A/N: Explorative musing on sexuality and a must needed way for me to vent. I think you'll learn something if you read it. Beware though, it is not nice.


Sex is Subjective

He is looking at me, staring at me through wide eyes full of self-righteous judgment. He is gripping the arms of the chair so hard that the skin of his knuckles are turning white and I know this…I know this because I am looking at his knuckles.

At his shoes.

At his tie, noticing the way it clashes with his shirt so obscenely it causes me to go crossed eyed for a moment and I would think it was fucking hilarious if it wasn't for the current situation, because right now what he's wearing is not the point. The point is that I'm looking everywhere but his eyes.

I don't have to look at them to know what he's thinking so why deepen the sting by doing so?

I am an abomination.

I can tell by the way he slowly and shallowly inhales, almost as if he's afraid to breathe the same air, and I do not point out that those who view themselves higher then others should never fear those who are supposedly below them…what would be the point anyways?

He speaks, slowly, deliberately, and… dammit, I'm not a fucking child…but I don't point that out either.

Then he says it, says a combination of words that send a punch straight into my gut and for a moment I have to remind myself that it's not appropriate to laugh, no matter how bitter it may be.

"Don't you know how sex is supposed to be?"

I think about saying, "Would you like a text book answer or a more hands -on one?" But I don't. This guy has never had much of a sense of humor in the first place. You'd think a man of God would have learned to laugh a long time ago, otherwise he would have went crazy.

Truly, I don't know how to answer. Every phrase that runs through my mind is equally wrong and right at the same time. The idea of sex being one thing and not the other does not exist. So I come to one conclusion.

Sex is subjective.

Sex is whispered whimpers of unrelenting devotion and screams of repulsed self-loathing.

It is bending to the will of another and pushing for complete domination.

It is you in me and it is me in you.

You throwing your head back against the wall and me sobbing into your chest. You trying to change me and me begging you not to be changed and both of us failing to achieve our objectives.

Sex is covertly treading on the line of masochism and it is fucking the blade and asking for more.

Sex is making love…and it is fucking…and it is rutting and mounting and claiming and raping and every other negative word in all the languages known to man, because beautiful things wear ugly masks.

Sex is degradation.

Sex is trial after trial of men and women losing parts of themselves while you call me sick for trying to give it back.

Sex is the prostitute at the edge of your bed who slowly bends to hook her thumbs underneath her silk stockings and it is the virgin with bright eyes that opens her legs in terrified welcoming, and it is everything that falls in between.

And YES, sex is the husband that rapes his beaten wife while next door a man lays his male lover gently on the bed.

Yet, one of these is not how sex is supposed to be?

Can you speak to me with unrelenting accusations about the fires of hell that await me while you toss your wedding ring into the back pocket of your jeans and fuck another man's wife?

I am sin personified because I love a woman.

Because I love a person.

Because I love.

And you look at me and people like you look at me, and I know in that moment clearer than I have ever known anything that it is not God that I hate.

It is God's people that I hate…and love. Love them because they are my brothers and sisters, my mother and father, and hate them because they are my brothers and sisters, mother and father and because of that they should love me as well.

It is me that is forced into unwilling shame by God's people who hate what I stand for.

And I stand for love. No less, no more then that single word that should be what you stand for as well.

Hate is no substitute.

You are not saving me.

You are not blessing me.

You are condemning me.

And for what? For practicing the gift that God gave to his creations?

When did everything become a moral mind-fuck?

Do you jerk your cock over the pages of the Bible you love so much until the pages become smeared with the proof of your humanity and you can no longer read the words so you just make up your own?

Your theories on inequality dictate your ignorance.

Do not try to push me into submission. Do not try to force me to feel shame over something I have no control over. You will not win.

I will not feel guilty and I will not hate myself because you tell me that that is thinly way to save my soul.

God is my only judge and you are not his speaker.

So do not look at me with those eyes full of ignorance and hate and ask me to tell you what sex is supposed to be , because there is no answer to that.

Sex is an incomprehensible conundrum that you will never solve, and above all else…

…Sex is subjective.