Source unknown – Title Unknown (20XX)

There’s no stretch of imagination wherein this could conceivably be considered a ‘good’ image.

Still, it gets me extremely hot and bothered (given that a scenario like this is one of my top five unfulfilled fantasies).

Yes, like so many fantasies/paraphilias there’s the pure carnality of the proposition. In this case there’s something more subconscious–a sort of instinctual resonance.

I’ve vowed to try to explain it but it’s probably going to be messy–so I apologize in advance.

Two weeks ago, Andy Wachowski came out as Lilly. Together with her older sister, Lana–who is also transgender–The Wachowski Brothers, filmmakers responsible for Bound, The Matrix and my personal favorite Sense8–are now the Wachowski Sisters.

Apparently, Lilly wasn’t exactly ready to be publicly outed but a British tabloid had begun nosing around–so it was only a matter of time and Lilly decided to release a statement to a local Chicago news outlet.

It’s extremely well-written–clear, measured, thoughtful and profoundly sensitive. I can’t recommend it enough, really.

One of the things that stuck with me is the following quote attributed to Jose Muñoz:

Queerness is essentially about the rejection of a here and now and an insistence on potentiality for another world.

In truth, I’ve thought of myself as queer for longer than I’ve known their was a word that described my precarious relationship to other beings in this world. I’m lucky in that I’ve had some amazing queer folks with whom my narrative arc has intersected.

All of those folks have been far more comfortable identifying me as queer than I’ve felt with using the word to self-identify. Lately, however, that’s begun to shift.

I’m not a competitive person. The closest I get is pissed off and irritable when mediocrity gets elevated to ‘greatness’ by the tasteless masses. (See: Humans of New York.)

I’ve never understood the heterotypical mating game. I don’t want to win you because I don’t want to own anyone else. I want someone who chooses to be with me and who I choose to be with in return. I’ve always thought that it has to be one person. Increasingly, I know it doesn’t.

Between Complex PTSD and/or autism spectrum tendencies, I’m decidedly neuroatypical. I have friends who tell me about their perfectly compartmentalized lives–friends divided into spheres of influence: work, school, extra-curricular interests; and then potential lovers–which are sometimes not even one in the same with those who are sought for romantic entanglements.

Hearing them talk about it exhausts me. (I can’t even begin to fathom how someone would enjoy living that way.)

Given that with the most rose colored prognosis I’m socially awkward (and borderline anti-social is probably more accurate), those few people that I care a great deal about while I don’t think our entanglement has to necessarily be sexual, I don’t understand the imaginary boundary that renders sexuality off limits.

I guess I just see it like this: sometimes a carefully considered kind word is enough to comfort someone, sometimes it takes a hug or holding hands through a shoulder wracking sobbing fit. And it seems there are times when someone is lost and that giving them pleasure, just seems to be the only thing that might possibly help sooth the hurt. But not just as a means of fighting against the darkness of sad times, as a way to share joy, express trust, etc.

I believe in the possibility of another world. For the last six and a half years, it’s felt like it’s only me that feels this way.

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