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InsatiableSub

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  1. InsatiableSub

    Fumbling Confusion

    By InsatiableSub,


    My Blog
    During high school I tried, with limited success, to date girls. I was in denial, my sexuality locked in a closet so small and dark that I thought I was "safe". Dating girls was expected of me, of course, given my upbringing and social environment. Even in the early 80's, being gay in school was a real problem, being different in any way was a challenge. I suppose that's the same, today, but overall there is a much more permissible environment for expressing one's sexuality. My children probably won't be bothered one bit if they learn I am gay. Process that for a moment.....
    So, I dated, and eventually I lost my virginity at 17 to a girl I thought I loved. I graduated not much later and, lacking other viable options, enlisted in the Army.
    The Army was good for me, lots of discipline, hardship, I matured. I was still an insufferable little bitch when I let my guard down but I learned in the Army to further suppress my true nature. I almost convinced myself that I was "normal", except for the fact I wasn't getting laid. A thing happened that almost caused me to let my guard down, though. I was assigned as the driver for a brigade commander, an O-6, full bird Colonel. It's a pretty choice assignment for an E-3, got me my promotion to E-4 and an Army Commendation Medal. My roomie did something else, I can't remember now, but our schedules meant that we rarely saw each other. I don't know why but one day he left his wardrobe open so I decided to peek inside it. It was a mess but I noticed some magazines stashed on the upper shelf. Thinking they were Penthouse or something, I grabbed one to look at.
    They were all gay "art" magazines, just naked men posing, some erect, no sex, nothing overtly sexual beyond erections. I stroked to those magazines for almost a week, they revealed a whole new world I didn't know existed. I knew it was "wrong" and I'd get in trouble if anyone found out I was aroused by that sort of thing but I was, incredibly so, and I couldn't keep myself from jerking to them every single day. Well, like I said, I our schedules were really different and I didn't see him at all for that entire week. I was resolved to tell him what I'd found, what I'd been doing, thinking that maybe he'd....I don't know. I wanted to be a part of what I was seeing in the the magazines and I guess I thought he'd help me figure it out.
    Turns out, he went AWOL, missing for three days. Our platoon sergeant, a good guy I was on good terms with, did some sleuthing and found him at some house in a Tacoma suburb. Sarge told me there was a "gay fucking orgy going on, just naked dudes all over fucking". My roomie was one of them. Remember "don't ask, don't tell"? He was court martialed and dishonorably discharged. His possessions were cleared out before I had a chance to snag the magazines. I was so scared about what happened to him, I probably wouldn't have. I went back into my closet and stuffed my new-found feelings and emotions deeper down than ever before.
    My second, and last, duty assignment was in Germany. It's only mentionable because we lived in WWII-era barracks with one large shower room for everyone, maybe 9 nozzles total? There was a separate waiting area, where consensus had everyone keeping towels around their waists but once you were in the shower, it was swinging dicks, everywhere. It's probably a good thing I am near-sighted because all those naked men were just blurs to me. I knew nothing of the vibrant gay scene in many German cities and only learned about gay movie theaters shortly before my term of enlistment was up. I was honorably discharged in 1987 after a very long streak of missed opportunities and continued confusion and shame.
    After a couple of years of going to college while living with my parents, I accepted a job offer where I had been working as a temp, moved into my own apartment, and continued my life of celibacy (is it celibate if you jerk off every day?). It wasn't until three or four years later, at about age 25, I stretched my legs, so to speak.
  2. InsatiableSub

    A Beginning

    By InsatiableSub,


    My Blog
    I'm convinced that our lives are irrevocably shaped by our childhood experiences. No amount of willpower, education, or socialization will ever do more than slightly alter the course of our lives, a course set while we were quite young.
    I was born in 1965; at age four, my father enlisted in the Air Force to support his young family. My sister's birth probably had a lot to do with it. Delivering furniture wasn't much of a future for a young father but the military promised, at least, stability and surety for the future. It's funny, in the way that isn't, that during a time of societal upheaval, the Summer of Love, the Vietnam war and its protests, Woodstock, the Stonewall riots, the Civil Rights movement, the environmental movement, feminism....during all of this and into the 1980's, I grew up within a rigid and socially conservative environment known as the United States military. Specifically, I was an Air Force "brat", the child of a member of the Air Force.
    How can I describe it? It was safe, safe enough, at least, growing up in military housing complexes, living on military bases. Never once do I ever recall fearing for my physical safety, overall. School existed. I never wanted for food or clothing. My parents loved me or, at least, never ignored or harmed me. What difference did I know? Yet, for all the safety, there was an undefined requirement to fit in, to conform. Rush nailed it with their song "Subdivisions". And I didn't exactly fit in, I didn't precisely conform. I wasn't cool, and I was cast out.
    For starters, I was slender. Not small, not skinny, just slender. Blonde hair. Eyeglasses. I was a bookworm, and smart, sent to gifted programs, preferring to build model ships and airplanes over playing ball. I did not conform, I did not fit in (although I did have friends, I wasn't a loner). But I was different and called names because of it.
    The only name that mattered then was "faggot". It was a deadly insult. I wear it with pride, now, it's what I am. Then? Well, the only thing worse than losing a fight over being called "faggot" was not fighting at all, because not fighting at all meant that you accepted the moniker, it was a label that would stick with you and follow you from one of your father's duty stations to another because the world of military brats is pretty fucking small, all told. So, I fought. A lot. Generally, I lost or it was a draw. I won often enough that the insults and threats of fights became little more than posturing, until the next duty station.
    And here's the thing. I knew I was a faggot. No, I didn't understand the full implications of that word. I knew I was excited around other boys, though, and from about 11 to 13 I had five different encounters with other boys my age, basically touching, two gay boys who didn't quite know what it meant to be gay, playing some version of "doctor" they knew was both forbidden and so very, very exciting. Oh, but that oh-so-conservative military environment. Always in the background of everything I thought, said, and did was the knowledge that if I fucked up, my dad would get in trouble. I don't know how it is, now, but back in the mid-70's into the 80's if a service member's family member, spouse or whatever, got into serious trouble, the service member could be disciplined for it. Remember, this was back when the old policy of "Don't ask, don't tell" was simply "Don't".
    So I didn't. Only very furtively, very infrequently, and with an abiding and foreboding sense of guilt and shame and anxiety. That's the background, the childhood experiences and upbringing that has shaped my life. I was keeping a daily journal while seeing a therapist. She recommended that I write about my life, as catharsis, as outreach....I'm mainly doing it to help create a permanent, positive narrative for myself. Having it written down makes all the progress I've made over the years seem more....real. If it seems strange that I've finally settled on this particular site, this blog, to do it, it's not, I'm comfortable with myself, now, I'm a faggot and this site suits me and so I've chosen it to reveal all.

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