Erstellt am: 24. 6. 2011 - 14:00 Uhr
Reality Check: Different-Happy
by Erika Eiffel
Being of slight marathon runner build, I have never had to redirect the attention of a man’s gaze upwards in conversation... that is until my tattoo. The highly detailed architecture of the Eiffel Tower creeps up from the V in my t-shirt and to this point is where all eyes seem to go. Naturally this never occurred to me when I decided to emblazon the love of my life on my chest. It only mattered that my tattoo of the Eiffel Tower is a dedication to whom I love and a reminder of what I am… an objectum-sexual.
Perhaps my whole body would be covered in tattoos of various objects had I made this eternal pledge earlier in life. It is this love and the variety of significant connections that has powered me to great heights in my life and always guided me with positive momentum. However, I struggle with the courage to defend my own happiness against the critics…
My twisted road started from my earliest memories communicating and developing relationships to particular objects. Yet I was unaware of any bends until I reached puberty and recognized, while other girls were eyeing up the boys, I had my heart set on a wonderful bridge. Despite this realization, I still felt at ease and natural about my inclination until my mother lashed out at me and started my inevitable push into the back of the closet.
Over the years, all I could do was test the waters and hope to find others like me or at least a friend who would be open to the idea that I was actually in love with an object and not a person. I simply couldn’t understand why it was so hard for them to comprehend my happiness. My love and connection to objects has never held me back. It is only now since I have come out and can do an honest retrospective look that I understand more or less where the problems arise.
It is not that people, especially those closest to me, ever meant to be nasty and punish me for being different. Perhaps they did, I can’t really say. But being the ever-eternal optimist, I think in their own way they were actually trying to help.Sure, I can say that now. It didn’t feel like it in early years. They simply could not wrap their head around my way of being happy in love… that I could be happy in a way that was so different from what makes them happy. So they felt inclined to push their happiness upon me. It was these efforts to make me “happy” that in fact made me so miserable at times.
Sure, I tried to be “happy” in their way. I dated guys, even a gal once but it was so alien to me. Kinda like telling someone to date a wall… After I broke the heart of a close friend by charading as a normal-happy person, I went back to being my different-happy self because really, I may be weird in the eyes of the world. But there are two kinds of weird: harmful weird and harmless weird. If people really took a moment they would see I am simply the latter confused with the former.
I am in different-love and I am different-happy!
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