There’s nothing that elated me more than that flicker of doubt on their face as a lifetime of enforced values crumbled suddenly in the wake of absolute pleasure, and nothing I hated more than the eventual, “Umm... isn’t that... gay?”, as the conflict in their heads was settled by cultural norms and not their own will. The frustrations of overly charged teenage sexuality are too many to count. But more on that later.
I'm planning to paint this on a t-shirt, much to the uneasiness of a mother who's trying to cope with her son's sexuality. Don't call me a bad child. I need to hone my t-shirt painting skills.
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