature.
The promise of a relationship with a man has forever eliminated any deep affection that I ever had for women, and I am glad for it. I am glad that Owen has shown me the light, and that light is entirely occupied by men.
Word count: 585
Completion time: 39 minutes
Summary: Is someone still bisexual even if they get with someone of the opposite gender? No. Obviously not. Bisexuals who get with people of the opposite gender realise that heterosexuality is where it’s at. They shed their bisexual skin and step into the tight-fitting lycra clothing of the glorious hetero.
--
I think that everyone goes through a ‘bicurious’ stage, whether it’s to add a little interest to one’s personality, or because yeah, they find people of the same gender attractive, no matter how deep or not those feelings go. Once, a classmate was willing to fund me if I kissed a girl in front of him; that was how attractive same-sex relations were, so no wonder people wanted to be affiliated with it. Only a few people graduated from ‘bicurious’ to ‘bisexual’, and I was one of them.
I was made to think of other girls as any smart person would think of poison – something to avoid and not to be ingested by any means. But, dear reader, I had already acquired a taste of the sweet nectar that was a fellow females’ lips, to go back after that was unthinkable.
The first girl was Charli, who I spent four months with. In her I saw my future, my only light, and to be around her would excite only positive emotions. I’ll never forget the way her body felt whenever we embraced. The second was Madeleine.
I met her when I was a little older and she entirely caught me by surprise. I never expected to fall for someone like her but, like an enthusiastic bungee jumper with a weak bungee cord, I fell, and hard. We met at a concert through a mutual friend and ended up kissing during a song (or several) that I don’t even remember the name of. I would have kicked myself a thousand times if I didn’t ask for her number, so I did. We were together for a little over two years until the magic just dissipated.
For eight years I indentified as bisexual, until I met him.
The juvenile affections that I shared with Charli and Madeleine were a mark or smudge on a page compared to my feelings for Owen.
Yes, I had shared many years with girls, but the introduction of a penis into my life and my vagina felt like a fire hose that blasted away any and all of my bisexual tendencies. How could a mere vagina compare to the powerful, regal stature of the phallus? There is no better cure for bisexuality in women than a penis; was it not Freud who said that women have penis envy? That is all the evidence you need, wayward reader.
What of the men who do not possess a penis? Well, men are superior in any way regardless, as society makes sure to tell us, so how could I ever think myself bisexual when women are far overshadowed by men?
Owen treated me better than any woman could: he kept my emotions in check, made sure to inform me what clothes looked best on me, and paraded me around like a trophy he had won in a football game. I felt wanted. Hell, I felt loved.
The next time that you ask if a woman is really bisexual when they get with a man, the answer is no, no we are not. Even though we were attracted to women in the same way that we were attracted to men, men are superior in intellect, strength, and performances of the carnal nature.
The promise of a relationship with a man has forever eliminated any deep affection that I ever had for women, and I am glad for it. I am glad that Owen has shown me the light, and that light is entirely occupied by men.
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