What is about me that is repelling people, or failing to attract them, or just putting me in some neutral category (apart from me actually being neuter, I mean)?
Should I just wholesale change everything about myself?
I am beginning to contemplate hormones. I hate the idea, but even more I hate the idea of being untouched for another year or more. But what is my integrity worth to me, when I like my body as it is, and particularly the way my internal androgyny is manifested in my body? But a month or so of oestrogen from the chemists would give me a younger softer girlier face and enough breast to gender me and maybe lead gynophilic men to make a pass at me.
I know it's not all chemical, but I also know it's more about chemicals than most people realise, dousing themselves with alcohol and petrochemicals from a famous name bottle.
Maybe the problem is that I am too damn critical of normal people and their advertising-driven choices. Fuck it, normal people voted to endorse the murder of Iraqis and Afghanis and for the inhumane detention of refugees, and they are killing their great-grandchildren's future with their devotion to conspicous consumption.
I want to meet more hippies.
I feel like I might need anti-depressants. I have been on the edge of crying all day, and it's just not unusual anymore. Would it be cheating to take some chemical that mimics the chemicals that the body produces as a result of healthy functioning that includes sexual activity?
The terrorist thought has been identified, but it is proving hard to be free from, for it pulses forward in every unguarded moment. "No man I know wants to have sex with me." It keeps popping up as if I'm hoping it will prompt some antidote to be found. And the alternative beliefs (eg"Some man will be drawn to who I am the more I honestly express who I am") can't stand up to the assault from my experience of the last few years, where I've gone optimistically into so many situations that proved unfecund.
The anniversary of the Queeruptions sex party has just passed. Maybe that' s on my subconscious. It really beggars belief that anyone remotely attractive could go to a queer sex party hoping to get laid and not get laid. I think maybe I'm only attractive on stage and not in real life. But I am damn sure I'm not at all attractive when I am thinking the terrorist thought.
Counter terrorist thought squad, present arms!
Fire one! "I'm too sexy for your Dad."
Fire two: "I am entirely comfortable with everything about the human body."
Fire three: "Most people are as sexy as they make up their minds to be".
(Thanks to Abraham Lincoln for inspiring that last volley.)
Fuck it, I'm forty five (soon), and I've survived everyting that's killed my peers, so I'll survive this.
I'm just special, like Camel cigarettes ("They're not for everyone"). But I could do with a hump or two ; )