Stephanie and Mike talk about whatever issues or questions you have. This episode’s question(s):
Here is a one-sentence (tl;dr) summary of this extremely long story: I think I am gay/bi but I am not sure.
What follows is a deep description of the thoughts in my head during my teenage years and how it relates to women in my life. The beginning describes what I was/am thinking, and the latter portion describes how I feel because of it.
Hi guys, I am a male college student. Only recently have I had the courage to write to someone (anyone) about what’s been on my mind recently regarding my sexual orientation. Writing this email will not be easy, and I hope that you guys can help put my mind at ease.
I don’t know when it first happened, but ever since I was very young (<9 years old) I have fascinated about being tied up/restrained. I don’t know if it was the puzzle aspect of it, the helplessness aspect of it, or something else. But all I know is that I wanted people to tie me up, and that I enjoyed the struggle. (Just as an aside, I think it is ironic that someone so concerned with freedom and liberty could enjoy having it taken away. :p)
Over time my interest grew stronger, and I slowly acquired various bondage toys. I started with real police handcuffs. Then came the ankle cuffs. Then came the hospital bed restraints. The most recent toy I have is my most awesome straight jacket. Yes: A real institutional straight jacket. I experience an ineffable feeling when I am tightly strapped up in it.
Allow me to provide some background information:
Starting in the middle of my four-year high school indoctrination, I noticed that I kept staring at this blond haired kid. He was thin but muscular, played LaCrosse, was in good shape, was extremely popular with the ladies, and he dressed in middle-upper level clothes (not preppy, but not bland either). Being an unfashionable, nerdy, arrogant, and pedantic programmer, I found myself “jealous” of him. I wanted to emulate him and his demeanor. I started going to the mall to buy nicer clothes from stores such as American Eagle and Pacsun. I can think of two possible reasons why I wanted to emulate him. He represented everything that I wasn’t: laid-back, care-free, popular, physically strong, and most important of all, happy (at least I think). I was a stuck up, arrogant, physically weak, unpopular, and unhappy kid. Over time, and in a Freudian sort-of way, I think might have actually been attracted to him.
The kid had what I could best describe as a “California”-like attitude: He was loud and used a lot of slang. Common phrases include, “This shit is whack!”, and “Aiight, jus chillin’ bro”. I then had a conundrum: I wanted to emulate him, but at the same time I felt that if I did, I would be a poser. I’d be fake. It just didn’t feel right to speak in the manner that he did, because I articulated myself in a manner similar to Lew Rockwell or Tom Woods (whose articles I often read).
At this point I was a senior in high school. I ditched my Nike-style clothing and slowly but surely ended up dressing like he did. However, I was only superficially happy with the change. This is where the bondage toys came in.
It is extremely difficult for one to put himself in to a straight jacket alone. In exchange for bandwidth, a friend of mine would come over my house, restrain me in the jacket, and then leave (my parents were at work). I figured out how to escape from the jacket using a door handle, and had become quite good at it.
Straight jackets (real ones, anyway) have a strap that goes through the crotch that prevents the wearer from pulling the jacket over their head. While restrained in the jacket, and having the whole house to myself, I would wriggle around on the ground. Due to how intentionally tight I pulled the crotch strap, it would rub against my genitals. The more I would wriggle on the ground, the more pleasure I got both mentally and physically. The mental aspect of there being “no escape” and the physical aspect of the crotch strap eventually overpowered me, and I ended up spilling my seed in my jeans (the nice ones that I bought to emulate the kid described earlier).
The erotic thoughts going through my mind consisted of how awesome it was to be restrained — no hope, no escape. But as time progressed, more thoughts entered my head as my eyes were closed and I laid restrained on the ground. I thought about the blond-haired kid from school: I imagined him physically pinning me, putting me in the jacket and restraining my legs and torso to the bed. I wanted to be restrained and I wanted to be overpowered… but not by just anyone. I wanted to be pinned by this particular person. I wanted to resist him, and I wanted to lose.
I became pretty much addicted to the jacket because using my hand was just so boring. I would do anything to be put in it. My friends and I would have “sleepovers” as our parents knew them, but they really involved us blazing. I didn’t care about the cannabis though… I just wanted to be straight jacketed, have my ankles tied together, be put in a dark room alone, and have my way with myself. My friends granted my request too, although they didn’t know about the erotic part. For all they knew I was the next Harry Houdini.
During the school day I would look at other guys and immediately size them up. If a kid looked scrawny, fat, old, hairy, or weak I would not have any erotic thoughts about them. If they looked like strong skateboarders or wrestlers in loose semi-preppy clothing, then I would have those thoughts about them (note: when I say skateboarders I do *not* mean those pasty, tight pants wearing, frail looking emo kids). It appeared from an external perspective that I wanted to fight them, but internally I wanted them to wrestle and restrain me just as I have described with the blond-haired kid. I felt that these people were best able to restrain me even if I put up a struggle. For various reasons (losing a fight and having it posted on Youtube, discovering cannabis, and finding the freedom message) I did not want to fight anyone. Instead, I became friends with a lot of these people (some better than others).
I moved on to college not knowing a single person. I started over again, thinking about certain people who I believed had the same build and demeanor as the blond-haired kid. I eventually became mutual friends with such a person, and now I consider him to be the best friend I’ve ever had. Although he knows about my toys, he doesn’t know that when I self-pleasure myself, I think about him restraining me.
I am now trying to figure out if I am gay/bi or not.
I do not fit any of the gay stereotypes, so one can not look at me and call me gay. Moreover, when I have those erotic thoughts I do not think about male genitalia at all. I am slightly concerned because I have never had a girlfriend and I still have my virginity (at age 19). It seems to me like every single other person my age (especially at college) is an experienced sex addict. I could be having a conversation with friends, and they will stop listening to me when they see a girl’s breasts and ass. It is frustrating.
Speaking of which, when I see a “good looking” girl (as deemed by culture), I do not get turned on. The only reason I ever look at a girl’s chest (for example) is to read the text on her t-shirt. I never watch porn, but I see naked women in advertisements on torrent sites and am not at all turned on.
One time I was driving my parents to a party in a near-by town so that they could safely get drunk together. A couple my age was walking down the street, and my dad saw me noticeably turn my head to look. He made a comment about how good looking that girl was, and that I had good taste. I just said, “Yeah” and did a mental sigh, because I was actually sizing up the guy as I have described earlier. The girl never even crossed my mind.
In another instance, my dad did a mental sigh to himself when he helped me move out of my dorm room for the summer and saw that the box of condoms my mom got me was unopened.
I am not opposed to women, but I just don’t get excited about them either. I am not shy at all, because I am very confident, and I am able to talk to all kinds of people in all kinds of situations. I even have some female platonic relationships. But when it comes to flirting with a girl I clam up. I just feel so awkward, because flirting with a girl makes me feel fake, as if I shouldn’t be doing it because it is not who I am.
I hate when people talk to me about how hot/sexy a girl is, and how they would like to fuck them six ways from Sunday. Think about the emotional disconnection that exists between regular and autistic people. They just *can’t* relate to you on an emotional level. In the same way, I can’t empathize with the people who get all worked up over a girl. Considering that most of the male population on this planet does get sexually worked up over this female beauty, I feel “different” than everyone else, and my mind is not at ease because of this.
I can however relate to attraction in general, because I feel like I am attracted to my best friend. I love doing things with him. I love talking to him in class. I love studying for exams with him. I feel emotionally complete with him. Is this a homosexual attraction, or am I merely overwhelmed with the feeling of having a strong mutual friendship, considering that I had none in high school? The fact that I fantasize about him putting me in the straight jacket (when self-pleasuring) leads me to believe that it is the former. It is this confusion that gives me stress.
What should I do? For the most part I am pretty happy, but this sexual confusion upsets me. All I can say is one thing: This shit is whack.
Disclaimer: take us with a grain of salt!
