The Gay Child

The Gay Child

The general consensus is that being gay is all about sex. Nothing more, just pure nasty sex. Seen by many fundamentalists as an evil, demonic spirit that takes over an individual at puberty to screw up their lives and piss off their family and friends. Foremost they do it to anger the church. The devils beam with glee, build their fires hotter and dance in hell, every time they manage to turn a person gay. Angels lose their wings, Jesus weeps and, oh the humanity.

Little do people know, those demons plant that seed when the parents had pure nasty sex. Yep, that's when it all starts. The only reason gays don't outnumber the straights is that gay sperm take longer to get ready. Their not taking that journey until they are looking pretty. Beings only liberals have gay children also keeps the numbers down.    

That's me with my mom. I'm already possessed by demons and I'm sure, shortly after this photo was taken, tale tale signs began to reveal who or what I really was. A gay child. Anything sparkly went directly into my mouth, I couldn't keep my hands off my private parts and, If I remember right, I cried like a little girl. That should have been their first clue.

 

 More clues revealed themselves as I got older. Yes, I was raised pretty much on wheels and I'm not talking about roller skates. The homes in the background were where the affluent lived. We were on the poor side of the park. That really didn't matter to me. I didn't know the difference and considered we were pretty much like everyone else on the planet. I was young.

At this age, I was unaware of sex. I didn't know what it was, except it was nasty, and I really didn't care. All I knew was that I sure liked playing with the girls. Yes, I had lots of girlfriends. A virtual playboy. I enjoyed playing house the most. The girls really loved that because they didn't like playing daddy when there were no boys around to participate. This daddy served tea, helped the girls pick out their outfits and meticulously decorated the playhouse and tea table. Even helped them tease their hair so they could look more like mommy. 

   Now that doesn't mean that I couldn't be butch. I was raised with four brothers. There's me on the far right, my eldest brother Wayne in the middle and my older brother Jerry on the left. Dean was home in his crib and Robbie wasn't even thought of yet. We just went fishing. Yes, I baited hooks with wiggly living worms, caught a few fish, banged their heads against a rock to put them out of their misery, took this picture then went home and ate them. How butch is that? Oh, yes, that is my Uncle Ed in the rear. He took us fishing that day.

Well, now comes the nasty part. I stopped playing house and started playing doctor. You know, we've all had our little experiments playing doctor. Any little girls that wanted to play that pretend game with me were pretty much out of luck. Not interested. On the other hand, playing doctor with the boys....wow. My interests changed dramatically. No hair to tease, no tea to serve no decorating, just having some realness with other boys, who apparently enjoyed my company as much as the girls did but for a different reason. Too young for that operation to be successful, as a very young doctor, it was still a thrill.

 

That innocence above was lost when I got older. Those acts as a child, that were normal for most children, suddenly became exactly what the demons wanted.....hell. Not necessarily hell for those around me but hell within. Burning in that hell was my self esteem, my desire for a bright future and the lost acceptance of the society around me. 

Keep your eyes out for the gay child. Watch them grow and be there for them when they find out for themselves what and who they are. Love them and, for Gods sake, accept them for who they are.