This Southern Faggot's Blog


Elementary school handjobs
September 29, 2013, 6:42 pm
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I’ve talked about this before on here, but I’ve been a nelly faggot my entire life. Everyone around me has always known. Looking at pictures of me as a kid, hands on my hips, sassy face, limp wristed, I just can’t help but to laugh. My parents weren’t ready for the kid the raised, but somehow it happened anyway. 

I should also say that I wouldn’t change that for the world. Being a nelly faggot is who I am today and has always been a big part of my life, I wouldn’t change a day.

But, in being a big ole nelly fairy faggot queen, people make a lot of assumptions about me. Some of them are true, some maybe not. But the one that interests me the most, is that people assume I’ve had a lot (whole, whole) of sex in my life and I started having sex at a very young age. This isn’t true, but I certainly wish it was! I didn’t have any sexual encounter with anyone until I was 20 (this includes making out), which I almost feel ashamed to admit, which is so odd. I feel like when I tell people that, I somehow am less of a nelly faggot in their eyes. I mean, what kind of gay kid wasn’t sucking the dick of every kid in the boy scout troop, or giving blowies in the elementary/middle school bathrooms? I often spend time wondering how being a non-sexual being until I was 20 shaped who I was in high school, or what I became now. 

Growing up, having a big friend base was always difficult, because associating with me automatically turned you into “the kid who was friends with the faggot”. I don’t wish this, but I do wonder what it would have been like to have been “one of the guys”. What would it have been like to have sleep overs and touch my friends dick, or give him a hand/blow job or even just cuddle? If I hadn’t been the one visible gay kid growing up, would I have been able to have sex earlier? If I had been having sex earlier, would I be a different person today? If so, how would I be different? I wouldn’t consider myself sexually repressed at all… but I don’t ever picture myself ever ‘settling down’ with one (or a couple group) person (or people), or even being able to say ‘I love you’ to a partner(s) and maybe that would be different if I had been intimate with people earlier in life.

I spent most of my life waiting for everyone around me to come to terms with who they were, so that they could be seen associating with me… how did that impact my life? On the surface, I know it made me very lonely… how what else would be different about me today? 



Botox brain
September 1, 2013, 5:03 pm
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I’ve had this thing for 4 years now and I’ve all but abandoned it. Not actively abandoned it, but I just sort of drifted away. I think about TSF a lot (nearly every day, actually) and what it has been for me over these past years. It’s been incredibly helpful to have something to dump thoughts and emotions into, when I don’t have someone around to serve that purpose. I feel like it’s helped me work through a lot of things. I feel like I appreciate it more than I maybe appreciate many other things in my life. How was I able to abandon it so easily? What does that say about me? 

I went out to dinner with my dad and mother the other night and it was, as you already know, terrible. After two glasses of wine, she stumbled into the day spa next to the Thai place we were eating and demanded botox. My dad and I had to pull her out of the day spa and the entire drive home she cried and just kept repeating “I want to get botox”. Eventually she started sobbing more and yelled that she wanted botox because she felt ugly and this very moment, I felt sadder for her than I have felt for her, over these past 10 years of understanding that she is an alcoholic. My first reaction was to hate her. To hate her for making me feel any emotion towards her, other than disgust. But, that quickly went away and I didn’t hate her, but felt so, so incredibly sad for her I just wanted to hug her and tell her everything would be okay. 

Of course, the days of things possibly having a chance of becoming “okay” are long gone. My mother is so gone that I truly believe the only comfort she will ever feel again, is death. She isn’t able or willing to acknowledge her addition and she is married to a man who doesn’t know what to do, other than ignore everything. I hate that it has become this, but I can only see my mother as a burden on my father and I can’t help but to be excited for him, when I imagine a time without her. I don’t know how he feels about this, but I would have trouble imagine him being sad over her death. The quirky, fun loving, spontaneous, stoner California surfer girl he married died years ago. I have to wonder if my birth is what killed her, or if maybe it was a slow death that started with my birth. It possibly had nothing to do with me being born. Either way, I don’t really care. 

And that’s the end of another up-beat TSF post. It would be easy to say I want to write here more (again), but apparently it’s hard to me. I’ll try, I promise. That’s the best I can do.