I was never quite sure of my masculinity. It was easy to hide my feminine side at Milkweed. It's an all-boys school, so there isn't much feminine energy about. Plus, there were about four thousand students when I was attending, so even if you were a nobody like me, you'd easily get caught if you put so much as a drop of perfume on your skin.

My current residence, unfortunately, is absolutely nothing like my old Alma mater. This dreadful place, known as Galaxy Hills, has no more than thirty people. You can get away with pretty much anything and everything in this ridiculously empty village. The boys in this town are too stupid for me to associate with, so I've become accustomed to joining the girls in their activities. Most of the time, however, I'm in solitude. So everywhere I go, I feel the urge to let my true tastes out.

I wouldn't dare let my "interests" be known to these barbaric children. If the graceful students at a massive academy found it unacceptable, then these small-town, close-minded morons would rip me apart. Even the decision of sitting with the girls at lunch, who are still not trustworthy enough to know my secret, was extremely risky.

I remember the horrid times when I almost let my femininity slip. One of them took place during one of Fanboy and Chum Chum's stupid schemes. The two village idiots were blabbering to all the school students about being pirates and looking for a treasure chest they buried. When everyone asked of what was in said chest, I just had to chime in and mention my wish for soap and perfume. How could I have been so foolish? The next three days at school were littered with questions about my sexual orientation. Some people didn't even have the courtesy to ask and just started telling everybody I was homosexual. Darn it, I am bisexual, not that I would tell them that.

The only other time I remember accidentally dropping my "young man" guard was at Fanboy's house whilst looking at board games. I took an interest to the dress-up doll game, and he immediately tossed it away, saying he and Chum Chum melted the pieces. Luckily, they have no idea why I'm not as "manly" as most of the other boys in town. Their reasoning is that all British people are "girly" like me, so I'm not feminine, I'm just really British. That is one of the only reasons I'm thankful for their idiotic ways.

Now let me explain to you just how "girly" I am before you go flying off the handle with drawings of me in dresses. I'm not so girly that I'd wear a skirt or dress to school. Here are the feminine things I do;

I'd much rather wear skinny jeans than the ones I wear now.

I love cardigans and tight V-neck shirts.

I wear perfume.

If I get angry enough, I wag my finger in an "S" motion.

I constantly put my hands on my very prominent hips.

I grow my hair rather long.

I diet and watch my figure rather than lift weights and build muscle.

Bunny slippers and a night gown are my pajamas of choice.

I write in a diary.

I wear just a bit of mascara; enough to make my lashes pop, but not enough for people to notice that I'm sporting make-up.

I probably practice other behaviors similar to that of a girl, but those are the things that stand out the most.

Until I can find a place or person to be open with, I will stay incognito as a "really British guy". I suppose I could be open with Fanboy and Chum Chum, since they're admittedly too kind-hearted to judge me for things like that. I mean, how on earth could they judge me for favoring "weird clothing" when they run around in spandex? Still, I shan't take any chances, as their idiocy has caused me great grief on many occasions. Besides, I already confide in my necronomicon. He hasn't judged me in all the years I've had him, and I've told him of my most personal secrets. However, he can't really provide me with any advice or knowledge on the matter. He's a necronomicon after all, not Girls' Life magazine.

I guess the right person will come along sometime to set me free from this closet full of cardigans. For now, I'm just really, really British.