#106 - Goodbye, Camp, Gay Male

Today’s words: Exorcism, piercing, rainbow, Chanel

Word count: 108

Completion time: 19 minutes

Summary: Stupid stereotypes

--

Hello, camp, gay man trope

Hello to your feminine style

Tight jeans, tight top

Fashion designer look

Chanel, Armani, Gucci

Hello, epitome of rainbows

Everything fabulous

Flamboyant

Hello, flick of the wrist

Hello, high pitched laugh

Hello, right ear right queer piercing



I want to perform an exorcism on you

I want everyone to see

That underneath that feminine fashion

It’s possible to be gay

Without being camp.



I want to force the two apart

Stop them from being synonymous

Because when you say someone’s ‘really gay’

You mean camp

And when you say someone’s camp

You think they’re gay



Stop.

This is not accurate gay representation

...Stop.

#104 - Girls Only

Today’s words: Lesbian, Melancholy, Sorbet, Submission

Word count: 400

Completion time: 26 minutes

Summary: Sexuality isn’t as black and white as it seems

--

I’m sat in the conservatory, listening to the stabbing drops of rain and spooning strawberry sorbet, pretending that it’s summer. Everything seems a little brighter then.

My eyes are closed to forget the melancholy mood and I’m sat on a beach under a parasol, watching children run around in swimsuits that are too big for them, hair stuck to their faces from the sea and sweat, and, as if to interrupt me, he pops into my head again.

I’m forced to submission as the cold dessert hits my back tooth and a sharp, searing pain runs through my mouth. Winching, I tilt my head and try to focus on the beach again, eyes squinted in the thirty-degree sun. My skin prickles with goosebumps and I think harder – the excited voices, the sandcastles, the sea, him emerging from it, eyes glinting as he stares at me.

I drop the spoon and suck the sweet flavour from my tongue.

I’m not supposed to have these feelings. I told everyone that I was a lesbian years ago, so I can’t go back on it now. I can’t let them think that I did it just for attention, to get guys to like me, or because I wanted a free pass to make out with girls. It had been seven months now, seven months since I first met him, seven months since I tried to stop him from entering my head. Out of bounds, you know? Girls only.

Once you come out, it feels like there’s no going back. You’ve said it, out loud. You’ve told everyone you’re this, meaning you’re not anything else. What’s worse is...the people who said it was just a phase...they’ll think they were right all along when that isn’t the case. I can tell them that they don’t know me at all, they’ll reply with, “You don’t even know yourself.”

I wrap my hands around myself and lightly squeeze my upper arms.

Fuck it. Fuck labels. I’m not going to restrict myself just because the ‘lesbian’ tag says I’m not allowed. Do Not Remove. Like the label on mattresses. Fuck, I’m not a mattress, I’m a person...a person who has the ability to change her mind, no matter what people conclude.

Picking up the spoon again, I scoop the last sloshy red bits from the cup and press them against the roof of my mouth.

I’ll tell him tomorrow.

#91 - Catching the Gay

Today’s words: Committee, Ray, Blood, Grade

Word count: 482

Completion time: 30 minutes

Summary: A boy desperately tries to chase away any gay feelings he may or may not harbour

--

When Cyprus was young, he thought that being gay was contagious. If a gay person sneezed on him, coughed in front of him, or if their blood somehow got mixed in with his, he was certain he’d grow up gay.

To try and battle this paranoia, in tenth grade, he put up an abundance of posters featuring scantily clad women in suggestive poses that were to act like medicine and repel any dormant homosexual feelings. He’d stare at his walls and burn the images into his retinas as he got into bed and touched himself, proving that he was straight, proving that if he came, he was definitely hetero. That was his ray of hope, his light at the end of the tunnel. He was straight. He was sure of it. The orgasms and desire to do nasty, borderline illegal things to the poster-women proved it.

When he reached university age (still a hardcore hetero, in case you were wondering), his ideas about ‘catching the gay’ had been muted by maturity, but he was still homophobic. He got the idea that gay people desired to make straight men gay too, not by a transferring of bacteria or blood cells, but by flirtation and coercion. He had no real evidence for this claim, but it stuck in his mind like a hardened piece of blu-tack.

At the final event for the first years, he followed the swarm of people to check out clubs that he might want to join. Rowing looked appealing, so did Climbing, maybe he’d even have a try at Kung Fu if he felt up to it. His eyes scanned the tables that were manned by students with encouraging smiles, willing people to check out their society. He smiled politely at most of them until he spotted the ‘LGBT community’. The committee members looked just as bright and cheerful as the rest of the groups in the room, which made Cyprus feel a little irritated, even offended.

The guy who was sat in the middle with short, neatly trimmed hair locked eyes with Cyprus and grinned, raising his eyebrows slightly. He had seen the guy before, but had no idea he was affiliated with that group. His temperature rose rapidly.

“Fuck this,” he said internally, pushing his way past the group of first year students to get to the exit.

Once he was out, he sat on a bench by the edge of the university grounds and snapped his eyes shut, grunting under his breath. The pulsating feeling in his crotch intensified, making him cross his legs and rest his forehead on his knees.

Once he had spent a sufficient amount of time burning the guy’s image from his brain, he got up and took the next bus home.

For the rest of the day, he decided to watch girl-on-girl videos in an attempt to detach himself from anything gay.

#74 - I'm Not Gay, I'm Dating a Girl

Today’s words: Incarnate, Zest, Troubled, Posture

Word count: 624

Completion time: 50 minutes

Summary: It’s never that easy to hide your sexuality...something’s going to give eventually

--

It wasn’t very fair on her, but they had the same eyes, same relaxed posture when sitting down, same zest for life that encouraged me to try my best; to me they were the same person. Not to mention the fact that they were twins. They weren’t identical, but when I found out that they shared the same womb for nine months, my brain made up similarities that would have remained undetected otherwise. It’s a very exhausted stereotype that twins were two parts of a whole, but I couldn’t help myself...I suppose that the more similar I found them, the easier it was to deal with my troubled mind and fucked up situation.

Jody was bisexual, and he didn’t hide it so most people knew and he didn’t care...that’s what was so attractive about him – his confidence. A few people had made fun of him in the past but it didn’t seem to get to him, he’d just laugh it off and play along because he was secure in his sexuality; that and Kim was likely to raise hell like Satan incarnate if anyone crossed paths with her brother.

Kim. She was the person I originally went for, and it took me a while to realise that I had chosen the wrong gender, let alone the wrong sibling. Don’t get me wrong, she was great and still is, but it was Jody who had a futon reserved in my heart. However, instead of breaking up with her when I realised, I pretended that she was Jody to try and make it work. Now, they didn’t look very similar at all, so my imagination got a bit of a workout and my eyes were closed a lot more often – when we would cuddle on the sofa, when she gave me blowjobs, when she fell asleep on my chest.  And it worked – I got hard, I performed well, and we were both happy, so what was the harm [?] I asked myself.

Dishonesty. I hated myself. I could pretend that everything was okay, but Kim was in love with a lie, a projection of someone she thought she knew. Someone she thought loved her back. Someone she thought wasn’t, could never be, gay. How could a gay man kiss her, touch her, fuck her like that? If someone insisted that I was gay, she wouldn’t have believed them.

Why didn’t I just tell everyone the truth, tell Kim that I didn’t, couldn’t like her anymore because I liked Jody? Then tell Jody exactly what I told Kim? No-one knew that I was gay, and I had only been informed a couple of months earlier when I found myself on the ‘gay’ section of a porn site, wanking through about four videos before noticing that something was up. Liking guys doesn’t automatically make someone gay, but it made me question everything and eventually I concluded that I didn’t feel the same about girls as I did about guys, not even close. But by then, I had already been seeing Kim for five months.

So what did I do about Kim? Furthermore, what did I do about Jody? I had to end it with Kim eventually, I couldn’t keep it up...what if she wanted to get serious? I couldn’t pretend to love her as a serious partner, a husband, a father, all the while stealing glances at Jody and mind-wanking to explicit fantasies at family events. As for Jody, I decided that I couldn’t go there after I’d dipped my nib in the family ink, so I forced myself to move on and find another guy.

I haven’t found him yet, but I know he’s out there and when I find him, I’ll tell him how I feel.

#69 - Girls Girls Girls

Today’s words: Copy, Riband, Distribute, Establish

Word count: 490

Completion time: 23 minutes

Summary: Sometimes the things you want to say can’t come out

--

At school, I always copy the other girls. I listen to music in the charts, gossip about celebrities I don’t know, and tell them all about some guy I liked.

That was the hard bit.

It was difficult to establish exactly what made the guy so special, why I chose him over the others. Was it the way he styled his hair? His smile? How friendly he was? Just exactly what was it about him that I was supposed to highlight? The other girls would go on about how ‘cute’ certain boys were, or how they were so ‘hot’ and which ones they wanted to kiss, but I found it hard to make that up without sounding like a bad actress in an equally rubbish film. That’s exactly it...it sounded like a performance.

Each girl would get her turn in the spotlight to drool over some guy and everyone would have to sit and listen, occasionally squealing or prodding for further information, a little like an animal at a zoo that they want to hear growl again. I didn’t have to do it, but if I didn’t, I was scared that they’d find out.

“Yeah, he’s nice, I really like him.”

I thought I could leave it at that, but apparently I had to expand, I had to distribute words for them like playing cards that they could hold between their fingers and analyse, or scrutinise.

“Why do you like him?? I heard he eats his own eye gunk.”

Well what made their guys so special? They were either dirty, vulgar, mean, unsympathetic, ugly, or all five at the same time. And the ones that weren’t felt like siblings, people I’d never want to go out with for fear of feeling morally unsound.

Then, of course, there was the question of why I didn’t make any moves on them, or why I never talked about them much afterwards. I said that I didn’t like them as much anymore, so they’d ask if I liked anyone else. Foolishly I said yes, but hastened to add that they didn’t know him, that he went to another school.

“What’s he like? Go on, tell us!”

He’s...he’s, beautiful, I suppose. He has long flowing hair and the way he smells always makes me hungry. He always wears a blue riband on his backpack from when he got second place in a cooking contest a few years ago. Sometimes, when we’re just sitting around, I’ll steal several glances at him and wonder how on earth anyone could look so good, so perfect. Oh and his laugh...it didn’t sound like a regular laugh, it sounded like the titter of a shy choir before a big performance at the Albert Hall, real sweet, you know?

“Wow, he sounds amazing!”

Well yeah, he is amazing. He’s better than that, he’s...incredible.

I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to tell them that he didn’t exist, but she did.

#51 - It Doesn't Matter

Today’s words: Orange, Backpack, Hand sanitiser, pain

Word count: 342

Completion time: 1 hour

Summary: You can know the ins and out of someone, but that doesn’t mean they’ll love you back

--

Your backpack is dark grey, almost black

The original stitching has been re-done in pink

You walk unsteady because you’re conscious of people staring

You chew gum ‘cause you don’t like to talk much

Last term you shouted out the wrong answer in French and didn’t talk for two days

Your smile is crooked, but you refused braces twice

The mole by your cheekbone looks like a misshapen heart

You still stick your tongue out when someone’s mean to you

You like to pretend that your new haircut was supposed to be that short

You’re the height I want to be, but you wish you were shorter

When you smile, your eyes are usually closed

You have two dimples on your left cheek when you do

I know all this because I’ve known you for five years

You still can’t get my name right

In the corridor by E2, I heard you call someone’s shoes ‘gay’

This made me frown, but I pretended you said ‘okay’

It didn’t work

Would someone who’s...make a joke that’s...?

Everyone has a curious stage

And some people realise that it isn’t curiosity

It’s real

We started talking when we were put in the same music group

Tuesday, 9am, Mr Stanley, Music Room 2

I hated waking up early until then

I thought the bass was boring ‘til you played it

I never listened to dance before you played me The Prodigy

I’d never been that shaky until you offered me your left earphone

We were acquaintances ‘til we became friends

But when I said I hated pain, you said you hated orange

When I told you I felt sad, you told me that you were sad once

When I said I was cold, you said to wear more layers

When I told you I felt dirty, you bought me hand sanitiser for Christmas

When I said imagine if...you said it was pointless to do so

When I said I loved you, you took your earphones out and said, “What?”

I smiled and said it doesn’t matter

#33 - Only The Cheapest Love

Today’s words: Inexpensive, Rich, Useful, Basket

 

Word count: 517

Summary: Imagine a world where straight people felt safe in their love, and people of other sexualities didn't....oh, wait.

Completion time: 1 hour 10 mins

~

When I’m walking down the street, people never fail to stare at the basket I’m holding. Once they’ve had a good ol’ gander, they look at me like a bad stink or clearly feel sorry for me. Blinking back the occasional tear, I just hold onto the wicker handle tighter and force my head high, no matter who tries to bring me down.

I’ve had over-confident men try to steal it from me, older people knocking it from my hands as if I’m not worthy of it, and many people creating a path for me as I walk by like what I’m carrying is radioactive.

If you’re 'normal', you get a state-of-the-art briefcase to hold your partner’s heart…if you’re not, you get an inexpensive basket. That’s ‘just the way the world works’, or so my parents told me when I started developing crushes on other girls.

“But, what, that isn’t fair, why can’t I have a cool briefcase too?” I protested, knotting my eyebrows together, confused.

“Only straight people are allowed the briefcases, honey.”

I stole a look at my parents’ wine-coloured briefcases that were set on the floor next to each other. They were like a pair of shoes that I would be forever doomed to look at but never own. “No way…but why?”

“We live in a very hetero-normative society, and…” my father tried to explain after he cleared his throat.

“Hetero-what?”

“It means that heterosexual is the norm, so anything else is…” being careful to choose the right words, he added, “abnormal, not publicly accepted.”

Mum took over, putting one leg over the other and leaning forwards. “How many heterosexuals have you seen on TV or in the media?”

I answered as I looked at the blank TV screen. “Loads…” the question wasn’t very difficult. “I see them all the time.”

“Exactly, and how many people who aren’t?”

I thought about that question harder and turned back to her. “Sometimes.”

“You see?”

“…But wait, why a basket?”

“Well, baskets aren’t very useful for holding things securely. People don’t want you to feel comfortable with your love, and baskets have no locks, zips, or anything else for protection.”

“And I reckon that people will expect you to give up eventually because you’re sick of your partner’s heart being so vulnerable.”

I was scared. Scared to fall in love...and I didn't even know what 'love' was yet.

My mother took both of my hands in hers. “But I just want you to know, no matter whom you choose to love, you are not beneath anyone, alright? You’re a fucking warrior princess.”

My father’s eyes widened and he scolded my mum. “Susan!”

I laughed, blushing slightly for hearing my mum swear.

“Now, when you do fall in love, I want you to hold that basket tight with your head held high. Defend that girl’s heart for all it’s worth; promise me that.”

With my mother’s words still ringing in my ears, I raised my head higher; I was rich, far richer than society would have me believe. 

My basket was cheap, but with her heart inside, its worth rivaled the rarest of gems.

#32 - Say It

Today’s words: Overt, Second, Reward, Confused

Word count: 712

Completion time: 1 hour 20 mins

Summary: Don’t miss out on the opportunity to tell someone how you really feel

~

It had only been two months since I timidly opened the closet door, so looking at attractive guys still made me feel uneasy, perverse, and scared to death. It was as if everyone in the bar was judging me if I so much as smiled at another man. Walking to the bar for another drink, I immediately changed my mind and ran outside.

Once I was out, I snuck a look back towards the bar; it was definitely him. Ash. His hair was short and tousled, he had biceps that could probably kill a man if he got them in a headlock, and an array of tattoos dominated his left arm; in short, his overt Wolverine-like masculinity probably meant that he had never daydreamed about kneeling on the bed whilst I gripped his hips and...

“Hey, Marcus?”

I managed to hold back a squeal as the guy writhing about in my daydream was suddenly standing next to me in the flesh; naked. ...Okay, not naked, but the daydream wasn’t quite over.

Instead of responding accordingly, I nodded once, opened my mouth, and waited for something to come out. Nothing came.

“So it was you! What are you doing out here?” he smiled wide and set his drink on the ground before looking for something in his jeans pocket.

“Fresh air.” I fanned myself as proof.

Nodding a few times, he took a cigarette packet from his pocket and held it out to me.

“No, I’m okay.”

He shrugged, lit a cigarette and stood next to me, blowing a smooth stream of smoke from his nostrils.

Hey...hey Marcus.

No, Drunk Marcus.

I dare you...

Nope, not listening.

I dare you to tell him how you feel.

...Are you crazy?!

I double-dare you.

What the hell? How can I say, “It would feel great to kiss you.”

...You got your inside and outside voices mixed up.

What are you talking about?

“What did you say?” Ash threw away his barely-smoked cigarette and looked at me.

I was confused. “I didn’t say anything?”

Squinting one eye, he stared at me for a few seconds before grabbing my shoulders, kneeling slightly, and bringing his face close to mine. Everything went blurry.

“Tell me what you just said.”

“I said, ‘I didn’t say anything’.”

“Before that, idiot.”

“Your face...” I struggled to swallow a lump in my throat. “It’s too close. People will get the wrong idea.” He couldn’t be seen with a pervert like me, not like that. I was extremely close to crying. “I...I,” the tears were pretty much on their way out, “I need to go--”

Before I could make it through the doors again, everything went dark and my body felt like it was floating. Just as I was about to fall back, someone caught me. I could taste nicotine...but I didn’t smoke.

My vision came back and Ash was still in front of me with my face between both of his palms. All that I saw was him. My daydreams were often vivid, but that was the most vivid that they had ever been. Though it only made me want to cry harder, so I pushed him away and headed for the toilet.

“You tell a guy to kiss you then when he does, you run away??”

My feet, heart, and breathing stopped. I turned around. “What? Why would you...who said...” Help me.

He took my hand and led me back outside. Exhaling, he pursed his lips and spoke. “I wanted to kiss you, too. I’ve wanted to for a while.”

Who is making him say such things?? I checked his face for any robot-like traits.

“If it was just drunken rambling, then--”

“What? No, I’m gay. I’m very gay.” Shut the frick up, Drunk Marcus!

He laughed so loudly that it was the only sound I heard until he stopped. “You want a reward for that?”

I blushed horrendously. “No...no, I mean, that wasn’t...ngh.”

“You’re supposed to say ‘yes’ so that I can kiss you again,” he whispered.

All I could do was look at him, at his face, and his hand that was still holding mine. Squeezing it a little to confirm that it was real, I looked down and whispered, “Uh...yes.”

He grinned. “Thought you’d never ask.”