Monday, October 27, 2008
OMG I Told Her
My baby sister called me today. I was doing some work on campus—at the LGBTQI Center. She knew that I had had a date the previous Sunday. I had told her that the name of the person I went out with was in the New Testament. She seemed like she might be thinking that I may not be completely “straight and narrow,” but she proffered “Mary.” I thought that if she guessed only Mary that I was reading her dead wrong. Then she guessed again and said “Joseph.” I asked her if she were kidding or whether it was a real guess. She said that it was a real guess. I felt emboldened and somewhat hopeful. So, I asked her, “Do you want me to tell you the name?” She said, adamantly, “Yes!” So, I just blurted out “Paul.” (I may tell about going out with Paul sometime, but it wasn’t anything too good.) My sister was not really surprised and was very supportive and nice. She even lamented that I had had this on me all these years & didn’t feel like I could tell anyone in the family. She agreed that most of the rest of the family would freak out and/or would blab about it. Nonetheless, I blabbed for over an hour about all sorts of things. She asked a few questions that my interlocutor has asked in the questionnaires. So, I don’t have to hide from one person in my family any more. I love my baby sister even more now. I wept today and am crying again anew, but they are good tears of relief—of a great burden being lifted, even if I still shall bear that burden at other times.
Wednesday, October 15, 2008
Ivan the Great
Earlier, I described how I met Ivan in S____ C______. My relationship with Ivan didn’t last quite as long as some other relationships I have had, but it was filled with some of the most wonderful moments I have ever experienced. I have said several times that I am a romantic at heart, and Ivan was able to exploit that as well as anyone. I may have been the one studying languages, but he sure had a way with words…and more. He told me how erotic he found the noise made by a belt being undone and pulled off. I must admit that I now find that sound erotic too.
Although I had lost my MOTSS virginity with Matt, Ivan was able to “make loving fun” in ways that I had never thought of and in some ways I had indeed only dreamed of previously. He was romantic and sweet and passionate. I do miss having someone like that. We were both busy with our academic careers, but we always seemed to find quality time for just us. We also were good to compromise and accommodate each other. He bought me tickets for a Parliament-Funkadelic concert, although they’re not his favorite, and he went with me. I asked him why he did that, and he said that it was to be with me and to see me enjoy myself. Although he may not have loved the show quite like I did, I certainly enjoyed it even more having him there.
I hate dressing up, but I got done up in what for me passed for finery when he wanted to go to a fancy dinner and then to the symphony. When I got ready, he said, “That’s great! You look hot, but there’s one thing I’d like to change IF it’s all right with you.” I wasn’t sure, but I saw him grin, so I said, “OK.” He told me to close my eyes, and he took off the old tie I had on, and he fixed me up in a new one—that tie of his that had stimulated our first discussion of dating. After I saw what he had done, I laughed, and he pulled on that tie to bring me into an embrace and kiss that were so deep, soft, and passionate that I still feel a little weak in the knees remembering it. It was the kind of kiss that epic poems spring from. It was the kind of kiss that not only stirred the body but breathed new vitality into the heart and soul. Although I did not initiate it, participating in that kiss and embrace is still one of my proudest and happiest moments.
Ivan & I each found spots on the other’s body that we hadn’t known were erogenous zones previously (not at that precise moment, mind you!, but at other times: I got caught up in reverie and in my sense memories there). No one has ever kissed my neck since Ivan in a way that…well, in that way. We connected so powerfully in a sexual way that in retrospect I find it uncanny. We always seemed to share the same mood—romantically playful, hornily furious, hours spent cuddling and caressing without penetration, just sitting in each other’s presence with an occasional touch. The curve from his perfectly-shaped ass to the small of his back was a natural beauty unmatched in this hemisphere. I would’ve designated it a natural wonder of the world for the feeling it inspired in me. I often kissed that small of his back just to hear the pleasured groan he would give every time I did so. The tenderness of his caresses was indescribably, transcendently breathtaking, regardless of whether he used his tender hands, his nimble tongue, or any other part of his most sturdy but gentle flesh. His eyes were almost always fully open and maintaining contact with my eyes in the act of lovemaking. It didn’t matter who was top or bottom. Those eyes displayed such caring, such desire, such humor, such passion, such warmth, such joy. Hey, I told you I was a romantic; I am also a complete sucker. ;) I felt so comfortable being desired and desiring him. That was new to me: no doubts, no thoughts of guilt, no wondering what my folks might say. I was always in the moment with Ivan, & I loved those moments!
Although I had lost my MOTSS virginity with Matt, Ivan was able to “make loving fun” in ways that I had never thought of and in some ways I had indeed only dreamed of previously. He was romantic and sweet and passionate. I do miss having someone like that. We were both busy with our academic careers, but we always seemed to find quality time for just us. We also were good to compromise and accommodate each other. He bought me tickets for a Parliament-Funkadelic concert, although they’re not his favorite, and he went with me. I asked him why he did that, and he said that it was to be with me and to see me enjoy myself. Although he may not have loved the show quite like I did, I certainly enjoyed it even more having him there.
I hate dressing up, but I got done up in what for me passed for finery when he wanted to go to a fancy dinner and then to the symphony. When I got ready, he said, “That’s great! You look hot, but there’s one thing I’d like to change IF it’s all right with you.” I wasn’t sure, but I saw him grin, so I said, “OK.” He told me to close my eyes, and he took off the old tie I had on, and he fixed me up in a new one—that tie of his that had stimulated our first discussion of dating. After I saw what he had done, I laughed, and he pulled on that tie to bring me into an embrace and kiss that were so deep, soft, and passionate that I still feel a little weak in the knees remembering it. It was the kind of kiss that epic poems spring from. It was the kind of kiss that not only stirred the body but breathed new vitality into the heart and soul. Although I did not initiate it, participating in that kiss and embrace is still one of my proudest and happiest moments.
Ivan & I each found spots on the other’s body that we hadn’t known were erogenous zones previously (not at that precise moment, mind you!, but at other times: I got caught up in reverie and in my sense memories there). No one has ever kissed my neck since Ivan in a way that…well, in that way. We connected so powerfully in a sexual way that in retrospect I find it uncanny. We always seemed to share the same mood—romantically playful, hornily furious, hours spent cuddling and caressing without penetration, just sitting in each other’s presence with an occasional touch. The curve from his perfectly-shaped ass to the small of his back was a natural beauty unmatched in this hemisphere. I would’ve designated it a natural wonder of the world for the feeling it inspired in me. I often kissed that small of his back just to hear the pleasured groan he would give every time I did so. The tenderness of his caresses was indescribably, transcendently breathtaking, regardless of whether he used his tender hands, his nimble tongue, or any other part of his most sturdy but gentle flesh. His eyes were almost always fully open and maintaining contact with my eyes in the act of lovemaking. It didn’t matter who was top or bottom. Those eyes displayed such caring, such desire, such humor, such passion, such warmth, such joy. Hey, I told you I was a romantic; I am also a complete sucker. ;) I felt so comfortable being desired and desiring him. That was new to me: no doubts, no thoughts of guilt, no wondering what my folks might say. I was always in the moment with Ivan, & I loved those moments!
Monday, October 13, 2008
National Coming Out Day
Here is what I read in public for National Coming Out Day. Some of it may seem familiar if you've read any of these entries before. ;)
People are here today sharing their coming out stories, which is a wonderful, commendable thing, and I am proud to be in their valiant company today. There is one caveat, however: we may all have a really good story or one “first coming out story,” but we each have many stories. Coming out is a continuing process, renewed (or not) in new places, among new people. Of course for some people *coughs* *my family* it never ends or never even really begins since the thing they ignore long enough goes away until you cast light back onto that area that they chose to let get overgrown by brambles and shadows, then the pattern starts anew. You can get any number of responses when you come out:
“Really?!?”
“Ewww!”
“Well, DUH!!!”
“I’ll pray for you!”
“Get away from me!”
“I respect your choice.”
Choice. That’s the one that still always gets to me a little bit. My father was a career military man. You don’t ponder, think about, consider whether it’s a good idea, choose whom you salute. (I’m a guy, remember, so I’ll let that image process properly a sec.)
NEWAZ, the other question in discussing your own personal tale of coming out is do you relate a story about coming out to someone else or to yourself? Which of all the possible tales is the most touching story, the most important to the teller? Is it the drive to claim power over your self-expression to share with those you care about or even to tick off those that need to be taken down a peg or 72? Is it the emotional account of revealing an integral and important part of your life to your family or best friend? Is it that time you tried to be subtle, but you were apparently too subtle because no one picked up that hairpin your dropped? Is it some hilarious anecdote involving those you work with when the office goes out for an after-hours drink and you end up singing ABBA or quoting Margaret Cho endlessly? Is it that moment within yourself when you stand in front of a special someone first stammering then pursing your lips afraid of saying the incredibly stupid thing that you know you’re inevitably going to say only to have those lips open in acceptance of that first kiss while those worries and the very world around you melt away in a flash of warmth? It all depends on the teller choosing among the myriad possible narratives to share.
I suppose that one of my personal favorite coming out stories involves telling my friend Charlie. Charlie is a registered Democrat and Mormon from East Tennessee. If anyone could understand feeling different, I suppose he could. The day I came out to Charlie was a very strange day. I was at my parents’ house in northeast Tennessee during summer vacation when I was an undergrad. Charlie was coming through town on his way to Washington, DC. He was going to stop by to break up the trip and “sit a spell.” While I was waiting for him to arrive, I received a phone call from Matt, my first serious boyfriend. I had never told anyone about it even though it was a crucial part of my life because I had been raised in a very strict Southern Baptist family. They say my grandfather was a snake-handlin’ preacher. I wasn’t then prepared yet to say that I might be called to a different kind of snake handling.
NEWAZ, Matt was calling me from his folks’ house in Florida. It was the usual “hey-how-are-you-I-miss-you-I-am-so-alone-without-you-we-had-so-much-fun-all-during-the-school-year-and-I-really-love-you-but-now-it’s-summer-and we’re-apart-and-I-wanna-get-my-freak-on-while-I’m-in-Florida-so-let’s-see-other-people-in-fact-why-don’t-we-just-end-it-but-could-you-teach-me-some-cool-things-to-say-to-those-hot-Cuban-boys-I-see-at-the-beach” call. You know that call; we’ve all had them. I wish I could tell you the witty ways in which I let his casual call not faze me, but I can’t remember them, (except for the part about telling him to tell the Cuban hotties that their sisters were old pork by-products). Not long after I hung up from that thrilling call, Charlie arrived. I greeted my friend, but I was a bit dazed. Charlie was starving; he had not had breakfast and it was time for lunch. We decided to go somewhere to get something to eat. At the restaurant, we talked about his trip, what we had both been doing since school got out for the summer, and all manner of trivialities. Charlie is a jokester by nature and was in rare form, but I just wasn’t laughing as much as usual. Charlie noticed that his captive audience wasn’t as chucklebound as usual, so he asked me, “What’s wrong, man? You usually at least laugh politely when I’m tossing the jokes around.”
“I’m sorry. Just a bit distracted, I guess.” I said glumly
“What’s going on?” he asked
“I really doubt you want to hear about it.” I scoffed
“Man, you can tell me anything. Anything but a joke funnier than one of mine!” He laughed.
I felt tired of carrying weight around someone with such levity. “Truthfully? I’m just bummed about a failed romance, I guess.”
“Anyone I know?” he asked
“Not really. Someone I met at school.” I replied
“You know people other than me? What the hell? What’s her name?”
I don’t exactly know why I decided that I would tell him at that point, but I looked at him, took a deep breath, and said, “Matt.”
“HA! That’s a guy’s name! That’s really funny!” He stopped laughing as he realized that this was not some joke. “Oh!...OH! You mean you like guys?”
“That’s half of it, but…Yeah, I mean.” I think I just rolled my eyes when I said it; at least I didn’t cry, or not so much that I’d bother telling y’all…
You could see on his face the way the news processed in his head. “Okay. Well, that’s not what I would’ve thought.”
Like Bette Davis on that ocean cruise in Now,Voyager, I decided to open up: “Honestly Charlie. You’ve seen me snap, and I don’t mean lose control like some postal worker, I mean *snap*. And recall how I sang those Eartha Kitt songs without a trace of irony?”
“Hmmm…I guess you’ve got a point there.” Charlie grinned and looked me right in the eyes. “Look, I don’t care, okay. That doesn’t bother me.”
“Really?”
“Yes, really. I’m a good joketeller, but a lousy liar. You can talk to me about anything, although I may not want too many details, fair enough?”
“So, no blow-by-blow accounts, huh?” The fact that it was pennes that he proceeded to choke on was something I found just a little appropriate.
“Robert, I would smack you if I didn’t think that was so damn funny!” He laughed heartily, genuinely. I felt a lot better. I showed him a couple of wicked snaps from the heyday of In Living Color. We talked at ease about all manner of things again until it was time for Charlie to get back on the road. He said to me, “I am glad you told me. I am very glad that you felt that you could tell me. Makes me have liberal pride, it does, although I don’t get a parade.”
“Is there such a thing as a parade that’s not somehow gay anyway?” I snapped.
“Again, you’ve got a point.” Charlie gave me a big hug before he got in his car. As he was driving away, he rolled down the window and waved. I waved back. Then, he put his hand out the window again, and snapped. So, if you meet a straight Democrat Mormon with a wicked ability to snap, you’ll know who taught him. His comfort with me being myself gave me the courage to tell other people when I returned to school, & Charlie and many of those to whom I came out those many years ago (you damned whippersnappers!) are still some of my greatest friends and allies.
People are here today sharing their coming out stories, which is a wonderful, commendable thing, and I am proud to be in their valiant company today. There is one caveat, however: we may all have a really good story or one “first coming out story,” but we each have many stories. Coming out is a continuing process, renewed (or not) in new places, among new people. Of course for some people *coughs* *my family* it never ends or never even really begins since the thing they ignore long enough goes away until you cast light back onto that area that they chose to let get overgrown by brambles and shadows, then the pattern starts anew. You can get any number of responses when you come out:
“Really?!?”
“Ewww!”
“Well, DUH!!!”
“I’ll pray for you!”
“Get away from me!”
“I respect your choice.”
Choice. That’s the one that still always gets to me a little bit. My father was a career military man. You don’t ponder, think about, consider whether it’s a good idea, choose whom you salute. (I’m a guy, remember, so I’ll let that image process properly a sec.)
NEWAZ, the other question in discussing your own personal tale of coming out is do you relate a story about coming out to someone else or to yourself? Which of all the possible tales is the most touching story, the most important to the teller? Is it the drive to claim power over your self-expression to share with those you care about or even to tick off those that need to be taken down a peg or 72? Is it the emotional account of revealing an integral and important part of your life to your family or best friend? Is it that time you tried to be subtle, but you were apparently too subtle because no one picked up that hairpin your dropped? Is it some hilarious anecdote involving those you work with when the office goes out for an after-hours drink and you end up singing ABBA or quoting Margaret Cho endlessly? Is it that moment within yourself when you stand in front of a special someone first stammering then pursing your lips afraid of saying the incredibly stupid thing that you know you’re inevitably going to say only to have those lips open in acceptance of that first kiss while those worries and the very world around you melt away in a flash of warmth? It all depends on the teller choosing among the myriad possible narratives to share.
I suppose that one of my personal favorite coming out stories involves telling my friend Charlie. Charlie is a registered Democrat and Mormon from East Tennessee. If anyone could understand feeling different, I suppose he could. The day I came out to Charlie was a very strange day. I was at my parents’ house in northeast Tennessee during summer vacation when I was an undergrad. Charlie was coming through town on his way to Washington, DC. He was going to stop by to break up the trip and “sit a spell.” While I was waiting for him to arrive, I received a phone call from Matt, my first serious boyfriend. I had never told anyone about it even though it was a crucial part of my life because I had been raised in a very strict Southern Baptist family. They say my grandfather was a snake-handlin’ preacher. I wasn’t then prepared yet to say that I might be called to a different kind of snake handling.
NEWAZ, Matt was calling me from his folks’ house in Florida. It was the usual “hey-how-are-you-I-miss-you-I-am-so-alone-without-you-we-had-so-much-fun-all-during-the-school-year-and-I-really-love-you-but-now-it’s-summer-and we’re-apart-and-I-wanna-get-my-freak-on-while-I’m-in-Florida-so-let’s-see-other-people-in-fact-why-don’t-we-just-end-it-but-could-you-teach-me-some-cool-things-to-say-to-those-hot-Cuban-boys-I-see-at-the-beach” call. You know that call; we’ve all had them. I wish I could tell you the witty ways in which I let his casual call not faze me, but I can’t remember them, (except for the part about telling him to tell the Cuban hotties that their sisters were old pork by-products). Not long after I hung up from that thrilling call, Charlie arrived. I greeted my friend, but I was a bit dazed. Charlie was starving; he had not had breakfast and it was time for lunch. We decided to go somewhere to get something to eat. At the restaurant, we talked about his trip, what we had both been doing since school got out for the summer, and all manner of trivialities. Charlie is a jokester by nature and was in rare form, but I just wasn’t laughing as much as usual. Charlie noticed that his captive audience wasn’t as chucklebound as usual, so he asked me, “What’s wrong, man? You usually at least laugh politely when I’m tossing the jokes around.”
“I’m sorry. Just a bit distracted, I guess.” I said glumly
“What’s going on?” he asked
“I really doubt you want to hear about it.” I scoffed
“Man, you can tell me anything. Anything but a joke funnier than one of mine!” He laughed.
I felt tired of carrying weight around someone with such levity. “Truthfully? I’m just bummed about a failed romance, I guess.”
“Anyone I know?” he asked
“Not really. Someone I met at school.” I replied
“You know people other than me? What the hell? What’s her name?”
I don’t exactly know why I decided that I would tell him at that point, but I looked at him, took a deep breath, and said, “Matt.”
“HA! That’s a guy’s name! That’s really funny!” He stopped laughing as he realized that this was not some joke. “Oh!...OH! You mean you like guys?”
“That’s half of it, but…Yeah, I mean.” I think I just rolled my eyes when I said it; at least I didn’t cry, or not so much that I’d bother telling y’all…
You could see on his face the way the news processed in his head. “Okay. Well, that’s not what I would’ve thought.”
Like Bette Davis on that ocean cruise in Now,Voyager, I decided to open up: “Honestly Charlie. You’ve seen me snap, and I don’t mean lose control like some postal worker, I mean *snap*. And recall how I sang those Eartha Kitt songs without a trace of irony?”
“Hmmm…I guess you’ve got a point there.” Charlie grinned and looked me right in the eyes. “Look, I don’t care, okay. That doesn’t bother me.”
“Really?”
“Yes, really. I’m a good joketeller, but a lousy liar. You can talk to me about anything, although I may not want too many details, fair enough?”
“So, no blow-by-blow accounts, huh?” The fact that it was pennes that he proceeded to choke on was something I found just a little appropriate.
“Robert, I would smack you if I didn’t think that was so damn funny!” He laughed heartily, genuinely. I felt a lot better. I showed him a couple of wicked snaps from the heyday of In Living Color. We talked at ease about all manner of things again until it was time for Charlie to get back on the road. He said to me, “I am glad you told me. I am very glad that you felt that you could tell me. Makes me have liberal pride, it does, although I don’t get a parade.”
“Is there such a thing as a parade that’s not somehow gay anyway?” I snapped.
“Again, you’ve got a point.” Charlie gave me a big hug before he got in his car. As he was driving away, he rolled down the window and waved. I waved back. Then, he put his hand out the window again, and snapped. So, if you meet a straight Democrat Mormon with a wicked ability to snap, you’ll know who taught him. His comfort with me being myself gave me the courage to tell other people when I returned to school, & Charlie and many of those to whom I came out those many years ago (you damned whippersnappers!) are still some of my greatest friends and allies.
Thursday, October 9, 2008
Bisexual Questionnaire 3
1. Have you ever been in a threeway with a man and a woman at the same time?
A: I have never been in any threeway. That’s not something that generally appeals to me. I prefer a strong, one-on-one bond with a single partner. That’s just me.
2. Have you ever cheated on a partner?
A: Other than my first times, when I was dating a man and a woman at the same time, no. I have kissed someone, but that’s all.
3. Has a partner ever cheated on you?
A: That may be fodder for future entries, but yes.
4. Have you ever wanted to “get married” or whatever with a partner?
A: Yes. Very much so, a couple of times.
5. Are you dating anyone now?
A: *cough* Why? Are you asking me out?
6. Umm…I’ll go to the next question…
A: Suit yourself.
6a. Hey! That wasn’t a question! & I’m trying to keep tabs this time!
A: Okay. You’re right; it wasn’t a question.
6b. What has been the most difficult part of being bi?
A: That is a difficult question to answer, because there are several answers. Continued prejudice or stereotypes about bisexuality is one thing. Not feeling like I can come out to the family I cherish is another.
7. October 11 is National Coming Out Day. Will you come out then? Do bisexuals even celebrate National Coming Out Day?
A: First, National Coming Out Day is for everyone of all sexualities to express themselves freely and not be ashamed of their sexual identity. It’s part of the Human Rights Campaign. Although I am not ashamed, I probably will not come out (again) to my family for a few reasons.
8. Such as?
A: As I have said before, I am selfish enough that I don’t want to miss out on their company, which could be strained, or even ended, if I were to come out at this point. Also, I won’t be near any of them. When I do tell them, wouldn’t it be better face to face than through some phone call or email or something detached and impersonal?
8a. I guess so…
A: Still, I plan on being active in NCOD celebrations in my community. I plan to speak at an event about coming out. I am not going to hide because I am afraid they’ll see, either.
9. What has been the worst part of not coming out to your family?
A: Not being able to share my absolute joy when I have been utterly in love or my utter sadness when that relationship ended.
10. Would you recommend coming out or staying in the closet?
A: Every situation and every individual is different, but I think hiding and being (somewhat) dishonest has sometimes colored my relations with my family. Thus, I would definitely advocate coming out if you felt the least bit comfortable and had a support system. What I have done is neither good nor bad nor worthy of emulation; it’s simply what I have done.
11. What do you mean “(somewhat) dishonest”?
A: Well, I have used the old trick of the generic “they” instead of “he” or “she” when I discussed relationships, when anyone ever wanted to hear about them at all, that is! Since I have never married, I bet there are some in my family that believe that I am still a virgin! Even when I have dated a woman, the discussion never was pursued when I brought it up. When I was living very happily with a man about whom I spoke at length, the idea that he was anything more than “my best bud” never seemed to register either. Don’t know whether that was because it was I was having “relations” out of wedlock or whether they never had any interest in me beyond superficialities anyway.
12. That sounds a little harsh. Do you resent your family?
A: Maybe I do a little, but I love them so very much too. It’s a catch-22 for me. I tend to be a person of great humor, but I admit that this does yet get to me, even after all these years.
13. How else has your family been weird about this?
A: Ooh! Some sort of analyst, eh? Hoping for transference, maybe? Well, there are a couple of key things that always have gotten to me in retrospect. For one thing, when I had my first orgasm, I was awake. I had no idea what was going on. I had been feeling pleasure, then I felt something coming out of my penis that was milky white. I panicked and screamed. My mother, a registered nurse, ran to see what was wrong and I explained the situation *cringes now*
“Did you have a wet dream?” She asked bluntly.
“No, mama. I wasn’t asleep. I wasn’t dreaming at all!”
She gave me a very brief rundown of what was going on. I asked her, “Why didn’t you or Dad tell me this before?”
“I expected you’d learn it from your friends or off the street.” Yes, she actually said that! She assured me that Dad would talk to me about it. I’ve still never had that convo with him, even almost 30 years later.
Another thing that always struck me as odd was this. When I was in 7th grade, I thought I would change my image. I wanted a new haircut. Better clothes (not even flamboyant ones—just newer, “cooler” ones). The sort of things teens start to think about. When I was thinking about the new hairstyle (I’d had the pageboy/bowl cut for my whole life), I looked at pictures in magazines and the like. I would even cut the pictures out of magazines, etc., of possible styles to try. I kept them in a box & wondered what I would look like with my hair like the person in the picture. Honest. I never thought anything more carnal than that at that time. One day, the box vanished from my room. I asked my Mom what happened to the box. She “didn’t know.” She never addressed the box again, although I asked at least twice more because I was sure that she would have seen it (& that she would have known its purpose). Thus began the culture of silence and of ignoring my possible desires, even if, truly, at that moment my desire was merely to have a different look and not a snog.
14. You use that word “snog” a lot. Aren’t you from Northeast Tennessee originally?
A: Yes. My neighbors were from Britain, and some of their slang stuck with me through the years. Plus, there was PBS in my hometown, with Masterpiece Theatre and Monty Python. *sigh* I saw my first ladies’ breasts on Monty Python! I also saw my first same-sex kiss there, although that may have been in the movie The Sergeant, which my father was watching when I was a small boy, although that kiss seemed like an assault instead of a true kiss. My father changed the channel nonetheless. NEWAZ, some of my slang got co-opted by British neighbours and by telly, so sue me. I still say “y’all” though.
15. You’ve also traveled. Have you been bi abroad?
A: I’m bi wherever I am. That’s a most puzzling question.
16. I meant, have you…uh…done it in foreign countries?
A: Oh. Yes. Maybe it’s the Coriolis effect, but some things do go down the other way in the Southern hemisphere.
17. What do you mean by that?
A: I don’t think Kevin would want me to tell.
18. Um…okay…Does size matter? I mean, does a guy have to be well hung or a girl have to have large breasts?
A: Yeesh! What a question!
18a. Sorry…
A: I’ll answer, though. Not really, no. As I have said, I am a romantic at heart, so it is my emotional desire for a partner that is most fulfilling sexually. Besides, there are toys, tongues, and other things that can give you pleasures that a partner may not bring to the table physically on their own, but can cause your flesh to shudder with a little outside help and love. In fact, my longest relationship was with a man with a smallish penis who maybe hit my p-spot twice in 5 years, but could send me shuddering with love goosebumps everytime. He was also a bit tongue-tied, but I loved kissing him. I enjoyed sex with him because I loved him. Plus, he had magic hands.
19. Wow! If I weren’t asking, I would totally say TMI!
A: Can one truly have too much information?
19a. I don’t know, Ha! You asked me a question! Does that mean I get another one?
A: No, still twenty…and asking me if you win an extra just used up number 19 for you.
20. Oh, shit! Can I ask more questions in the future?
A: I suppose.
A: I have never been in any threeway. That’s not something that generally appeals to me. I prefer a strong, one-on-one bond with a single partner. That’s just me.
2. Have you ever cheated on a partner?
A: Other than my first times, when I was dating a man and a woman at the same time, no. I have kissed someone, but that’s all.
3. Has a partner ever cheated on you?
A: That may be fodder for future entries, but yes.
4. Have you ever wanted to “get married” or whatever with a partner?
A: Yes. Very much so, a couple of times.
5. Are you dating anyone now?
A: *cough* Why? Are you asking me out?
6. Umm…I’ll go to the next question…
A: Suit yourself.
6a. Hey! That wasn’t a question! & I’m trying to keep tabs this time!
A: Okay. You’re right; it wasn’t a question.
6b. What has been the most difficult part of being bi?
A: That is a difficult question to answer, because there are several answers. Continued prejudice or stereotypes about bisexuality is one thing. Not feeling like I can come out to the family I cherish is another.
7. October 11 is National Coming Out Day. Will you come out then? Do bisexuals even celebrate National Coming Out Day?
A: First, National Coming Out Day is for everyone of all sexualities to express themselves freely and not be ashamed of their sexual identity. It’s part of the Human Rights Campaign. Although I am not ashamed, I probably will not come out (again) to my family for a few reasons.
8. Such as?
A: As I have said before, I am selfish enough that I don’t want to miss out on their company, which could be strained, or even ended, if I were to come out at this point. Also, I won’t be near any of them. When I do tell them, wouldn’t it be better face to face than through some phone call or email or something detached and impersonal?
8a. I guess so…
A: Still, I plan on being active in NCOD celebrations in my community. I plan to speak at an event about coming out. I am not going to hide because I am afraid they’ll see, either.
9. What has been the worst part of not coming out to your family?
A: Not being able to share my absolute joy when I have been utterly in love or my utter sadness when that relationship ended.
10. Would you recommend coming out or staying in the closet?
A: Every situation and every individual is different, but I think hiding and being (somewhat) dishonest has sometimes colored my relations with my family. Thus, I would definitely advocate coming out if you felt the least bit comfortable and had a support system. What I have done is neither good nor bad nor worthy of emulation; it’s simply what I have done.
11. What do you mean “(somewhat) dishonest”?
A: Well, I have used the old trick of the generic “they” instead of “he” or “she” when I discussed relationships, when anyone ever wanted to hear about them at all, that is! Since I have never married, I bet there are some in my family that believe that I am still a virgin! Even when I have dated a woman, the discussion never was pursued when I brought it up. When I was living very happily with a man about whom I spoke at length, the idea that he was anything more than “my best bud” never seemed to register either. Don’t know whether that was because it was I was having “relations” out of wedlock or whether they never had any interest in me beyond superficialities anyway.
12. That sounds a little harsh. Do you resent your family?
A: Maybe I do a little, but I love them so very much too. It’s a catch-22 for me. I tend to be a person of great humor, but I admit that this does yet get to me, even after all these years.
13. How else has your family been weird about this?
A: Ooh! Some sort of analyst, eh? Hoping for transference, maybe? Well, there are a couple of key things that always have gotten to me in retrospect. For one thing, when I had my first orgasm, I was awake. I had no idea what was going on. I had been feeling pleasure, then I felt something coming out of my penis that was milky white. I panicked and screamed. My mother, a registered nurse, ran to see what was wrong and I explained the situation *cringes now*
“Did you have a wet dream?” She asked bluntly.
“No, mama. I wasn’t asleep. I wasn’t dreaming at all!”
She gave me a very brief rundown of what was going on. I asked her, “Why didn’t you or Dad tell me this before?”
“I expected you’d learn it from your friends or off the street.” Yes, she actually said that! She assured me that Dad would talk to me about it. I’ve still never had that convo with him, even almost 30 years later.
Another thing that always struck me as odd was this. When I was in 7th grade, I thought I would change my image. I wanted a new haircut. Better clothes (not even flamboyant ones—just newer, “cooler” ones). The sort of things teens start to think about. When I was thinking about the new hairstyle (I’d had the pageboy/bowl cut for my whole life), I looked at pictures in magazines and the like. I would even cut the pictures out of magazines, etc., of possible styles to try. I kept them in a box & wondered what I would look like with my hair like the person in the picture. Honest. I never thought anything more carnal than that at that time. One day, the box vanished from my room. I asked my Mom what happened to the box. She “didn’t know.” She never addressed the box again, although I asked at least twice more because I was sure that she would have seen it (& that she would have known its purpose). Thus began the culture of silence and of ignoring my possible desires, even if, truly, at that moment my desire was merely to have a different look and not a snog.
14. You use that word “snog” a lot. Aren’t you from Northeast Tennessee originally?
A: Yes. My neighbors were from Britain, and some of their slang stuck with me through the years. Plus, there was PBS in my hometown, with Masterpiece Theatre and Monty Python. *sigh* I saw my first ladies’ breasts on Monty Python! I also saw my first same-sex kiss there, although that may have been in the movie The Sergeant, which my father was watching when I was a small boy, although that kiss seemed like an assault instead of a true kiss. My father changed the channel nonetheless. NEWAZ, some of my slang got co-opted by British neighbours and by telly, so sue me. I still say “y’all” though.
15. You’ve also traveled. Have you been bi abroad?
A: I’m bi wherever I am. That’s a most puzzling question.
16. I meant, have you…uh…done it in foreign countries?
A: Oh. Yes. Maybe it’s the Coriolis effect, but some things do go down the other way in the Southern hemisphere.
17. What do you mean by that?
A: I don’t think Kevin would want me to tell.
18. Um…okay…Does size matter? I mean, does a guy have to be well hung or a girl have to have large breasts?
A: Yeesh! What a question!
18a. Sorry…
A: I’ll answer, though. Not really, no. As I have said, I am a romantic at heart, so it is my emotional desire for a partner that is most fulfilling sexually. Besides, there are toys, tongues, and other things that can give you pleasures that a partner may not bring to the table physically on their own, but can cause your flesh to shudder with a little outside help and love. In fact, my longest relationship was with a man with a smallish penis who maybe hit my p-spot twice in 5 years, but could send me shuddering with love goosebumps everytime. He was also a bit tongue-tied, but I loved kissing him. I enjoyed sex with him because I loved him. Plus, he had magic hands.
19. Wow! If I weren’t asking, I would totally say TMI!
A: Can one truly have too much information?
19a. I don’t know, Ha! You asked me a question! Does that mean I get another one?
A: No, still twenty…and asking me if you win an extra just used up number 19 for you.
20. Oh, shit! Can I ask more questions in the future?
A: I suppose.
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