9. The time in fourth grade when I chose to write a report on Mikhail Baryshnikov
It should be noted our topics of choice were per our own discretion… as fourth graders… meaning while others were writing about Harriet Tubman and George Washington, I was writing about a Russian ballet dancer.
8. The time they found my two go-to J/O images on the family computer
Mind you, this was when the Internet was still a newfangled piece of technology that took 10 minutes to log on to, presuming no one picked up the phone, so I was lucky to even get the two. These were two of a handful of images of naked men I’d seen up until that point. One was of a cowboy (with a big cock) and the other was of a black guy (with a big cock). Sensing a theme? This confirms my belief that power bottoms are born, not made.
7. The time in third grade they were called to a parent-teacher conference because I’d started replacing periods and tittles on papers with hearts
What I thought was cute and fun had basically rendered my handwriting illegible.
6. The time my mother found a prepubescent “erotic” story I’d written
In my mind, I’m sure I thought I was on-par with Oscar Wilde and Marquis de Sade, when in reality I was probably more like an even shittier E. L. James.
5. The time I said the only thing I wanted for Christmas was an Emma Bunton Spice Girls doll
At this point, my Spice Girls obsession had been well-established, but really, who wasn’t into the Spice Girls back then (or now, because—hello—they’re timeless)? My straight, male friends and I would even sit around having philosophical conversations about which of the Spice Girls was the hottest. Baby was always my favorite. Covering my bedroom with posters until the walls were no longer visible was one thing, but a boy with a doll in the suburban South? Eventually, they gave in and bought me the one with pigtails and the satin-y purple dress, and thus secured my undying love (I could be easily bought, even then).
4. The time I pleaded with them for weeks to let me do gymnastics
In retrospect, this .GIF is representative of about how well it’d have probably gone, but at the time it was devastating… and I’m still kind of bitter because, had I stuck with it, can you imagine the body I could feasibly have right now? HMPH!
3. The time my mother walked into my bedroom as I was BREAKING IT DOWN to “(You Drive Me) Crazy” while watching Great Pretenders
That was pretty much my reaction when I realized she was watching. The scenario: there was a girl group on Great Pretenders (that show Fergie co-hosted as part of Wild Orchid) who were performing the song, complete with choreography, so obviously I had to dance along. Midway through, she walked in with my laundry, I stopped, and the only thing my embarrassed self could think to say was, “…I really like this dance.” I may or may not still remember the choreography (spoiler alert: I do).
2. The time this picture was taken
Contrary to popular belief, there was a time when I ate carbs and wore sweatpants in public.
And finally, the last bit of definitive proof that I was gay…
1. The time my mother walked in on me and my best friend giving each other handjobs at 12-years-old
Somehow this still doesn’t even rank in the top five most mortifying moments of my life, but when you’re caught giving a guy an HJ, it’s sort of hard to deny your homosexual tendencies to yourself or others.
Fortunately my parents have progressed infinitely since then. Nowadays it’s reasonable to expect that if they ever walked in on me, say, getting mounted, this response would not be unreasonable:
God love you.
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