Lonerism

Pansexual?

A.N. When it seems like my life is shit I come on here and I escape and it's all thanks to you. Xoxo, bitches. Clay.

Pansexual?

"I'm pansexual."

They all stared at me stupidly. Silence filled the room like a bad smell. "You're what?" my mom gasped.

"It means he's gay, Mom," Adam, my younger brother, budged in, his eyes never leaving the phone caught inbetween his hands.

"No," I paused. I was expecting this kind of reaction. "It means I'm pansexual."

"Gay," he repeated.

"Pansexual," I fought back.

"What's the difference?" Dad asked. "You like girls, don't you? I mean, you dated that girl - what was her name? Sasha. She was nice. You liked her, didn't you?"

I sighed. I sat them all down for this, I should have known they'd be like this. "Yeah, I did. But pansexual means I don't just like girls, Dad."

"So you're bi?" Mom asked, wringing her fingers in her hands and not really looking me in the eyes.

"No," I insisted. "I'm pansexual."

"But what's the difference?" she persisted.

"The difference is that now he likes cock, on top of everything else," Adam laughed.

"Is that true, son? Do you like boys now?" Mom asked again, looking sick.

"Yeah," I said, still trying to explain. "But not just boys."

"So... bisexual?" Dad asked.

"No," I said again. "Pansexual."

"Harry, listen, it's okay if you're gay," Dad began. "You don't need to worry. We love you all the same."

"But I'm not gay," I told them, becoming slightly irritated. "I'm pansexual."

"Son," Mom said, sniffling. She pulled out a handkerchief. "What does that even mean?"

I sighed again. "It means that I'm not gender specific. I like boys and girls, you know, regardless of their gender or their sexuality."

"So you're just greedy?" Dad asked.

"And gay," Adam added.

"Have you slept with guys before?" Mom asked. "How can you even know?"

"Yeah, of course I have, Mom, but this isn't about all the guys I've fucked. It's about guys, girls, and whatever inbetween, okay?"

"Whatever inbetween?" Adam laughed. "So you're a slut who has the hots for trannies." He was laughing again, still texting on his phone.

"Now you're transexual?" Dad asked, face scrunched up in confusion. "I thought you liked pans, or something."

"He's telling us he's gay, Richard," Mom whispered to him, her voice slightly muffled under her repeated sniffling. "He's gay." She said it like she almost didn't believe it herself.

"I'm pansexual," I repeated.

"He basically has sex with pans, Mom. It isn't hard to understand." Adam found himself really funny.

"And what do you like, Adam?" I asked, turning to face him. For the first time, he looked up at me, my younger brother.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It was just yesterday I caught you trying on Mom's Fendi heels."

He went red, and shut up.

"My heels? I don't understand, is Adam gay now too?" She started crying harder.

"I like girls!" he screamed, standing up off of the couch.

"So you're a lesbian?" I asked in sarcasm.

"How can a boy be a lesbian?" Mom asked, totally confused.

"Well, if he was born in the wrong body, and he's really a girl, like Adam is, then he (or I should probably say she) would be a lesbian. Because he (she, sorry) likes girls."

"I'm a boy!" he insisted. "Do I need to prove it?" He started unzipping his jeans.

"No need to show us. That can be fixed with gender reassignment surgery."

"No!" he shouted. "I'm a boy who likes boys!" He looked confused. "Girls! I mean girls! I'm straight!"

"But you try on your mom's heels?" Dad asked.

"Shut up! Focus on Harry, he's the one who abuses kitchen utensils!" He flew a finger right in my direction, looking horrified.

"That isn't what pansexual means, Adam," I said, yet again.

"We get it, okay? It's another word for bisexual," Dad said.

"No. They're different things," I had to say.

"How?" Mom sniffled.

"Well, bi's only like boys and girls who are gay, bi, or straight. But I like boys and girls, intersex, trans, regardless of sexuality."

"I'm confused," Mom said.

"Same," Adam said. "Not about my sexuality, though! Just saying."

"Both of our sons are gay, Richard, what are we going to do? I'll never be a grandmother, oh my word!"

"Except I'm not gay," Adam added.

"Neither am I," I said, stating the obvious.

"Don't lie. This whole pan thing is just a way to hide the fact that you're totally queer and you love cock. You're a size queen, aren't you?"

"A what?"

"A size queen. A gay that loves big, huge, chunky cock," Adam laughed. "In the back door. Like you want to be ripped in half." Mom hit Adam in the face for his rudeness.

"And how do you know all this gay lingo?" Dad asked. He turned red.

"We all know this pan thing is a joke, anyway, so you may as well admit it," Adam finalised, changing the subject back to me yet again.

"Yeah, okay, I'm making it all up," I replied sarcastically. "I actually have a boyfriend."

All of their faces perked up in surprise.

"And he used to be a she."

"So you're straight? You're dating a girl! Thank the Lord! Richard, he's dating a girl, he's straight!"

"No. I'm dating a boy."

"This so confusing," Dad said. "You're dating a boy, so you're gay."

"No." I bit my tongue to keep myself from screaming. "I'm dating a boy who used to be a girl. I'm pan-fucking-sexual."

"I don't get it, you're what?" Mom had to ask, yet again.

"No. You know what? What I am, is so done with all of you right now. Think what you like. Gay, straight, bisexual, transexual, whatever. I'm gonna go fuck my boyfriend now."

That was when I walked out of the room, and how I came out as pansexual.

"So... but... I don't get it," Mom said. "Is he gay, or what?"

"He's gay," Adam replied, standing up from the sofa and taking a deep breath. "And... so am I."