I spent years feeling “outside”, would cry at the thought
That I ought to be someone else, some other sort
Of man, who could fall for a woman, then be,
Everything England expected of me.
I searched hard, and in vain, for some other self,
For a costume that fitted, kept me off the shelf
And its gathering dust, and I may as well say
That the last thing I wanted was to admit I’m gay.
But that old life, it took every chance to remind me,
That inside and outside weren’t living in harmony
The scorn of one would flash-fry the other,
As I tried to fit in, be a son, friend and brother.
Until finally, one day, a guy kissed my lips,
And as he rested his hands on my trembling hips
That dam of resistance was just swept away
And I finally screamed from the rooftops
Naively, I thought “Yes! The End of my journey!
I’ve found the holy grail of a phrase to define me”
And yet here I am, 45, and old tears have dried
But nevertheless, I’m now mystified.
Am I a daddy? An otter? A bear?
Or maybe a fox due to silvery hair?
A top or a bottom, a ‘vers’, or a side?
What if none of the drop down menu applied?
I can’t be a twink, because others decided,
I can’t be a ‘muscle’, biceps are derided
By gym bunnies! Gyms? Somewhere I never go,
So what the hell option do I click on below?
Where’s the one that says “Me! And
It all depends whether,
I’m feeling like cuddling, or dressing in leather
Or maybe I want to be stroked with a feather
Where’s that option below? “
The one that says…
“Me, I would like to be just who I want to,
But apparently that doesn’t exist in the menu,
And I won’t show up in searches, unless I define
Myself as a category that isn’t quite mine”
So I turn off the screen, after scratching my head
And I go and do something less boring instead
I might be missing the chance of the nicest of cocks
But I can’t help myself, I’m just
Outside the box.