Declarations and depictions of intersexual adults. Angry and bitter. That was the consensus. But theirs was no monopoly. Everybody supposed to be normal and more than normal wanted something else.
This was a banal statement. I didn't feel banal making it. I could bet with surety that whoever possessed the body I would choose would want some other type. A wants B B wants C C wants A or D. Some people treated this as a game and maybe it was, to keep us from going insane.
As for me, discontented and furious, snarling and sarcastic rather than solely bitter, I was burdened with more: the lack of categorization. What an extremely apropo joke of life if I had come to possess an intersexual mind without a recognizably intersexual body. I might be the product of some strange Wolbachian alchemy.

Everyone assumes, however twisted and hellbent you are, that you prefer one sex or the other, that you are attracted to one sex or the other. What happens to those who prefer androgyny?
I had come to expect incredibly clever, convoluted jokes like this from life. In some cases the cruelty was so exquisite it was nearly worth enduring for the amazement.
I lacked the validation of medical tests and prescription drugs and government aid. I lacked the definition and community even if in exile. There is no exile on the Internet. Or, if you prefer, there are chat rooms for exiles of every extraction.

 

The coals of my discontent glowed and pulsed with a ferocity which was sometimes depressing and sometimes dangerously seductive. Anger cascaded like nitro, like plastic through underground cells went the fiery impulses along my axons. I was twenty years behind.

I was thirty-three, nearly thirty-four, and I felt like twelve or fourteen. I had seen an Aubrey Beardsley. Was it an awakening? I felt only sourness conjugating the premise. The thought. The conclusion sprung full-grown and audacious into my mind like naked Aphrodite from the obscurities of the sea.
I was androgynous.
I was changed forever.
I had understood how it was, before, the seeking, the hungering, the yearning and the need, I could see how it was and what it would reveal and send reverberating throughout the cultures and the ages but now I felt it. And I was still outside. And now it was too late.
Misfit. Even more a misfit than I had been. As much a misfit as the intersexual, but without....
"What are you thinking?"