I was conceived and born in a working class family, but my "biological father" decided that whilst I was still in the womb, cheating on my mother would be a smashing idea. Long story short, she found out and only six months after my birth I was living with my grandparents, a decidedly middle class family.
I don't really know my "bio-father" because he was presented with a choice between visiting me, or not paying child support. He chose the latter option, and so I don't really know him. All I know are what my mother and grandparents have told me, and some fractured memories, and news that travelled down the grapevine about his activities. Everything I have heard has left me suspecting even if I'm not a (psycho/socio)path, the man was.
Maybe that's where my own "uniqueness" stems? It was often noted as I developed that some of my mannerisms were reminiscent of his, which could be biological, or just coincidence. Either way the man got married at least twice and has at least some children in the world (my "half-relatives", none of whom I have met or are particularly interested in meeting), so he must have been doing something right somewhere along the line.
I was raised in what could be called either upper-working class or middle class by a mother and step-father. Both could be called "caring parents" and I can't blame them for anything. Internally blaming your parents is a cop-out anyway. We all know full well who we are, we all make our choices and we all have to deal with our own consequences.
In my early teenage years, I was definitely the loner and outcast. Foolishly, I didn't try to fit in. I knew everybody around me was different from me somehow, but couldn't figure out how. I describe it as if everybody had been given a blueprint on how to behave, and I had been ill that day. I had to figure out how to fit in based on how others behaved, and that just seemed like so much effort. It seemed easier to ignore people and just move through life as a shadow in the corner. Even now, I mess up. Some subtle rule (or even exception to a rule) I have not yet encountered arises, and people for a brief second see something else behind the smile. Fortunately, they usually dismiss that glance and life carries on regardless.
During those years, people definitely picked up on that I was a void in the room of "empaths". I would sometimes even be randomly attacked with questions like "Do you love your parents?". Very perceptive children, these must have been, to go straight for the jugular like that. At the time my response was a charmingly weary, "uhm...I guess". Not the correct response, it seemed. Do I love my parents? Well, considering the amount of varying definitions of the word love I'm sure one of them must match in such a way that I can answer "yes, of course".
I must admit never understood family ties or "kinship", but I wish no harm on my family and they definitely are better for me well and healthy than they are suffering. So I guess yes you could say I love them, in a very selfish way. Every instinct ingrained into me is screaming not to write that, because it's definitely not something I'd say if I weren't anonymous, but I'm trying to be honest and this is my honesty.
Eventually the importance of fitting in did catch on, as did that whilst confusing and irrational, people were amusing to be around. I suspect the aspects of themselves I found most confusing, irrational and amusing weren't some of their favourite traits, but didn't let that show. In my mid-late teens I caught a lucky break that enabled me to "socialise" more. My previous reclusion, ironically perhaps helped me in this. I could be charming and friendly, and when my attention to the mask dropped and I let something horrible slip out, they dismissed it as me not quite being out of my shell yet.
The social mask seems like a muscle for me, the more it is used the longer I can maintain it, but if I go too long wearing the mask then the social fatigue tends to bring out my more destructive tendencies. Moderation, I have found, is the key to maintenance.
Something I discovered was people responded best to a kind of quirky, flamboyant personality. It meant I didn't have to keep up with sports but could still befriend males, a welcome lack of effort on my part since I've never understood the appeal in watching sports (all I see are people shouting at a screen like apes, as if the screen could respond back. What's the point? Why watch when you can find out the score after the fact anyway?), which seemed to be the key point most of the 'alpha males' bonded around. Woman were more comfortable around the flamboyant behaviour too, and I didn't have to mix behaviours up too much so that avoided suspicions of it all being a carefully crafted act. And I could easily change into this mannerism because, as I mentioned, people who compared me a couple of years ago to the "new me" would simply assume I had come out of my shell.
I've never had much interest in sex, which also may have helped put the females at ease. It's just never been a preoccupation of mine. I don't think any of the labels apply to me. Most men and a lot of woman I know definitely seem to have some kind of physical attraction to people, but I've never felt that particular baseline emotion. I know who is attractive, but it's more like I have a check-list of what is considered attractive and I'm just comparing people to that when I have to comment or consider physical attractiveness.
I guess either "bisexual" or "asexual" are the appropriate labels (or, to sound obnoxious, pansexual), since I can as easily imagine sex with a man as I can a woman. Human sexuality is a complicated thing and, to be honest, I don't automatically get anything positive or negative from the mental image of sex or even pornographic videos. If it suited me to do so, I do know I can perform in both situations. Of course, until a situation arises which "outs" my sexuality or inherent lack of, it's easier to openly identify with the mainstream heterosexuality. Sex definitely seems to me to be more like a means to an end than an end in and of itself.
I nearly miss that early learning period where everything was new and interesting. I made mistakes, but I recovered from those mistakes and carried on. At first I managed to fool myself into thinking I was like the people I socialised with. I never cared for them, but I could pretend I cared. I assumed everybody else was doing the same, they were just ahead of me in the game. I was trying to fake it until I made it, they had already made it. I have since come to know otherwise, and accepted I will never make it. It should depress me, but there is something almost freeing in this acceptance.