My sexual Identity - or this box has many labels

In a perfect world my sexuality should not be a problem but as we who live on earth know life on this planet is far from perfect. Most of the struggle is human made but knowing this does not always make it better. In this reality however it seems that my sexuality is everyones problem, which used to be a very sore point for me, but now at the tender age of 49 I cold not care less about. I have been labeled, Bi, sexual deviant, lesbian, whore, pansexual, queer, poser, lost, confused, coward, preditor all in account of my sexuality. What am I really? I guess it depends on the prism you observe me through.

I personally define myself as pan sexual and also fall under the umbrella term Queer. Basically I fall in love with people not genders not labels. I have dated Men, Woman born in their gender and not. My first male love at 3 was my cousin who broke my heart when he liked the neighbours girl better and ultimately broke all girls hearts when he married his husband.

My first female love was a singer on the Queen Elisabeth the second. I was 6 and while I do not remember her name I remember a lot about her, she was slender redhead with porcelain skin who smelled of flowers and baby powder. She was British and lived with her boyfriend, who was the ships mentalist, in a tiny cabin in the employee section of the ship. I first saw her in the first class dining hall she was wearing a gold dress and the song she was singing was “you are the apple of my life”. That song will always be irrevocably connected to her. I followed her like a moth drawn to light and she let me. she was kind to me indulged me I will always cherish how sweet she was to the little somber girl who became her shadow. In parting she gave me a stuffed Octopus I had the thing with me until 2015 where it was destroyed by water damage. I remember writing to her for a while but children are not good in keeping up with people I wonder where she is now and if she knows that I still carry a part of her with me to this day.

One of the great loves of my life was a Drag Queen who Identified as Gay and who I shared with a string of boys and men who he all loved and cherished with his incredibly big heart. He was smart , educated fabulously decadent with very expensive taste that he thankfully was able to afford. He had more cloths, shoes, wigs and makeup in that rooftop apartment then I will ever have in a lifetime. He was nurturing and a fabulous cook, but his best quality was that he was genuinely interested in people and strived to make their lives better; be it with advice, a meal or a exchange of currency (for the fly boys who never had money to make rent). He never expected anything in return but was always more than appreciative for anything he was given, be it material, spiritual or a delicious one night stand. He taught me so much, from how to do makeup to how love should be. He taught me that real love does not possess and he strengthened my belief that jealously has no place in a relationship and that there can be room for more than one person in a happy relationship as well. He refined my sensibilities and fostered my artistic pursuits. He was mentor in so many ways and I owe him more than I can say. This was one of my happiest if not the happiest relationship of my life. It ended when I moved out of country, amicably full of love and with unfulfilled promises as fate decided to take him from this earth to soon making it a tiny bit less sparkly and flamboyant.

Coming out to my Mother and through her to my stepfather was brutal. My childhood after the age of 7 was problematic and after the age of 10 was pure hell on rocket fuel. I always say if you have seen the movie mommy dearest you have my childhood and youth in a nutshell, with one difference I got to keep the presents. In fact when it came to the material She could be obscenely generous but this generosity came with a price she expected you to sell your soul and mind to her and I was notoriously bad at that. What possessed me to even tell her I don’t even know or remember anymore my PTSD has erased years of my childhood, some completely some partially, but I do remember the aftermath. The insults the slap in the face, her screaming at me for an hour straight. The first thing she said was that I was not gay, as I she knew I liked boys as well, and that this made me a whore who just wanted to fuck whatever came around. The insults and badgering went on for years, she would berate me about it when she was in a bad mood. Once in the car on a trip to our winter chalet for 8 hours almost non stop! There was no escaping it, although I did think of jumping out of the driving car never mind that we were racing down the Autobahn. It was horrifically surreal, my mother yelling at me and her husband telling my mortified younger siblings (who are 11 and 16 years younger than me) the intricacies of female to female oral sex. My step dad head red as a beet under his combover yelling and yelling “your sister does this disgusting stuff she puts her tongue in other peoples pussyyyyyyy” (it always amazes me how my so prim and proper parents get so vulgar when they talk to me or about me). At the time this happened I was 19 and had just moved back from America (dumbest move I ever made) and was pregnant with my daughter. This episode scarred my then 3 year old sister so much that she was in denial about her own sexuality for most of her life and only came out as gay the last 5 years. Last year she married her wife and thankfully my parents were more, yet not totally, accepting of her choices (My mother is on record saying it is a make believe wedding my stepdad always the better person is supportive). They have evolved some, although I have never once received an apology for the nightmare they put me though.

My relationship to the “community” has been problematic as well. In my younger years I had some really harsh experiences in the Cologne Lesbian scene. At the time being Bi, as I identified at the time, was frowned upon in a big way. If I got a penny for each time I was told that I was either confused, just wanting to fit in with “normal society” or refusing to commit I would be a millionaire by now. The reception I received at the time made me retreat out of the community and to the fringes with a few LGBT and Cis friends, dipping my feet into the major events like pride, or rallies/protests, but staying away from the community as a whole. Time passed and overall it seems that the community is more accepting then in the times my 23 year old self received such frigid welcome. Society evolves even that of LGBT that is now the more inclusive LGBTQIA. At 49, soon to be 50 on April 13th, I am finally ready to maybe come in from the woods and fringes, we will see how it goes.