The Curse Of Being Bisexual

In this age of the internet, folks have become much more aware and sensitive to people, their various identities and differences, which is a beautiful thing. It wasn’t that long ago, when life wasn’t like this. I’m just about old enough to remember a very real time when, if there was even a rumor that you were g-a-y, it was complete social suicide and could even lead to your personal safety being threatened. The times have thankfully changed, for the most part. Of course, this is being said as a resident of Portland, in which we all enjoy a lovely bubble of acceptance sadly still not available in other parts of this world. A bubble I, for one, do not take for granted by any means. This town has changed so much in the last few years, but one of the things that has remained is you can be you here, and you will be accepted. This is why, for the first time in my life, I am going to discuss my sexuality and its unique challenges publicly. I am a bisexual female and being one is really fucking hard.

It’s Not A Phase

Many people view bisexuality as some sort of stepping stone to fully coming out as gay. I know this is even more of a stigma for males. Women struggle with it, too. By nature, females are more fluid with their sexuality than men. Therefore, to call yourself "bisexual" can be viewed as someone just being sexually adventurous, trying to garner attention or part of self-discovery. People say bisexuality is a myth. I am living proof it is not. I fuck women, but I am not gay. There is something particularly painful about growing up and knowing that you’re different than the other kids. Knowing that if they knew your secret, they’d probably not want to be your friend anymore and they most definitely won’t understand it. There’s also a lot of self-searching that comes along with it. Am I gay? I spent a lot of my adolescence wondering if I was going to turn into a lesbian one day—like a caterpillar becoming a butterfly. It never happened. I still liked guys...A LOT. I also sorta liked girls, too. If trying to understand a bisexual seems confusing to you, try actually being one. For most of my life, I just decided I was weird and left it at that.

Trying To Fit In

Being bisexual leaves you in a sort of limbo. You’re not gay enough to hang with the gays and you’re not straight enough to fit in with the breeders. You can’t tell your straight girlfriends that you are bi, because then they’ll think you’re looking at them in that way and nothing will ever be the same. The gay community will accept you with open arms, until you decide to have a boyfriend—then, you don’t belong anymore. A lot of people will accuse you of calling yourself bisexual for "attention." Like the Beckys who make out with each other at douchey parties for the Coors Lite-guzzling bro’s attention. It’s fetishized, but being actually accepted is near impossible. No one understands it, and let’s be honest, you don’t even fully understand it yourself. You like what you like and it comes in many different forms. There is no rhyme or reason. I actually sort of envy people with a self-described "type." It must make things so much easier.

Male Fragility

I’ll try not to write a novel here on this subject, but the male ego is a very real thing. I love men—being with them, having them as a partner and fucking them. One thing I’ve learned about most, is that they are very insecure and they hide this insecurity in peculiar ways. They’re quick to call any woman "crazy" when they are emotional, yet hide the fact that they have overblown egos and have little-to-no interest in learning how to please their female partners—emotionally or sexually. That’s not all dudes, of course. However, stereotypes exist for a reason. I have never had a male partner who wasn’t threatened by my bisexuality. I truly believe this is because men are terrified of understanding a woman’s body and what gets us off, and the thought of us with someone with better knowledge of the parts makes their blood run cold. For whatever reason, the subtle nuances of the clitoris seems to baffle those who don’t have one and they are too proud to ask how to handle it or take direction. Perhaps porn plays a large part in this, where men believe women scream with orgasm the minute they enter them and we’re all cock-hungry whores. If that’s true, then they should be experts on the ins and outs of vagina, based on all the girl-on-girl porn they’re watching (but not taking notes on). When I date someone, I believe in honesty. This means disclosing to my partner who I am. When I tell a man I would like to be in a relationship with that I have had female partners too, I can literally see the gears turning. They are so threatened that they won’t be good enough, it almost always ruins everything. When I have a female partner, same thing. They are convinced I’ll have a literal void I’ll need filling. Women just tend to get in their heads too much and give up. Men think of it differently—they tend to see it as an opportunity, which brings me to the next problem.

Threesomes

I have never not had a male partner not only ask, but also feel it was their right, to have a threesome, when they are in a relationship with me. Here’s the thing: threesomes aren’t my bag. I’ve never been a surf-and-turf kind of gal. I’ve done it, and I’ve always felt like it was better on paper, than reality. This isn’t just when I’m in relationships. When I’m single—which I find myself a lot—I don’t like threesomes then, either. They are sloppy, awkward and frankly unsanitary. I actually don’t want a dick shoved in my mouth after its been deep inside someone’s vagina. My fantasy is monogamy. A person that truly knows me, so we can get off together and it would be familiar, comfortable and intimate. It may be boring, but that’s what I’m into. I want to be able to masturbate in front of my partner and not be shy. I want to have a quickie with them and they know exactly what buttons to push to make that happen. I want to get weird with them, with no judgment. A guest star has no place in this fantasy for me. They feel as if they are being personally robbed, if I don’t agree to do it, while the anger and resentment build.

Frankly, it usually leads to the end of our relationship, because I don’t want to invite someone else in our bed. The last few relationships I’ve had have ended over this and it breaks my heart. I could have kept them if I had agreed, but at what cost? When I’m with women, it’s different. They don’t want threesomes, but they never fully feel like you’re "all in," because you like men, too. They always feel like they aren’t enough and you need a cock in your life. I’ve never had a relationship with a woman last, because of the inherent feeling of sexual inadequacy—even though all I care about is being loved. You must want to fuck everyone. People who aren’t bisexual assume that I want to fuck everyone, when the truth couldn’t be further from that. I’m attracted to a very small percent of the population. It’s hard to explain to my partners that I don’t want to fuck my friends. Yes, they’re attractive, but I’m not sexually interested in them. Also, my coworkers. Or my boss. Or my roommate. Just because you’re attracted to both sexes doesn’t mean you want to have sex with everyone. I feel as if bisexuals carry the stigma of "hypersexual," which is a completely different game. Dating is not "easier" and certainly not less complicated. Truth be told, I find it easier most times to just be alone. Vibrators don’t ask questions. I like what I like. There is no rhyme or reason.

Solitude

The biggest takeaway of this is that I am lonely. I believe others in this boat are lonely as well. Bisexuality is not the free ride, sexually open journey people think it is. It is a difficult road to travel. I feel as if I can’t have a successful relationship with a man or a woman. I feel as if I’m destined to be alone forever. No one will ever be cool with my orientation. I like a big, fat cock. I also love to caress a clitoris in a way no one has ever taken the time or cared to do. I love a beautiful woman’s breasts, nipples and plump ass. I love a man’s broad shoulders and square jaw. I love the way a man smells completely different from a woman and I’m intoxicated by both. If this seems confusing to you, imagine living it. I am a bisexual female. I do not fully understand my sexuality, but there is a pretty good chance I may want to fuck you.