Ace in the Hole

Oh, sorry! You didn’t see me here.

But that’s okay, because nobody notices normal.

Nobody thinks to ask “Hey, are you…” No. You’d rather assume.

And whilst you’re making an ass out of you, I remain unnoticed. Unknown.

Invisible in my own home because what could be worse than being unknown?

Being disowned.

So there you all are, homogenised in your heteronormativity, and you see me - except you don’t.

Not really. You see what you want to see. A young man. Set free. Exploring romantic activity.

And with women as well! Oh, how swell! Let’s not dwell on the fact that not once did he desire a sexual act.

No, not once did he cast that there line out to sea nor step foot in the waters of sexuality.

But of course, how could he? He’s been raised in a man-praising, slut-shaming, sex-crazy society!

Where the highest form of art is bare-naked nudity and the highest form of pleasure is triple X-rated pornography.

During puberty, young boys are taught that if they cannot think with their heads, then they should think with their heads.

And that piss is not the only thing with which they’ll wet the bed. Whether it be TV and movies, or their hordes of male friends,

or the billboards that are plastered with ladies’ rear ends, young boys are taught that their penis comes first.

If those are the base standards for manhood, then you can go ahead and crown me the worst.

You might tell me it’s a matter of pride. That if I’m feeling erased then I should carve my face into stone.

That I’m not alone.

That there is a whole community out there waiting for me, arms open wide. L.G.B.T.Q.A PRIDE!!

But don’t forget! The A stands for Ally.

And why are you looking at girls when you’re a guy? You don’t belong here. You’re not really queer. You’re just after the attention.

These people complain about having to fight for their right to party when I have to fight for my right to be a part of the party in which the celebration of a win is a kiss which I would not miss if I missed.

No, I insist.

Tell me again how I should enlist in an army which denies I exist.

After all, if I’m heard and not seen, then my problems don’t matter, and I should be grateful for how lucky that makes me.

Is it really so bad when the invisible man asks to be seen?

Is it so absurd that there could be people out there who don’t find themselves concerned with that most primal urge when with every other word, they are the boy who is begging to be heard?

Oh, sorry! You didn’t see me here. But that’s okay, because nobody ever sees the invisible.