What is PREFERENCE?

a greater liking for one alternative over another or others. EXAMPLE-“he chose a clock in preference to a watch”

What is CHOICE?

an act of selecting or making a decision when faced with two or more possibilities. EXAMPLE: “the choice between good and evil”

Similar: option alternative possibility possible course of action solution answer way out

the right or ability to make, or possibility of making, such a selection. EXAMPLE “I had to do it, I had no choice”
a range of possibilities from which one or more may be selected. EXAMPLE “you can have a sofa made to order in a choice of over forty fabrics”

This is my narrative and I only speak for myself. I am Cat Patten, I am writing this on behalf of myself – all the following is MY OPINION: I believe GAY PEOPLE make a choice. They have a preference. So is PREFERENCE A CHOICE?

THIS IS WHAT GOOGLE THINKS:

Does preference mean choice?

choice suggests the opportunity or privilege of choosing freely. option implies a power to choose that is specifically granted or guaranteed. alternative implies a need to choose one and reject another possibility. preference suggests a choice guided by one’s judgment or predilections.Dec 25, 2022

When I was 10 years old I got my period for the first time. It was a memory etched into my psyche; the pain, that dreadful archaic pad that wrapped around your waist right at the bikini line. The blood, the flood, the explanation, the regret and the anger. I remember my mom explaining that it was my father’s chromosomes that made me female so essentially she blamed my entire life episode on him. As if I needed more to hate on my father? So when I went out to confront him all angry and in pain what did he do? He laughed. He laughed at me. So I choose to hate him from jump street. 10 years later a British doctor invented ADVIL & I fell in love with this dude. Advil was the calming influence in my life as far as my period goes. 40 years I had that stupid thing and wished every time that there was a way to turn it off and then on when ever I may have needed it. Otherwise it was just a nuisance.

Also at 10 years of age I realized I was gay but because my mother told me “If you ever tell me that you are gay I will disown you. I will throw you out of our home. You will not get one penny from the money we have. We will both shun you.” She told me this 4 times in my life. Once at 10, Once at 15 (I should have left them and gone to my aunt’s to live) once at 27 and the last time at 35 when she realized what I was and that I was never going to marry a guy. She passed away from breast cancer in 2001 April and for the year between 2000 & 2001 I went home to take care of her since my father had a stroke and couldn’t. For that year I gave up my apartment thinking I’ll get another one after she passes but I didn’t because I got stuck there after 911 in NYC. There were no jobs therefore I was at the mercy of my father whom I did not get along with BUT that is another awful story to be told another time.

I believe my mother was a good person, with a good heart and she was smart but she had made bad choices in her life. The first bad choice was allowing her parents to tell her what to do. They told her when she wanted to be a teacher and get $ to go to school that they would buy her a beauty salon instead. Then she said she wanted to be a WAC in the army serving in WW2 – they told her NO you have to stay here since you are not married and take care of us. Her choices were given to her by her parents – she chose to become a person who takes hair off women and men-electrolysis. Then she chose to marry my father to get away from her parents – bad choice. My father was an asshole and was an asshole to the day he died in 2006. He lived 5 years after my mom and cried every single day for her and drove others nuts. He died at 89 years of age and I don’t miss him to this day although writing about him makes me angry. In truth at his funeral even his horrible family did not come well most of them are dead but my partner and I were the only ones at his funeral. At my mother’s there were 100 people. Go figure.

I believe my mom was asexual and part of the gay community. People who hate gay people so much are people who are denying their own sexuality. She saved herself for marriage, which is comical because she had no plans to marry. She should have become a nun but then I wouldn’t have been born. But that would have been fine with me. My mom had a lot of fear and loathing. The reason, I think, because social morays at that time in the 1950s was geared towards a woman being with a man. She never had gay sex but when she had sex with my father she said and I quote “I thought, “was that all it is? Why did my friends rave about sex. I found it boring.”

Sex, is not, boring. Sex is fucking awesome with the right person. But don’t hate on my mom because after that caretaking year of her berating me and giving me the silent treatment and basically doing everything she could to avoid chemo – she died but before that happened she apologized to me by saying 3 words before she passed away and I never spoke to her again: “I. ADORE. YOU”.

Well she had a lot of choices and she had her preferences but so do I. I went out with men and slept with men for 20 years but I also did the same with women. Women are just better people all the way around. Then I said to myself – I don’t like me this way. I started then to go out with women full time and I was happy. Then in 2002 I met my partner and fell in love. I was happy. In 2013 we married and I am still happy. Sadly, my mother was never happy.

I believe when we are born – we are bisexual. We experience boys and girls differently. We grow from those experiences and then we decide who we are and what we want to do with our lives. We make choices. When the gay community tells the world community “this is our preference” I believe that THIS IS OUR CHOICE. We make choices.

When I was a kid I was growing up in the 1960s and if transsexuality was accepted then I might have changed my assigned gender to a boy but I think the only thing that stopped me or would have stopped me is – I did not want a penis. Not big on penis’. I find them silly and frankly my glory hole is better than their penis in oh, so many ways! My partner recently admitted the same thing to me and we had a good laugh. We like being women in love with women. As Mama Ru(Paul) constantly says: “if you cant love yourself how the hell are you gonna love somebody else. Can I get an AMEN up in here?!”

If men could get their period – there would be better drugs on the market every. single. month. If men could get pregnant there would be a mandatory 9 months off from work and another 9 months to a year for them to bond with the baby. If men were forced to be women there would not be any women raped. EVER. If men had more estrogen in their bodies I think they would be kinder to women and there would not be any domestic violence.

Men have a choice; either do better in the world since they are the leaders of this world or move the fuck out of our way. I don’t hate men but I prefer to not date them even though I like some of them as friends. I prefer women to men sexually. I have had men tell me “I’m a lesbian, too!” Yeah….HA!

NO. NO YOU ARE NOT!

I believe we are all born bisexual. Then we make a choice thru the experiences we have in life. We make these choices early even though we might fluctuate in our teens and early 20s. Our choices are our preferences. That is what I believe.

I also believe everyone on earth is racist at one time or another in their lives. I fully admit to it on a very wide basis which is what racism is – a broad stroke of stupidity we all make about different races not our own. I believe we are all hateful disgusting beings sometime in our lives, some do it more than others and lovely thoughtful beings when we need to be. We are both. We are, in fact, human.

You can call me lezzie although I won’t answer to it. It was a bad haircut.

You can call me dyke although I am not a pole wading in the water holding up a platform and there is no dutch boy with his finger in me. Although he’s a cutie!

You can call me freak but I know I am not that.
You can call me by my name or you can call me names; your stones cannot hurt me. I know who and what I am.

I am happy. I choose to be happy as it is my preference.

CogFunPro