I have always been drawn to apples. Their luscious form, their seductive red, their crisp bite.
I was never popular for good reasons as a child. I was popular because I was unpopular. I had the tendency to prove others wrong with their assumptions of who I was, who I sometimes believed I was. The 2nd grade talent show when I sang my heart out to Celine Dion’s My Heart Will Go On; the sigh of my 8th grade choir teacher as she told me she did not expect me to be soo talented and that the parts for the play were already pre-determined; my basketball coach as he called me to say I was on the team because I was good enough; even though people considered me to be breaking up a close family; the shock in my 4th grade teacher’s eyes as I answered her trivia question correctly (a trivia question deliberately chosen to make me fail); the awe in the faces of my peers as I kicked ass in the high school musical; the surprise of a 4.0 university graduate. It seems people doubted me very often. There is nothing more beautiful, invigorating, and empowering than exceeding the expectations of you. My status as an outcast is my superpower. This status has allowed me to surpass generalizations and has generated a type of magnetism for others. A magnetism that allows others to talk to me about topics others would not necessarily.
My talented and eclectic roommate confiding in me about her first experience having sex. My grandmother describing, in -depth, the anatomy of her vagina and the fact she’s only ever had one partner. A fellow delegate who wants to explore the rivers of polyamory. A best friend and her dry spell. A best friend and her downpour. A lover who is trapped in a static vanilla relationship and longs for sexual exploration. If I was never an outcast, I never would have been soo lucky. Lucky to discover myself and my superpower. I am not a sex therapist nor a sexologist, but I do believe that the ostracization and bullying throughout elementary school, middle school, and high school were well worth the hurt to be a beacon of free sexuality and sexual expression. I may have lived at a military academy and labeled a “corps whore” but while my peers were busy branding me, I was busy building my repertoire. I suppose, I bit the apple, many apples. You may call me Eve.