From Syndrome A.
When I was in second grade, a little girl started calling me Weird One. I was elated. I felt that I had been knighted with some sort of public identity and it felt wonderful. I felt as though I belonged in some way and I hardly ever felt as though I belonged at all.
That same year, classmates pointed out to me that I stood strangely. I had no idea. Looking down at myself, I realized that my hands were drawn up as if holding dangling dust rags, poised to begin cleaning the house. Knees bent backward, stomach poking out much more than normal for an eight-year-old, more like a two-year-old. I had no idea my posture was this awkward until another child pointed it out to me. I made a point of monitoring my posture from then onward.
The year before, as a first grader, I couldn’t understand the game played the entire year where all the little boys and girls pretended they were boyfriend and girlfriend, a merry-go-round of who was currently “going out” with whom. I took stock of the situation quite seriously and determined that I was not actually romantically attracted to any of the boys. I decided therefore that I must be gay, barely knowing what gay was, but knowing it had something to do with not being attracted to the opposite sex.
To read the rest of this story, click on the link below: