It’s been said that being bisexual doubles your chances of getting a date on a Friday night. To be honest, I’ve never really dated. I’m more of a “That was fun. Now tell me where you live so I can stay there forever and ever; don’t worry, I’ll pitch in for rent, ” kind of girl. I do know that being bisexual confuses people who are not bisexual. I know that it prompts people to say things like, “Bisexuals are just greedy,” “Bisexual women eventually want to marry men and just make out with other women in public for attention,” and “People who claim to be bisexual are really just too afraid to come out of the closet all the way.” Well, I’m sorry for confusing you with my open-minded, diversity-welcoming disposition. I hate to break it to you, ignorant person who is also more than likely a Republican with a bad case of sleep apnea and a heavy a reliance on Internet pornography and polarizing labels. But going both ways – off-roading – if you will, is the direction of the future. As a precaution, I suggest you put it into four wheel drive and buckle up for the ride.
As unsettling as some of you may find the idea of bisexuality, bisexual people don’t really have time to worry about how you feel about something that is so absolutely none of your business. Bisexual people are more concerned with the pendulous force between their legs. It’s like riding the mechanical bull at Saddle Ranch, minus the nasty bruising that turns all ghoulish green and sewer hued. Just when you think you’ve found the perfect set of genitals to cozy up to for the winter; the bi-gina is all like, “Hmmm, never-mind. I want that one over there and it’s the exact opposite of this one that I have right now. Surprise!” I know, I know. My interpretation of bisexuality is far less articulate and diplomatic than Mario Bello’s heartfelt ode to the “Modern Family.” It should be noted that I’m being hyperbolic. Being bi does not literally feel like chugging a pale ale or seven amidst a rowdy, oversexed, twenty-something crowd at Saddle Ranch. There are far too many frat boys at Saddle Ranch for this analogy to be accurate. But shout out to my fellow bull riders!
When I’m single, or just casually playing the field, I’m on an all gender-bender. A real free for all. On a Friday night, I could be makin’ eyes with a skate dude (I could be, but I’m actually probably making out with him in the bathroom), and then that Saturday I’m feeling on her booty. These days, I’m happily engaged to a man, and not attracted to any men except for him. In fact, I find most other penises (ew penises) to be like surreal Dali paintings. Sometimes I honestly can’t help but envision the collective cocks of the world severed from their bodies, floating and dancing clumsily like Hot Dog on a Stick mascots. I mean, this is obviously not normal, but it is productive for my relationship. I don’t really understand how my sexual attraction control system works. Sometimes it’s into blonde, bosomy porn stars, and other times it’s pitter-pattering for 40+ bearded ex-rock stars (Hi Rick!). Who is running things down there, Denzel Washington’s character in Flight?
So, even though I’ve sworn away my V to an awesome dude photographer for the remainder of my time on this earth, I sometimes find certain women enticing. And I’m not even talking about the urge to mix and match private parts. It’s just that women have this magic about them. Especially my friend J, who grows mushrooms and mixes cocktails infused with herbs from her garden. And my friend S, an eccentric opera singer. And Julianne Moore. Among my queer friends, it’s socially acceptable to express attraction to one another in an almost innocent, playful way. It’s like we all reside in this big happy flirty commune where we share a mutual understanding of the fluidity of sexuality and the weird things our pheromones inspire on a daily basis. But we always respect one another’s boundaries and relationships and know if and where a line needs to be drawn. J identifies as a lesbian. Though she occasionally hooks up with dudes, she’s not particularly into it. S loves attention from all genders, and is basically the pie eating contest winner equivalent of sex. I’ve been in love with guys and girls; had my heart broken by both team captains. I feel like I am, in the purest form, a bisexual. But I’m totally content being committed to the person I’m with; and that person just happens to be a man who is fine with me writing articles of this explicit nature.
The one thing that seems to tame my indecisive bi-gina is falling in love. Real love, not just filthy, fleeting, smutty, passionate lust. When I am in a relationship with someone, whatever gender, as long as I am happy and healthy, I am generally satisfied with whatever toolset I’m tinkering with. This is another thing that baffles non-bisexual people. They assume if you’re bi and in a relationship with a man, then you are free, and perhaps even encouraged, to sleep with women. The assumption is that there may be a rotating third member of the relationship or that threesomes occur with regularity and that your bedroom is just a mess of limbs and hair. This may be the case in some relationships, but it isn’t in mine. While my male partner and I have discussed the possibility that down the line I may want to sleep with a woman again, it is by no means something that I’m just allowed to up and do on a Friday night without a very clear discussion of rules and regulations and future implications. Even though I’m “bi,” my relationship is monogamous. Breaking those rules would be considered cheating. There would be consequences, like break-ups and broken hearts and broken trust.
While this next one is a less common scenario, I’ve spoken with some bi ladies whose female partners were comfortable with them stepping out to dabble in the occasional dude. I’ve also, more frequently, chatted with bi ladies whose female partners would go fucking bonkers bananas cray cray if the idea of sleeping with a man was even brought up or entertained. These are personal preferences completely unrelated to sexual orientations. These situations arise in even the most hetero of relationships. Cheaters, swingers, open relationships, polyamory, disposable playthings, kink: these are relationship issues, not bi relationship issues.
I hope this clarifies a few things for you so that you stop asking me whether my fiancé and I have “girlfriend.” I am far too jealous to watch him act out an attraction to anyone else. But if he wants to watch me mess around with that Erewhon bag checktress (female bag checker) well, we’ll cross that bridge if we get to it. #sorrymom