“I think people are as individual as snowflakes, they can look alike but no two are exactly the same. And all classification is the root of prejudice.”
– Craig Ferguson

It has happened before that friends, as well as strangers, have asked me about my sexual orientation, basically asking me to put a label on myself. And to be truly honest with you, I have always found it very difficult to answer their question. Never really knowing what to say, I felt quite different, even excluded, because nothing seemed to apply to me.

I went through a phase in which I was convinced I was gay and I tried very hard to fit into, what I would call now, stereotypes. I dressed differently and my behaviour and perception of people and things changed. Then I thought I was bisexual, but I still felt very uncomfortable labelling myself. I felt a strong limitation coming along with the classification. And not only did I not really have an answer to being queried about my sexual orientation by others, but I also asked myself who I was and the inability to give an answer to myself used to tear me up at times.

Until I quit. I evolved. As we are all searching for approval and acceptance somehow, my search for likely minded people finally led to the thoughts of some greater minds and what they said about sexuality gave me the strength to stick to what I felt was right. So I stopped pigeonholing myself. I decided I was going to live free, love who I wanted to love and feel attracted to whoever I would feel attracted to. I decided I was not going to limit myself anymore with words, or with a word, nor did I try to reduce myself to a sexual orientation anymore. However, I would never go as far as to claim that I had not been myself in any of the phases that I went through. It’s very clear to me that everything I went through, has led to my current mindset. And had it not happened the way it did, I would not be where I am right now.

One of these people is Jane Lynch. On “The Late Late Show with Craig Ferguson” she once said: “Sexuality doesn’t have to be black and white. Sometimes it’s grey and it swims…” And it’s even more than just grey, it’s colourful and bright and dark and light and heavy. It’s so many different things. They shouldn’t all be forced into one word, that goes on to define who you may love or may not.

But in the end, it was a part of Stephen Fry’s speech at the Oxford Union Society that inspired me to write this, so much in fact that I started to write it down word by word. I highly recommend to you not only to watch the video from where I set it to start, but right from the beginning.

“Once there’s a word for it, you suddenly feel you have to put your foot and then the other foot on that side of the line. Rather than just falling in love with people, you have to fall in love with a specific gender or sex. Which is of course not necessarily how we, well any one of us, would have been, whether gay or straight, if we’d been born 200 years ago.
We would have thought, ‘Well that’s an attractive person. I really would love to give that person a thorough licking.’ And then you’d say afterwards, ‘Hang on! That’s a chap. That can’t be right. Well alright, let’s go on, let’s have…, give it a crack, see what happens.’ And that’s more or less how you would go through life. But once there’s a word for it, you’d go, ‘Oh, hello! That means I’m a homosexual. Well I can’t, I can’t be that, because it’s against the law, it’s disgusting, because it’s against this religion, because it’s, you know, generally wrong.’
So suddenly you’re a noun instead of a verb. And as the philosophe T. E. Hulme […] said, ‘There are no nouns in the universe.’ Which any physicist here, I am sure, would agree with. Everything is a process. Everything! T. E. Hulme uses the wonderful phrase of a ‘concrete flux of interpenetrating intensities’, which is rather good, isn’t it? […] That’s what we all are: verbs. We happen, we don’t…, we are not nouns. Even tables are a process. They are being a table, stably more or less in time. We are being ourselves, more or less stably in time.”

Wenn man mich fragt, wie alt ich bin, muss ich jedes Mal nachrechnen. Aber mit meiner auf meinen linken Arm tätowierten Geburtsurkunde und meinem Pocket-Abakus, den ich immer dabei hab, schaff ichs dann doch meistens es irgendwie herauszufinden.

Außer das eine Mal, als ich das oberste Stäbchen vom Abakus zerbrochen hatte, weil ich ihn hinten in der rechten Gesäßtasche meiner 3/4 Military Cargohose eingesteckt und mich draufgesetzt hatte. Das war ein Malheur! Sie können Sich das nicht vorstellen! Alle zehn roten Kugerln waren mir von einem kleinen Loch in der Gesäßtasche aus über ein weiteres kleines Loch in meiner Feinrippuntergatte direkt rektal (direktal) ins Popschloch gekullert. Und das gänzlich ohne dass ich davon Wind bekommen hatte. Und am nächsten Tag beim Morgenschiss dann natürlich die Verwunderung, woher auf einmal das Blut im Stuhl kam.

Ich hab dann natürlich gleich nach Henry geläutet, der mich ins Spital bringen wollte. Aber ich hasse Spitäler und die Menschen dort. Alle sind sie krank und schmutzig und Ausländer. Deshalb hab ich darauf bestanden, dass er mich zu Hause verarztet. Und mit seinem medizinisch geschulten Glasauge hat er natürlich gleich gesehen, dass das kein Blut im Stuhl war, sondern nur die roten Zählkugerln von meinem Pocket-Abakus. Und mit meiner unvergleichlich großen Überzeugungskraft hab ich es dann geschafft, ihn dazu zu überreden, sich aus den Stallungen einen der veterinärmedizinischen überdimensional großen Latexhandschuhe zu holen, wie man sie von Kuhgeburten kennt, und mir an Ort und Stelle die restlichen Kugerln aus dem Rektum zu fischen. Davon war er zwar nicht besonders begeistert, aber wie es so schön heißt: Man muss machen, was man machen lassen kann.

Das war der Tag, an dem ich die Abakusanalkugeln erfunden habe, die einem gleichermaßen das Rechnen beibringen, als auch und die Rosette stimulieren. Jetzt wissen Sie auch, wodurch ich so reich geworden bin. Durch den Verkauf von Sexspielzeug.

Hochachtungsvoll,
Ihr Dr. Spielvogel

Nachwort und Widmung:
Zu dieser Geschichte inspiriert, hat mich der Ehrgeiz von Pastor N’bebe aus Uganda, der dort seit Jahrzehnten unermüdlich gegen die Homosexualität kämpft, zugleich aber einer der größten Privatabnehmer von Abakusanalkugeln unserer Firma ist. #eatdapoopoo Aber auch Charlotte Roche. Weil die schreibt auch grausliche Sachen und ist damit aber total berühmt.

Bildquelle: http://picture.yatego.com/images/4f9a4cbb988427.6/GK-WM324-kqh/rechenrahmen-rechenschieber-abakus-holz-60-ringe.jpg