Rated XX

Because I still havent left the Brisbane metro area, allow me to talk more about my private life. As my Aunt Debbie asks, "Why are you parading around naked in public with that blog of yours?"

Anyway, the last time I’d been with my college in a drinking situation was kinda ridiculous, in a way I may blog about in a future post. So I was understandably hesitant about doing it again. But you know how my college loves theme nights.

Bogan: The Australian version of Redneck. A mullet, a wifebeater, grotty pants, and a Ford truck. Makes an easy enough costume.

I arrive on time, only to find no one there. Wander around town for a good hour, go to the supermarket for a chocolate bar, and flirt with the cashier boy. Time well spent. By the time I return, friends have shown up. We play drinking games. Homophobic faction shows up, sees I’m fully integrated, and keeps their mouth shut. It’s all working quite well.

One boy at the bar strikes my attention. I know there’s probably rules against hitting on guys in a straight bar, but what the hell. I find out he’s learning ninjitsu, has a band, and would love to know the names of the girls I was with. Motherfucker.

Suddenly a girl comes and drags me away by the arm; I’ve never seen her before in my life. “We need an American,” she says. “My friend is studying drama, and she needs to know how to tell about a New York and a Boston accent. They sound so much the same.” Any Yankees or Red Sox fan will tell you that’s bullshit, so I gladly helped the friend on her American accents. Suddenly, another girl came up from behind me, and bit me gently in the cheek.

I whirl around; the most drunken skanky girl I’ve ever met stands before me. She straddles me, presses up against me, and nibbles my ear. I can only stand stunned, while my friends look on with keen interest. Even if this girl were attractive, which she wasn’t, the overwhelming drunkenness would prevent any genuine advance by even the biggest sketchballers. So I allow her to continue molesting me and slurring at me while I resume talking to my kidnapper and her friends, much like a whale ignores a barnacle.

Or in this case, like a barnacle ignores a whale.

The kidnapper explains: My college cohorts were debating my sexuality again, possibly after observing me attempt to flirt with ninja boy, and scary girl decided to find out for herself. Whether she was specifically sent by them or decided on her own was beyond our knowledge. The situation made me understandably uncomfortable, as it would anyone, but I’ll assume they’ll take my reaction as a sign of gayness.

Oh, if it were only that simple.

My kidnapper seems to have developed an inexplicable interest in me. I don’t understand it. She’s alittle thick, but not unattractive. I’m plainly way too skinny. From her conversations, she’s way more sexually experienced than me, so I don’t understand what she’s thinking. Yet, here she is, flirting and groping just as much as my previous assailant.

The last time this happened, I just told the girl I was gay. I didn’t want to deal with it. I never know what the fuck I’m doing with girls, and they’re always more complicated. Its funny; after my adolescent “sexual awakening”, I was primarily interested in girls. Guys were just kinda a “side fetish”. This lasted all through high school. However, high school was a time where I got little play. I just sucked with girls, simple as that. When college came around, I decided to stop simply thinking about and actually fool around with guys.

This proved far more effective, as men are sluts. Guys went from being a side fetish to my main interest, primarily because they were most accessible. Consequently, as I focused on guys more, I became attracted to them more and girls less. They took over as my primary interest. I decided when I went to Australia, I wouldn’t even bother wasting my time with girls. I’d join the GSA, I’d go to gay clubs, I’d essentially be fully gay. This is why all my experience in Australia and all my blogging has been about guys.

It’s quite widespread for gay guys to say they’re bisexual when coming out. I’ve never heard of a bi guy pretending to be gay. But here I was, ignoring girls because I feared them. Ignoring them until they became unimportant. I said I’d only get with a girl in Oz if one fell in my lap. And that’s just what happened.

The two of us, and two of her friends, decided to return to the university. If you’re not a total eco-hippie, you might not know what a slackline is. Think tightrope walking, but the rope is elastic and springy. She used me as a balance to walk it, though probably an excuse to touch me. Eventually we got busted by security, though not before having lots of fun at the poor guy’s expense.

Finally, the event I feared: The two other boys went home. It was just me and her. Delaying what I thought might be the inevitable, I invited her to get a kebab. She was short on money, so I paid for the two of us. Shit, I accidentally talked myself into a date. But surprisingly, I was enjoying myself. I even asked for her phone number before walking home, being well aware of the implications of such a request.

The whole time, my mind was flipping through excuses. She is a little thick. And such an experienced girl wouldn’t want innocent ol’ me. I’ll say something stupid to make her dislike me. Surely there must be dozens of excuses in my bag, things I’ve told myself to back out of things back at my home school. Fearing girls so you back out of chances so you don’t get experience so you fear girls. A fun cycle, but not one I can afford to keep spinning forever.

If you’ve noticed a trend about this blog, its that trends continue. I’ve been in potential sexing situations with no less than 5 girls in the last two weeks. Luckily something intervenes (friends want to go home, bar closes, well timed text message from an ex…).

And just as I’ve finished establishing myself as the res-college token fag…