So, I picked this up at the grocery the other day, and for some reason this morning my mind decided it needed to evaluate the significance of said purchase. Given today’s seemingly endless focus on “identification” (by the way, I did not need to show ID to buy this at the grocery….editorial comment…wait, this entire website is an editorial comment more or less… scratch all…), I began my descent down the rabbit hole. Does said purchase signify that i should re-evaluate my “testosterone-laced, scrotum-packing, Mars-origin, snakes-and-snails-and-puppy dog tails” identity….
Does such dalliance into Pumpkin Spice point to some greater contact with my feminine side? Are my testosterone levels dropping at a precipitous rate? Is an immediate and in-depth Google Search required to process the possibilities of bisexual, homosexual, metrosexual, quasi sexual, gender neutral, transgender, non-gender specific? Whose definition do I use – some psychological clinical pronouncement or Joe Carrington’s from the suburbs of Topeka? Something cannot be defined unless the definition is …. well, definite.
The only thing for certain is that, even at 54 years of age, every morning my body reminds me that I am definitely NOT asexual….
In the end, I decided that it really doesn’t matter. My day will proceed from this one to the next without the need of any resolution of the quandary. An epiphany that the need to encapsulate my identity into some ill-defined category only serves the purposes of those in society who have no better thoughts to ponder over morning coffee. A person’s identity is there own – they wake up with it everyday and say good night to it every evening. Each can live with “myself” as “myself” without any further confining definition.
Added Scotch (Royal Brackla, 12-Year) to the coffee and went on with my life……
