Boys Getting Older

It's funny, you know.

I identify as a Boy, but not, perhaps, the way a lot of people think. To a lot of people, Boy implies being young, implies being little. Being a kid, both physically and mentally a little.

But here I am, slowly approaching the big 30. One could be forgiven for thinking, considering how I identify, that I'd be pining for my glory days, desperately trying to get back my youth, trying to be all hip and with it. Of course, that ignores the fact that I was never hip and with it, even when I was young, but it is true - During most of my 20s, I've very much missed my teens. I always kept thinking that I was running out of time, always trying to find ways of keeping myself in the same space I was when I was a teen.

And to be fair, I had a lot of "positive" reinforcement at the time. 17-18 was the time I developed my tragic twink backstory, going to gay sex lounges, meeting people from the internet, etc. I was a pretty boy, I got plenty of attention from older men, and I was absolutely fine at the time with that. When I broke up with my girlfriend when I was 22 or so, I was suddenly stunned at how much positive attention I got from men and women around me, (it was what made me realise that yeah, okay, perhaps I was attractive). It was a great boost to an ego that sorely needed it. But when I went online again, I realised that I was getting far, far less offers than I used to.

And that was when I first started to question the whole being young thing.

Oh, it still took a few years. I still had my freakouts, and I did spend a long time trying to recapture my youth. I had a savings account for saving up for Laser hair removal, I used to get regular waxings, I would insist that Daddy take me out to playgrounds so I could play. And there were milestones. When I sprained both my arm and my leg in as many months, My psych quite bluntly pointed out to me that it was a clear sign that I was not an actual kid - I had an adult body, and I had to respect that. I actually realised this a few months later, on a visit to a playground with Daddy, watching kids play and realising that I simply didn't have the ability to play like they did. As much as I might like to, I will never be a kid, even if I'm a Boy at mind.

And in the last few months, I've realised that I've stopped responding to the usual rises about me getting older. I've been noticing grey hairs (or, at least Daddy has), and it's really not fazing me. The idea of me getting older no longer fills me with dread. Hell, it doesn't really cause mild discomfort anymore.

I think I'm finally accepting that I'm getting older. I've stopped wishing I was younger, but then I guess a lot of that is because I've started to realise that my youth was not neither wasted nor particularly great. I've had a lot of life up to this point, but I wouldn't want to go back and live it again, even knowing what I know right now. I'm also much happier now than I once was, I'm much more comfortable where I am right now. Even if I fee like I don't have a lot of money, I'm typing this on my own laptop on my glorious couch in my beautiful home. I have a Daddy I love, truly and deeply, who I want to spend the rest of my life with, and who wants to spend the rest of his life with me, as well as a Boyfriend who's great to hang out with, who's hot and a nice guy, a job I enjoy, etc.

In short, I think I'm starting to understand that my life is getting better. I don't have to be young to enjoy it, and I'm really looking forward to what life throws at me next.