*BIIIG fuckin rant hours btw (esp. in the tags) so I guess scroll on if you're not down for that. Might delete later but I need to vent*
So I identify as nonbinary and gender queer (though not really trans, doesn't ring true for me personally) and tbh I'm very sick of the Online Queers talking shit about enbies whose partners identify as straight or gay/lesbian rather than bi for "settling for someone who doesn't respect" us.
My partner loves me more than I ever thought humanly possible and respects me possibly even more than he loves me. He also happens to identify as a straight man. When we met, 6 years ago, I still identified fully as a cis woman, and he viewed me as such. About a year ago, I came out to myself and to him, and tbh he doesn't fully "get" all of it because he's literally never had to question anything about his identity in his life up till now, but he tries his best and has never once made me feel like he doesn't see me for the person I've come to realise I am. He is also, obviously, still attracted to me and still loves me just as much, despite our outwardly incompatible clusters of labels.
Maybe the relationship wouldn't have held up if I decided to present significantly more masc or had any inclination to physically transition, etc. but I really don't. Maybe if I'd come out much earlier in the relationship, we would have amicably gone our separate ways. Maybe not. We'll never know because after 5+ years into a serious relationship, you dont really see your partner through the lens of social constructs like gender. You just see them as your person. So there was never really a question for us of how my nonbinariness would or wouldn't affect things. It just didn't factor into it.
If we weren't already together, my partner would likely only approach women. He has only dated women in the past, and apparently never really thought about other options. I am the solitary exception to an extremely strong trend. I'm not insecure enough in my identity to demand he change his whole concept of his sexuality and identity to fit the specific edge case I represent into it. In much the same way that I wouldn't demand a lesbian suddenly identify as bi just because they were attracted to me. Other people's perceptions of my gender, and the interaction their stated sexuality has with that is their business. As long as my partner can reconcile the two in his own head, that's good enough for me.
Identity, and especially queer identities, are so much more nuanced and complicated than a single word can fully capture. It's unreasonable and frankly patronising to assume you know the intricacies of someone else's relationship dynamics based solely on those words. It's also condescending as fuck to tell me my partner doesn't respect my queerness just because he's straight when you don't actually know either of us and I'd thank y'all to butt the fuck out.
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living with ghoap was nice. two big burly fellas to keep you company, to reach the top shelves in the kitchen for you, to absolutely plough you into the mattress when you couldnt itch your own scratch for once. they were good lads.
but there were countless times where they’d be away for work, so you knew you couldnt be fully dependent on them. they knew that too, so they weren’t exactly going to object to you having fun without them. so long as you were happy and safe, they were content.
but fuck, the men out there are absolutely horrible to deal with. sleazy, there’s just… no ability to have any kind of banter with these things that think only with their cocks.
until you meet kilgöre alexander.
he’s gigantic, his shoulders probably share the same width as mount everest’s base. easily, kilgöre is the tallest man you’ve ever been with. he dwarfs simon in size, which is very telling in itself.
it’s hard to pry away at who kilgöre is as a person. he’s austrian, likes keeping himself to himself. absolutely refuses to tell you what he does for a living, because it’s on a need to know basis. “sounds like something a terrorist would say.” you jokingly coo one night at dinner, smirking as he rolls his foggy blue eyes at your comment. “har har, very funny.” he mockingly says, the corners of his lips twitching ever so slightly.
he’s one of the best things that’s happened to you in a while. he doesn’t know about the particular living arrangement you share with simon and johnny— like he says, it’s on a need to know basis. plus, you haven’t boned either of them since you met this fella. ghoap know what’s up, but they’re not bothered by it. they’re just glad to see you doing well for yourself. “ye have a glow about ye, love.” johnny coos in your ear one day, smirking as he watches you fluster and flounder around the kitchen, trying to make excuses. “it’s the vitamins i’m taking” this and “i’ve quit dairy” that. he knows the truth, simon know its too.
but there’s one thing that makes the attachment to this man absolutely unbearable.
he disappears from time to time.
some days it’s only a couple of days, maybe a couple of weeks at a push. absolutely no contact.
he swears it’s to do with his line of work, that one day he’ll be able to tell you everything. but for now, he asks just for one thing.
“just… wait for me.”
it’s been almost a month with no contact from kilgöre, and it feels like every morning with no text, no nothing, you have a growing pit inside of you that can’t stop gnawing at you, eating you up whole. what the fuck? what could he possibly do for a career that makes it so he goes days without checking his phone? it makes you feel sick to your stomach. what if he’s in a gang or something?
besides, how the fuck can you keep on waiting for someone who you don’t even know is even alive? for all you know, this behemoth of a man has been hog tied and dumped at the bottom of a lake with cinder blocks strapped to his feet. how are you supposed to wait for someone who shows no signs of leaving or coming back?
“that light in yer eyes has dulled.” johnny remarks one evening, a sad smile on his lips. your eyebrows knit together, feigning confusion. “huh? oh, yeah. uh… it’s the gluten intolerance i reckon.” you murmur to yourself, flashing a weak smile to consolidate his inquisitive gaze. “i’m fine, though.”
simon huffs as he leers next to you, skilfully flaying pieces of fish with a pensive look. both you and johnny glance at him, which only makes him grunt in response. you furrow your eyebrows at him, urging him to elaborate on what the pressing issue is.
“we reckon shit’s hit the fan with that new bloke of yours.” simon bluntly replies as he wipes off the chopping board with a damp cloth, hands gently scooping up guts, scales and delicate fish bones to dispose of. you scoff, eyes never leaving the cuts of fish meat that rest on a plate, waiting to be delicately battered and fried up.
“whatev—“
“and i know you, you’ll try and refute the truth that i know what’s going on. that we know what’s going on. so, none of this nonsense, alright? what’s up?”
johnny and simon silently watch you, their simultaneous waiting for any reaction from you making your skin crawl. at first, you scowl and huff. shifting your weight from foot to foot as you become defensive. simon cuts you off again, “none of that bollocks. tell the truth.”
you give in. on bated breath, you explain the whole situation. how kilgöre is the kind of man you had never expected to fall for, how he had managed to steal your attention even while being so elusive and secretive. how you desperately want him to come back to you, like he said he would.
johnny frowns, and simon nods in your direction, wiping his blood stained hands with the damp cloth. “fishy hands.” he murmurs, wiggling his fingers to prove he can’t comfort you with a hug. johnny nods, swiftly making his way around the kitchen island to come give you a warm hug. it’s a solid hug, one you’d never object to having. johnny’s large hands rub circles to your back, his bearded chin resting against your shoulder as he sways gently.
simon stands behind johnny, holding eye contact with you as he continued to carefully clean his hands. he raises his eyebrows in thought, before glancing down at his fingernails as he begins to meticulously clean underneath them to rid his skin of all things fish.
“this… kilgöre bloke. i reckon if he’s the one, he’s worth waitin’ for. but don’t think for a second he should get away with leavin’ you this long without so much as a text, yeah? rip ‘im a new one when he comes back.” he advises, glancing back up at you with a slight smirk when he hears you chuckle, your laugh strained with emotion.
he steps closer, carefully tilting your chin up so you can meet his gaze better. he gently wipes a stray tear from your cheek. “if he’s the man you think he is, he’ll explain everything if you ask him to. and if he does? great. if he doesn’t?” you wince at the idea, frowning.
he sighs, pressing a gentle kiss to your brow.
“then he’s a bloody eejit, as our johnny boy would say.”
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