Why Am I So Weird with Women? The Woes of a Timid Bisexual.
I rail against bisexual erasure even as I subtly participate in it by censuring myself.
Warning: This is going to be the lamest opening anecdote I’ve ever written.
I’m fourteen and my best friend Morgan is sleeping beside me in bed, her back turned to me, her bare shoulder smooth and beautiful in the moonlight. I’ve been awake for an hour, maybe more, turned on and restless, wishing I could kiss that shoulder, wondering what would happened if I told her I wanted to, wondering if by some miracle she might actually be into it, but way too afraid to ask.
That’s it. I told you it was lame. I’m a sad trembling teenager lusting after her bestie and doing fuck-all about it, and this illustrates how I’ve been with women my entire life. Timid. Scared. Afraid to ruin the friendship. Unsure if what is developing is friendship or something else, and too anxious to find out. I have a lady-loving sex queen inside me screaming for an outlet and I’m too chickenshit to tell a single woman I like her.
Sigh.
I’m eighteen and I meet a dancer named Loree. She’s an out lesbian and friends have set us up. She has close-cropped ginger hair and a swagger that cuts through my timidity. Lucky me. I’m intensely…
