The Sexual Orientation Adventures of Mister Bracegirdle

Welcome! Do please take a seat. I prepared some tea for us to drink on this beautiful afternoon. I hope you like Earl Grey.

So, I heard you came here for a story! Well, my dear fellow, I have quite an interesting tale for you today, one of excitement, hilarity and, above all else, discovery. The story of how I came out and accepted myself as bisexual.

I dare say it all began when I was born. Or rather, a day and a half afterwards, when I met my parents. I was told it was a nice, sunny morning when both my parents arrived at the clinic, pens ready to sign all documents of my adoption. I, in the meantime, was held in one of the many incubators of the clinic, a necessity due to my premature birth.

It was because of my mother's inability to have children that I was taken under her custody. She, together with my father, waited for over eight years for a baby, and when I came into the scene, was welcomed with tears of joy by the whole family.

Given that I was their only child, and my mother's extremely overprotective nature, I was always very pampered and spoiled in my younger days, to the point where I cherished every moment alone and not being hugged or kissed.

This whole issue with my mother would become a problem later on.

As a young kid, around the age of four, I wondered why I wasn't allowed to have girls' toys. I did enjoy quite a lot my action figures and toy soldiers, but I always fantasized of having dolls and houses as well. Alas, my parents never bought me any.

Not that I complained much either. I still had my male toys to play with. Either way, videogames replaced them shortly afterwards.


In 1999-early 2000, my former babysitter moved out of town, and was replaced by another, much more mature and 'playful' young lady. I do remember she worked in an arcade as well, and would sneak prize tickets for me every now and then. I owe her a teddy bear, if my memory serves well.
But she was also quite open with a few things. We had the birds and bees talk when I was five, and although I didn't get the idea very well, it did make sense. She also taught me about homosexuality and transgendered people.

Thanks to her I became acceptive towards the LGBT groups very early in my life.

***

Halfway through the year 2000, my parents got robbed in our doorstep. At gunpoint, they had to hand in all the money they had on em, as well as valuables and other small things. A few days later, my mother gave my dad an ultimatum, forcing us to move out and buy a house in one of those walled country clubs.

I, however, knew little of this idea until a month before moving. I still resent my parents for that stupid idea.

After disembarking and planting our flag on this new land (surrounded by electrified barbed wire and concrete walls), I was enrolled in a 'secular' private school, where the only secular thing about it was the title.
Statues of the Virgin Mary and crucifixes were scattered all over campus, and we were obligated to participate in religious activities, attend mass and other such things.

Nobody in my family ever complained about this, however. The school board never took it too far with religion, nor took the 'fear the lord' approach. Instead, they 'made us catholic' by singing songs, talking of how much the lord loves us and reading the bible.

There was something else in that school too: It was fully centred on sports. Young men and boys were raised to be pro rugby players, and since 2nd grade we spend two afternoons a week tackling and beating each other in order to obtain a plastic ball. Later on in life I sort of began noticing more and more the school's senior team's members. The muscles, the strength, their faces hitting dirt and ludicrously long list of surgeries and broken bones.

The same applied to the girls and their hockey and soccer teams. I was quite fond of them too, and couldn't help but look at them while running laps or during their trainings.

What can I say? I like bouncing breasts :lol:

I was, however, not the sports addict my mates were. For that, I was considered alien and not part of the class, thus making me a target for bullying and getting beat up every now and then.

Funny thing is, I am glad I was bullied back then. I now see myself much more mentally stronger, and the fear of getting in fights to defend myself and others is gone.

***

The realization of my sexual orientation hit me like a truck halfway though 2011. I was talking to a fellow clan mate on steam chat when he sent me a 4chan link. I was certain it would be something disgusting, like most things on that blasted website, but what I saw was a .gif of two guys going at it like hares on heat.

I dismissed it at first, given that it was merely one of this chap's sad jokes, yet the thought of liking what I saw made me shiver a little.
Our conversation ended around an hour later, before we had to join the clan's training event.

That night I began questioning whether I was straight or not. I began recalling old memories from my days as a child, as a young teenager and the most recent events in the men's locker room. There are... other things I don't want to mention. Too embarrassing.

It took me around five more months to put two and two together. After lots of doubts, I began to accept I like both genders almost equally, with a small preference towards girls.

Around a month later I adopted an 'ok fuck it' approach and told my mother, in the most casual of conversations. As if it wasn't a big deal.

It did take her a few seconds to come up with a proper reply. Without any need for tears or getting too emotional, I gave her an encouraging hug. She hugged back and told me it was fine, that she would love me no matter what.

However, she told me to stay in the closet and swallow the key, specially with my father and grandparents.

I don't blame her for that. Coming out with my school mates would have been a bad idea, even with my closest of friends, and my dad would surely take the news badly, so why bother.

***

A little background on my dad and his parents.

Let's start off with my grandfather. Born in Spain in 1924 and worked in a factory until the 1940's. His older brothers fought in the Spanish civil war in Franco's side and were all of a very conservative and old fashioned family.

He moved to Argentina in 1945 (if I'm not mistaken) and began working in a soap factory until 1947, when he brought in his wife and kids (my dad and uncle) to the country. He then joined a merchant ship's crew and began sailing around the world.

According to my dad, he always hated the 'gay sailor' stereotypes, and by proxy, homosexuality in general.

When my grandpa came home after long months at sea, he would raise my father with an iron fist. Dad never went into detail about this, but something tells me grandpa wasn't a very kind father. In fact, my dad still fears him to a certain extent.

As for my grandmother, she was always a very conservative Spanish woman. The kind of lady that adored the stereotypical and chauvinistic role of a woman. It was her 'duty' as wife to keep the house clean and raise the kids, as well as giving a good reputation to her husband.

My dad, sadly, inherited some of these old fashioned traits. Not the chauvinistic part, thankfully, but the whole 1920's mentality of what's right and what's wrong, and what a man should do to be a man and not a wimp.

Of course, he tried to raise me as 'a man'.

He, however, failed at it, and blames my mother for it. All her pampering and spoiling made me 'soft' in his eyes, and he never forgave her for it.

One of the reasons for the divorce in 2005.

He also has rage problems, and tends to get mad and violent quite frequently. Whenever he gets angry he gets on ranting and 'politely insulting' me and my mother, blaming us for his problems.

I find it most hilarious.

***

So my mom told me to shut my trap and not tell my dad. However, I took this as an opportunity, rather than a warning. I was going to use the revelation as a weapon to piss dad off and laugh my arse off at his reaction later.

I waited for the opportunity for a few weeks. I wanted to get in an argument with him one day, let him win it, then use the revelation as payback a few days later.

The day came on March, 2012. I sat him down in the dining room, made us coffee and got on with the 'coming out' part.
Ha! I still laugh at his reaction. His face got all pale as he tried to suppress his rage and angry rant. It didn't take long for him to explode and blame mom for it.

I, in the meantime, tried not to laugh at him.

After his rant was over, we had a long talk about the subject of my bisexuality. You know, things like my thoughts, my proof, my ideas, etc. He then claimed I would never be happy with another guy, and that men are made to be with women, taking the gender role approach, rather than the religious one.

He pretty much said two guys cannot have a proper relationship because the mentality of a woman is needed to keep it together. I told him that was bollocks, but he's still convinced about that.

He also forbade me to have pride things on me, as well as owning 'girly' things. For instance, no dying my hair, no earrings, no ponytail (even though I need it for reenacting) and by no means wearing tight jeans.
Bleh. The jeans thing I do it anyway. And if I wasn't a reenactor, I would definitely dye my hair rainbows, just to piss him off.

I wonder what would happen if I introduce him a boyfriend... He'll surely disown me. Lol.

So that's that. I came out with a few online mates too, sometimes getting quite funny reactions from them. And if anyone asks me I don't feel the need to hide myself under a lie. I won't hesitate if people ask me, yet they rarely do. I think the whole 'Napoleonic Wars reenactor' renders me straight in the eyes of everyone. No matter how many times I hint it.

I guess the smell of gunpowder and that Brown Bess musket in my hands make me too 'manly' to be bi. Lel.

***

Now, I hope you enjoyed the story and liked my tea. Be off now, don't let my antics distract you more from your lovely life.

 

Thankee, though in the case of my dad I came out as a form of truth trolling. I never had the urge to come out to him. Instead, I did it to merely laugh at him.

And I find the Napoleonic age very interesting and exciting. The battles, the politics, the murder, rape and plunder of a whole continent in the hands of the French.
It is also quite amusing how I'm the only anti-French in my reenacting group. Everyone else bloody adores Boney and his blue coated band of savages.

Hilarious anecdote: Yesterday I took part in a battle. During a melee, I slowly crept behind one of my fellow rankers, and cheekily whispered in his ear "God save the King". His rage face was hilarious.

Well it's better to laugh at the face of danger and turmoil rather than crawling into a fetal position and crying to sleep. One has to be optimist, cheery and have fun in life, otherwise you'll turn grey, boring and resentful.

I remember I used to be scared of going to school. I feared getting beaten up again or people making fun of me. Either way, I was forced to tame my fears and use them to my advantage. Over time I became better with politics and diplomacy, talking my way out of fights and letting pen prevail over sword. I did come to blows many times, and I did get hurt, but I don't regret it.

One thing I learnt through the ages is that one must always forgive, but never forget. Always make amends with your past, but never try to deny or alter it, for it will come and bite you in the arse when you least expect it.

And I did hear of the Scarlet Pimpernel, but I never watched the play.