Talk About Confusing, I Don't Know Who I Am Anymore

When I was nine I kissed my five year old cousins lips, as in her maiden lips. She had been taught, as we all were, to tell if someone touched our privates. I got in trouble, with a capital T. In addition to being punished, I saw a lady psychologist who asked me if I liked kissing her there, and I was put in feminizing classes. How to walk, sit, dress, talk like a 'lady'.

I experimented more than once in middle school, had right out sex with a girl in the eleventh grade. I was a wide open lesbian in college, lived the dream with other girls earning their lesbian creds. Then, flying solo in the outside world. Acceptance was fleeting, ok so your a lesbian, that doesn't mean we should be friends. Lesbians I met were into their own head trips, sex yes, love no.

I got my butt smacked, my tits groped, my vagina fucked at a party one night. It messed up my head, put me in therapy. Impossible to believe, he dominates my feelings, my thinking, my sexual being. You've seen little girls running after their big brother asking for attention? That's me, literally walking behind him, running to keep up with him, hanging around when I should be back in the kitchen with the women.

Overnight. Literally. I'm a silly, babbling, idiot. To my childhood therapist, yes I liked it. To my current therapist, I can't turn off my feelings. Whatever nerve he touched changed me. He gave me an apron for my birthday, and I sent a picture to my mother wearing it. Should I say I'm getting married?