![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
I'm sure you all absolutely burn with curiosity as to the precise details of my sexual orientation, so here they are:
I'm gay.
This requires some explanation.
I am a sophont of wild contradictions and incongruities, erratic behavior and just plain contrariness. These traits, when they occur in other people, are major attraction-triggers for me (with the occasional exception of just plain contrariness); aesthetically-pleasing-triggers are a bonus but not necessary and tend to show up on their own anyway when I like the trigger-possessing individual enough. One of my major incongruities is my habit of being no particular gender at any given moment — this is fairly damn eccentric even outside of the context of my sexual orientation — and it is almost certainly no coincidence that I find gender treason particularly attractive; even gender-normal persons to whom I am attracted invariably fail to live into the stereotypes of their gender, usually to the tune of coming off kind of, you know, queer.
This leads me to speculate that I have some kind of weird recursing thing happening where I fetishize business attire because it's so prosaic and proper that it's clearly an inappropriate thing to fetishize.
I'm also, per![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
lilairen's axis-system, monogamous, middling kinky, modality zero, menage rating about 1.25, not inordinately selective, tropism damn near zero, reactive, possessed of a wildly and unpredictably variable libido level, and insufficiently extracted of doughnut hole.
852 words, on an unrelated note; and on an even more unrelated note, the first hour of Moulin Rouge may clear up some of the stuff that happens later in the movie — mainly it explics that otherwise inexplicable costume of John Leguizamo's — but I'm still not sure I can honestly recommend it. Even for the line about Tantric can-can. For one thing, if you only watch the last hour and fifteen minutes, there's much less of that little fuck the Duke to put up with. I know he's supposed to be a sniveling waste of perfectly good carbon compounds, but he provokes such an intense and visceral reaction from me I find myself baring my teeth whenever he's on screen.
I'm gay.
This requires some explanation.
I am a sophont of wild contradictions and incongruities, erratic behavior and just plain contrariness. These traits, when they occur in other people, are major attraction-triggers for me (with the occasional exception of just plain contrariness); aesthetically-pleasing-triggers are a bonus but not necessary and tend to show up on their own anyway when I like the trigger-possessing individual enough. One of my major incongruities is my habit of being no particular gender at any given moment — this is fairly damn eccentric even outside of the context of my sexual orientation — and it is almost certainly no coincidence that I find gender treason particularly attractive; even gender-normal persons to whom I am attracted invariably fail to live into the stereotypes of their gender, usually to the tune of coming off kind of, you know, queer.
This leads me to speculate that I have some kind of weird recursing thing happening where I fetishize business attire because it's so prosaic and proper that it's clearly an inappropriate thing to fetishize.
I'm also, per
lilairen's axis-system, monogamous, middling kinky, modality zero, menage rating about 1.25, not inordinately selective, tropism damn near zero, reactive, possessed of a wildly and unpredictably variable libido level, and insufficiently extracted of doughnut hole.852 words, on an unrelated note; and on an even more unrelated note, the first hour of Moulin Rouge may clear up some of the stuff that happens later in the movie — mainly it explics that otherwise inexplicable costume of John Leguizamo's — but I'm still not sure I can honestly recommend it. Even for the line about Tantric can-can. For one thing, if you only watch the last hour and fifteen minutes, there's much less of that little fuck the Duke to put up with. I know he's supposed to be a sniveling waste of perfectly good carbon compounds, but he provokes such an intense and visceral reaction from me I find myself baring my teeth whenever he's on screen.
