Short story: I’m number 5 of 6 kids and was spoiled rotten since the day I left the womb.
Longer version: I was also pretty cunty for a long time when I was little, always demanding things from my little friends and trying to be the star of the show. This is probably why those friends didn’t really last that long and when I got to kindergarten I hung out with no one and no one liked me. This started a long chain of events that made me unable to socialize and care more about what was on Fox Kids than what everyone else was doing after school. (It was Flint the Time Detective, btw, and I always rushed home so I could watch it)
I did have some friends, though. We bonded over our mutual love of Sonic the Hedgehog. From maybe first grade to eighth the circle of friends didn’t change much, but it was never larger than five. There was me, Kyle (who I’m still friends with even though I always want to strangle him), Jacob, Paul, Matthew, other Paul, and Tom, although Tom didn’t last that long. There was also some ginger kid I hung out with in first grade but he left after one year and I forgot his name. We never had a name for ourselves, so I’ll retroactively name us the Dicksquad.
I had a lot of enemies in grade school. I wouldn’t say I was bullied in the traditional sense, mostly because I deserved a lot of it, with me being a little awkward turtle with a really bitchy attitude. Looking back I think I was just as big a dick to my “bullies” as I was to them, and what they did to me was basically nothing. I was called Pink Flamingo Boy in first grade (because I wanted to do a red ibis for a rainforest group project and everyone else wanted a black panther) which is probably the lamest insult you could ever give someone other than “doodoo head.”
I ended up going to a different high school than most other people in my grade school. There I sat alone for the first few days until a quirky blonde girl named Mary asked me to sit with her. I had a big crush on Mary (at least I thought I did; spoilers, I like dick) but she had a boyfriend so woe was Mark. Mary’s ragtag group of misfits included Peter, Jaime, me, Tyler (haaaaate Tyler), and Jessica, and then there was a spin-off group of underclassmen with Chloe, Josie, Rachel, Kaylee, and the Angel twins.
(Turns out me, Peter, Jessica, Rachel, and Jaime were all shades of queer, big surprise. Tyler’s now a staunch Republican with a wife and kid, but there is a zero percent chance he’s straight. That lisp didn’t lie.)
Anyway, high school was kinda boring because there were no clubs I liked or guys to give me a big sexual awakening (there was one out gay guy in my grade). I decided to do musicals at an all-girls school that my dad taught at, and during Junior year the girls hooked me up with a girl I hated but felt obligated to date. Senior year, I broke up with her during Chicago, she was in charge of the t-shirts, they all had HE HAD IT COMING in big red letters, I stopped doing plays there. I ended up dating Chloe for a bit, but once I left for college we stopped.
I’d like to point out that the only girl I had ever kissed on the lips was a mildly buzzed cheerleader during a European excursion for our French class.
So, eighteen years old, socially awkward and slightly cunty, I left for college. During Freshman year, nothing happened. I was alone for most of the year, because I didn’t really know how to socialize. The highlight of my week was always the anime club, and thank god for that because otherwise I probably would have stayed in my dorm the entire year. I didn’t really notice how alone I felt until Valentine’s day, which is also about the time I realized that I needed to be able to say “I’m gay” aloud. I became Vice President of the anime club, and I made a few wonderful friends in the officer pool (including Rachel and Sabrina, who follow me, heeeey!) and I finished Freshman year with at least a few experiences under my belt.
(it was around this point that I got my Tumblr so if you look really far back you might be able to see some of these events play out)
Sophomore year. Sophomore year, I whisper, a twinge of nostalgia in my voice. That was the year I finally started doing gay stuff. So much regret, so many lessons learned. I met several boys that year, and I lost my virginity to one of them (it was a’ight), but none of them felt right. I can still hear each of their voices in my head, though, playing back the nicest thing they said to me (Ranging from “You’re charming” and “I think this is what heaven feels like” to “I like you”).
Summer after sophomore year was complete shit. I was living with my family again after a year of homosexual debauchery and they didn’t know I was gay. (My mom asked why I didn’t tell her sooner, since my older brother’s also gay, but my excuse was that I never tell her anything). I also had an absolutly horrible experience while I was working for the summer at McDonald’s. I think the only thing keeping me sane that summer was waiting for Free! to finish and for two of the guys to kiss (GUESS WHAT I WAS DISAPPOINTED WHEN NO ONE DID). I spent a lot of time alone that summer, and when it came time to get back to college, I finally came out to my parents, but only after listening to Heather Small’s “Proud” on repeat.
So now I took you all from September 1992 to September 2013. I think that pretty much finishes up the whole “childhood” stuff, plus some more.
Hope you all loved the fucking novel I just wrote.