Lock the closet door

I mentioned here that I live with a couple of guys who while not bros entirely are capable of emitting frattyness at alarmingly high levels. Getting intelligent conversation out of them, can be a Sisyphean endeavor. Often, our “conversations” boil down to obnoxious games of would you rather.

As in: "would you rather get a blowjob from 90's Jon Stamos or Rosie O'donnell today?

Being constantly bombarded with comparative lists of “gayness” for a litany of obscure and/or fictional sexual acts, listening to them impugn the worth of various female celebrities based on minor physical characteristics, or assertions that my preferences in entertainment indicate an interest in gobbling man meat, is tiresome, to say the least.

I should clarify that, individually they can all be OK dudes. but when they’re all together they have a tendency to slide towards the aforementioned fratitude very quickly. Most of this behavior is just how guys seem to relate world over, the constant verbal war for social dominance that I have little interest in participating in.

I usually, try and ignore it, try and avoid making any serious arguments in defense of anything, no mater how I feel as it only leads to more nonsense. But, the other day, I amazed by the way one of my roommates kept narrowing the spectrum of acceptable sexual acts with his never ending mockery, I flat out asked him what is the one thing he would refuse to do for his wife in bed? His answer came immediately, strap-on.

Here I really had to stifle myself. Not just because I would move heaven and earth for a woman who wants to strap one on,

Seriously, I would eat a brick for this.

but because I was surprised that pegging (which I thought was gaining increased mainstream acceptance) was more revolting to him than any of the various scatological acts he has joked about.

I didn’t make much of it because I don’t want to out myself when it comes to being “kinky.” It’s not like I’d face horrible consequences if I did, but I’ve learned that being yourself means putting up with a lot of obnoxious bullshit.

When I was in third grade I wanted to have blue hair. My mother having been a hair dresser and also being the coolest mom ever, said she’d do it for me. After buying the dye, we visited my grandmothers house, I told grandmother my plans and she said “I’m not sure I could love a grandson with blue hair.” fourth grade me was crushed and decided not to dye my hair.

A few years later I did go through with it, and for middle school and my first couple years in high school I had a different hair color every couple of months. I wasn’t a punk, or part of any social group, I just like the way it looked, I was being myself.

And you know what? I had to constantly hear stupid comments and jokes from everyone around me, friends, enemies, teachers, strangers. Everybody had a lame joke or irritating question. Same thing for the couple years in my small town high school where I had an eyebrow ring. It’s not worth it. Not to me at least. I don’t want to deal with other people’s bullshit assumptions about who I am based on their ideas about one aspect of myself.

Which is why I haven’t dyed my hair in years,  I took out my eyebrow ring,  got tattooed on easily hidden areas. Why I don’t tell my friends that I’m interested in BDSM, or that I want to meet a nice lady who will tell me what to do, and hit me when I’m bad, or when I’m  good, or whenever she feels like it.

So every once in a while when I see someone post about “why does anyone care what other people think? Go ahead and be openly kinky and fuck them if they can’t handle it.” All I can think about is, how many people I’d have to cut out of my life so I could be openly kinky and avoid putting up with bullshit.

I can’t do it. So for now, I’ll just lock the closet door, and wait for someone worth inviting in.

On second thought, the bed is probably more comfortable than the closet.