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A: That is the most boring major.
Me: It’s the most practical.
A: Ok fine. Cis man, possibly bisexual—haven’t confirmed. Sexually confused, also early twenties, general studies major, and a virgin.
Me: This really is going to be a long story.
A: You asked.
And I’d ask again, because everyone deserves to have someone who’s there for them, willing to listen and understand no matter what. Everyone needs someone in their corner. I want to give the people who text this hotline the support I never had.
Me: Fire away, A.
Chapter 4
Atlas
I’ve never said any of this out loud before. Yes, I know. It isn’t technically out loud, but it’s close enough. My entire life I’ve just faked my way through sex smack talk and jokes and tits and ass that I really don’t give a shit about.
It’s weird to explain what’s in my head.
That attraction for me is this multifaceted thing with so many different factors I don’t know if I can articulate them all.
I’ve resorted to seeking answers and validation from strangers.
Fuck me.
Attraction doesn’t exist on a sexual scale for me. There’s no measure of how much I want to bang someone or how hot they are.
There’s the physical attraction where I like looking at them and wouldn’t mind touching or kissing, but the latter two desires aren’t always there at first.
Romantic attraction is what I feel the hardest. It’s what drives me to want to be with someone, to do whatever I can to make them happy.
Which unfortunately often leads to activities I’m not a fan of.
But there’s so much more to all of it. So many complexities. It can’t be this hard for everyone else.
You like someone. You want to bone them. Simple as that, right?
B: So you’ve never looked at someone and thought about fucking them.
Me: Never.
B: What about that guy the other night?
Me: No. Fucking him didn’t even cross my mind.
B: You comfortable telling me what did?
I throw an arm over my face and groan. Talking about this is embarrassing as shit. But if I’m ever going to figure this shit out, now is as good a time as any.
Me: at first, nothing. I was thinking about how good he looked. He’s always been nice to look at. It just never meant anything before.
B: It means something now?
Me: I don’t fucking know. You asked what I thought about, right? When the goddamn boner wouldn’t go away and I dealt with it, I didn’t think about anything. Nothing other than getting off like usual. But then it happened. Like a fucking gif in my head.
B: Someone’s being cryptic.
