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Wisps Posts Tagged as 'Myself'

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Mother arrested 'after flying her 12-year-old daughter to GA to have sex with a man

Mother sex-trafficked 5-year-old daughter to man who murdered her

I had a favorite cousin who birthed two adorable boys. The eldest (4) liked to rummage through her clothes and dress-up. He had a quick brain and he made us laugh. OMG! He might be gay, like me. I was my cousin's favorite thing. I felt no such thing. I felt sorry for him, like my mother does for me.

Father was elated, mother was ecstatic but the boy with the dress kept complaining his ass hurt. The parents exclaimed that it was a quirk but I couldn't help but think the worst. I brought up my sexual abuse concerns to her but she stamped them ludicrous. I respected their privacy. I couldn't prove something I did not see. I never brought it up again.

FFW two years later. I'm hanging out with my cousin-in-law, getting plastered, trolling strip bars and listening to music in his car. Between trolls we would call the wife and make excuses, sit in his car, and listen to "Jeremy" by Pearl Jam, sometimes, on repetition. We were fucked up. Before our final round and the last "Jeremy," he asked me to listen intently to the song because he had something to confess.

The reason his son was confused about his gender was because daddy dresses his son like a girl and fucks him. My head started to spin. Why did he presume I would understand? We went to our last strip club and I found an excuse to depart. Cis men will tell gays perverted crap because they think we are all perverted. What?!

I went home and told. I got death threats. My mother got involved. It ended my relationship with my cousin, she got divorced and the kid grew into a cis toxic military male bastard that hates us all. I don't blame him. 29-Dec-2021

Tags: $, Abuse, Children, Confusion, Family, Father, Gay, Myself, Parenting, Sex, Treatment, Violence, Youth

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01-Jan-2022


 

The only rejection that hurts me is ours. There is a reasonable excuse for everybody else. 23-Dec-2021

Tags: $, Community, Fake, Gay, Greed, Myself

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23-Dec-2021


 

My ex-father-in-law thought it was funny to tell our gayby that if he ever met an American Indian they would scalp him before killing him. He showed him westerns to back it up. We surprised the kid with a trip to a heritage museum that included an American Indian Traditional dance. It did not go well. The kid thought we brought him there to be assassinated. We didn't know. 23-Dec-2021

Tags: Gay, Myself, Parenting, Racism

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23-Dec-2021


 

There is no representation on earth that would make my life better. 16-Oct-2021

Tags: Aging, Gay, Ignorance, Maturity, Myself, Reality, Representation

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16-Oct-2021


 

I was so cute that I didn't realize how stupid I was until I wasn't. No one ever heard a word I said, especially my mother. How was I supposed to know if I was stupid? No wonder, my sister called me Charlie Brown. She thinks she's Lucy. Ugh! 28-Jul-2021

Tags: Myself, Realization

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28-Jul-2021


 

When I was attached as a gay couple, I invited my mother and stepdad to our state, for a visit. One night, I decided to play "what if" with them. I was astounded that my mother understood the concept since she doesn't speak english but she quickly chimed in. I asked her what would be the first thing she would do if she were a man. She proudly responded, "be President." Wow. Awesome. I asked my stepdad what would be the first thing he'd do as a woman and he said, "have a gangbang." My lover and I were, "oooh, bummer." After I explained what a gangbang was to mother, the game and the night ended. He embarrassed her in front of my giant. They went to their room where she must have whipped him real good because he came downstairs to apologize profusely and wish us a really good night. We understood my mother felt disrespected but my giant and I agreed we would explore our sexuality first too. Of course, not a gangbang but something leading to one. Joke. Step-daddy apologized all next day, throughout the remainder of the visit and all the way through the airport. 25-Jun-2021

Tags: Myself, Parenting

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25-Jun-2021


 

I lived a lifetime without representation in entertainment or books. I was an enslaved child shielded from outside influences. It was always family. Friends weren't allowed. I explored a friendship when I was six. He used to come every night and we'd watch and enact scenes from The Avengers. I was finally playing with someone else, liking the same things and having fun. My sister was allowed more freedom and friends and I don't understand why. You know, Amazon shit. Anyway, by the third day my mother had had enough. "Is this going to happen every day? Oops. I didn't know. "He always stays til dinnertime and sits to eat when I've only cooked for four. I had to give him my portion. I'm not taking care of another woman's kid! I was to get rid of him immediately. It made sense. I couldn't afford a friend. Next day I spoke to him at school and told him that he couldn't come over anymore, my mother hated him and that he was a big fat pig for eating all our food. I never saw him again and my mother was very proud. I tried once again, in my tweens, for a semester with two black gay friends but it was in secret and it never panned out. In entertainment I caught glimpses of myself and that was enough. It didn't matter who represented humanity as long as they interpreted it well. God only cares about our soul. That's why he made most of us ugly. I saw enough bits to try and solve my puzzle and be who I wanted to be. A gay romantic idiot. More representation is not going to get people to like us. Being kind might. White people have been representing throughout history and it doesn't stop them from hating each other. What's going to change? Representation only matters if its organic like the vegetable. 21-Jun-2021

Tags: Myself, Representation

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21-Jun-2021


 

I'm only half of a stereotype. I love fried chicken but I only eat watermelon in candy form. My parents embarrassed me every summer by serving slices of watery sugar to our community. I tasted sticky watery sugar in every bite. I hated that shit. 16-Jun-2021

Tags: Cultural, Myself, Stereotype

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16-Jun-2021


 

I met my biggest celebrity crush (the guy that makes your ass twitch in excitement) in my teens on Park Avenue. He was stepping out of a limo, walking his dog, rocking those adorable little Jaws shorts with sandals when he suddenly smiled at me. Nobody wants to be a fan like Lucy but you can't be rude, so I smiled back and respected his distance. Yet, I couldn't allow my shyness to waste the opportunity for a million future masturbation fantasies. We acknowledged each other as a god and a fan, he extended his hand, I extended mine then a bird shat on me and I ran away. I remember that beautiful smile, gorgeous tan, manly everything and those cute little shorts and I kick myself. My apologies Mr. Scheider. It won't ever happen again. 15-Jun-2021

Tags: Gay, History, Myself

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15-Jun-2021


 

Why did Bobby Brady from The Brady Bunch see rockets and firecrackers when he fell in love? I was a cute idiot twink picked up by an interesting man who looked exactly like William Hurt with a curly wig and a height difference. It wasn't him but the dude was still pretending to be someone. I wanted to fuck and get it over with. I didn't want to give him reasons to kill me. I kept all answers "interview" level. Everything about daddy was nice. Nothing spectacular but very pleasant. This will be a quick release. He starts banging and all is quite pleasing. It was a rainy afternoon fuck between two strangers. Nice. The climax was a buildup. Things were happening. I was giving him things that didn't belong to him. I start convulsing and begin to see stars, firecrackers and colored lightning. Who is this fake William Hurt motherfucker? It was a feeling I expected from someone more intimate. Is he from space? I wanted to snatch that wig and unmask him but I was embarrassed for feeling like the only vagina in New York cumming at that moment. It was fucking fantastic! If I hadn't already been happily married, I would have let him stalk me. 09-May-2021

Tags: Dating, Gay, Gay101, History, Myself, Relationships

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09-May-2021


 

The idea of sharing neighborly grief and sentimentality with food is a common tradition that our family never followed. Dished food was constantly being brought to our home with gestures of warmth and or greetings yet remained untasted. At funeral gatherings my mother would throw out the stranger's food and keep only the family's. When the strangers inquired about their food my mother showed them the empty dishes. "It was so good the people gobbled it up." There was always an excuse. She didn't like what they said, they appeared unclean, smelled, had cats, were old, of another race or white. Mrs. Brady would have no chance at delivering "other food" to our mouths.

Our mother turned eating out into shopping for a restaurant. She wanted to make sure it was clean and comfortable and that more than two people were eating there. She didn't want to appear uncool.

Before she died, my stepfather's mother made some of his favorite dishes. We drove to pick them up. They were neatly packed in containers and my stepfather was excited to bring the food home and share it with us but mother smelled something foul in the car on our way home. I smelled nothing. Is it coming from those containers?! Throw them out! Those containers are not coming inside my house! They're poison. Throw them out or you're not getting back in the car! My stepdad deflated as he dumped the last taste of home and I felt so bad for him. It's his mother's food and he's the only one obligated to eat it and if he wants to relive a fond memory, he should goddam be able to. Mother! Go into another room while he gobbles it down. I'll clean it up. I told her that and she yells at me "yeah, but you don't know these people." (Spells and shit.)

I've never held to her philosophy and as an adult enjoyed much food by hospitable strangers and neighbors and obviously never died. My mother was afraid someone else would usurp her talent. 01-May-2021

Tags: Family, Food, Mental Health, Mother, Myself, Women In Charge

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01-May-2021


 

I was under 25 living a fantasy gay lifestyle with my perfect partner in Brooklyn. I lived 20 blocks from my mother and my newly appointed stepfather. It was like living in a colorized version of "I Love Lucy." Yes, I was as corny as all of you once.

One evening.

Mother calls hysterical. We had to come over. We were just there. What happened?

Rewind: my stepfather wanted to be more seductive for my mother so he called us for advice. My Russian advised him to get her flowers, lay them out, get a thong and strip for her. I agreed it might be fun for her. It was all the craze and my stepdad had the body.

FF: a family dinner was the event where he decided to put sexy daddy in motion. I was flabbergasted but I didn't want to embarrass him and or hear the wrath of mom. I watched as he stripped to a thong and ran her out into the kitchen. He automatically proceeded to dance and strip for my lover and I. Dude, my lover was getting into it. I slithered into the kitchen before my stepdaddy lap dance, checked on mom and she was furious. "That fuckin' maricon." Men don't do that shit. I'm humiliated. I apologized and told her it was my fault and that I thought it would be cute. I didn't know he was going to take it so seriously. She softened, laughed and whispered that "he used to be a bouncer at gay clubs. That's where he learnt the moves. (I didn't know bouncers had to bounce.) He says he never did anyone there but after today I'm not so sure." My mother accepted it as a joke, stepfather got dressed, we ate hardy, laughed ridiculously and went home.

The call.

Mother: Something's wrong with your stepfather, he's beating himself up,"como un loco." I think it's an army thing.

I was what? I returned to mother's and he was indeed beating himself to a pulp. He was punching himself and body slamming his head against the walls. We restrained my bloody step and stored him in a room away from my mother.

Step: your mother... (he couldn't speak)

Me: why were you punching yourself dad?

Step: (crying) because she pushed all my buttons and I wanted to hit her. I made a promise to myself that I would never hit another woman, ever, so instead of punching her, I punched myself.

Later.

Mother: pendejo. He really is an idiot isn't he? (She laughs. Ok. I laughed too.) I would rather he hit me and prove that he's a man instead of acting like this. (More laughter.) Your father knew how to corral a woman. I liked that. That's the kind of man I want. Not this. You have some of that too. (Ha!)

I asked he if she got off on it and she said yes. Out of the blue...she admits Osama Bin Laden gave her wet dreams. "There is something about that man. Don't you think?" (I was speechless. Why is she telling me this shit?)

I've taken her to countless hospitals with boyfriend injuries and interceded physically to save her life and she gets off on it? The hurt, the police, the pity, the crying, the worry, the danger, the attention, the fraud, the violence all for a tickle? 05-Mar-2021

Tags: Family, Marriage, Mental Health, Mother, Myself, Puerto Rican, Violence, Women In Charge

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05-Mar-2021


 

Mother's stratagem to keep a working daddy closer is to never let him know he was doing a banging good job. "Make them sweat, make them wonder but if you want to keep 'em don't ever tell them how great they are." I got it. The more a man thinks he's great the more chances of fulfilling the crippling desire to open other people's presents. Irk that one good spot left in his brain and he'll keep coming back around to try to figure it out. I can see a woman's idea of entrapment there. It suddenly occurred to me to accidentally apply it to a guy I was dating. He was daddy perfection and ejaculatory squish. After an aerobic session he asked me to concur that is was one of our best. Even though it was, I told him I had better. He topped himself every single time and I always answered the same. Why did I do that? I sadly dumped him because he was a camper. He kept threatening that we couldn't extend our relationship unless I went camping with him. Black daddies and city Puerto Ricans don't do woods. It doesn't make sense. He was one of the greatest but I don't camp.

My step-father must wonder with every dying breath, "why did l try so hard? She was never satisfied." 21-Dec-2020

Tags: Gay, Life, Marriage, Mental Health, Mother, Myself, Parenting 101, Sex, Women In Charge

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21-Dec-2020


 

An effect of sexual abuse is that you inherit a victim's persona even if you've surpassed it and predator abusive comprehension. The survivors are damaged goods pretending to blend into a world that's flashed forward around you. Our vulnerabilities succumb to the first clever wolf that help incorporate us into the new world so that we fit in and hate it. To cope, we become the victims they are. They are our daddy saviors. We think that the next one will fix what the other one did because this one is different. At least half of my LTRs were straight men with penchant for wee ones. They were not in denial about their sexuality they were just hiding. I happened to hit the jackpot.

My mother finished ex violence with more violence. The end to my abuse was to sucker punch the croc in the middle of Manhattan for stalking me at work and everywhere else. He fell down as a grandmother yelled "yeah, punch that old motherfucker!" She didn't even know our business. Everyone surrounded me to make sure I was all right and he ran off bloodied and embarrassed. My mother and I never saw our stalkers again, my mother's broken bones and heart healed, her ex's bones got WWF broken and I moved back to my mother's house. I re-encountered my mother's ex, riding on an unlighted subway car after work. I wasn't sure until we descended from the tunnels and out into outdoor light. It was him, he had healed and was seething. His eyes bore through me and I felt a chill and a scent. Every flicker of light cast a Hitchcock shadow as I froze for fuck's sake. I had beat him once but it was a tough battle. Illegal drugs made him Hulkean. Even lesbian cop kickassers couldn't bring him down. He stared eerily at me through the longest ride of my life. (I will not bore you with rest.) 27-Oct-2020

Tags: Conclusion, Gay, History, LGBTQ, Life, Mother, Myself, Relationships, Representation, Sex

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27-Oct-2020


 

I came out to my mother when I was 17 years old and no longer residing in her household. I didn't expect a good reaction so I called her on a public phone and announced it to her. She cried, became quiet and told me she suspected it but that she loved me, no matter what. I didn't have to lie to mother anymore. It was freeing. I visited her a few days later. She had time to absorb and ponder having a gay son. She cried again, I asked why and she said because being gay meant I was destined for a miserable life. That's impossible, it was such an overwhelming feeling to be me. I had to prove her wrong. She asserted conditions for my new identity: no meeting of "my men," I must continue to have a masculine presence, especially around family and don't get sick. I ignored her, introduced her to every one, told as much of the family as I could bear and kept my masculinity in check.

My mother recently confided to me that she used to receive dick pics from my croc daddy in the US mail while I was living with him. I thought, he might have done it as revenge for my unwillingness to absorb giant dick pain and or tricking him into being a gay bottom. When I took him to Gay Pride he cried because he thought I mistook him for one of those. He was straight. His shit was no joke but he was. A child molester was my educator and entrance into the gay world. I also figured my mother and I were even. Her boyfriend tried to brutally rape me. Mother's boyfriend was two years older than me, my croc daddy was 55. Our boyfriends shared the same culture, understood the nuances that make people vulnerable, and always seemed to be creepily plotting something sexual for us. Neither man represented our community. They were perverts sidling up to mommies so they could play with their children. (Now I know why she tried to cut him out of my photo albums.) I understand her comments and I realized her concern. My gay education came from perverts. The community hates itself more than the media loves it. Clicks work for a minute, the families we create are fake and we all die alone. We need less "Boys In The Band" depression and more gay reality awareness so we can come up with better coping mechanisms. Not smile at weirdos taking advantage of us because of politically correct etiquette.

I apologized to my mother. My croc stalked me, stole from us, used me, beat me up, tied me up and raped me. Afterwards, he thought of not releasing me because he was afraid I would kill him. You bet your life! But I had no choice, I begged for my life, stroked the psycho's ego and he loosened one arm while he Soniced out of the apt. I was stalked by my ex, my mother was stalked by her ex and I was stalked by both exes. I spent a lifetime trying to prove mother's sentiment wrong but in the end, she was right.

(Pic of my daddy croak included. Mother destroyed my croak dic picks but y'all can ask mother if she kept her copy.) 26-Oct-2020

Tags: Abuse, Awareness, Environment, Family, Fear, Gay, Heritage, Latin, LGBTQ, Machismo, Men, Mental Health, Mother, Myself, Psychology, Sex, Treatment, Violence

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26-Oct-2020




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