When I was just a small boy I wore make up and fake pearls, and I would refuse to go to school if I wasn’t dressed up like a girl.
And then there was the time in which I ran up and down the road, dressed up like a runaway bride yelling “Go! Go! Go!”
And then there was that time where I really liked to play football but I played it wrong (?) so the boys all called me gay.
My hands are not for labour, nor is my love for it really present; I’d rather cook or make some craft, or work out what art doth represent.
In the past I’ve been told to “man up!”, but I’m not sure what that means, I don’t conform to typical understandings of masculinity.
I fancy girls, well really only one (as has been the case for years!), but simultaneously creepy crawlies are in my top ten biggest fears
I’m not sure what a man looks like, nor do I think one definition exists; but I’m quite happy with my journey, that turned that into this.