Half In The Closet

I don’t tell people I’m bisexual for the same reason I don’t dress like a slut anymore; I don’t need, or want the kind of attention it gets me. There’s a part of me that wants to stay half in the closet like I always have and part of me that wants to shout at the rest of the world that still doesn’t get it, “WE’RE NOT JUST GREEDY SLUTS THAT WANT TO HAVE SEX WITH ALL THE PEOPLE!” Look, every group has their deviants, and I’m not saying there aren’t slutty bisexuals, sure there are–just like there are slutty straight people, slutty lesbians, slutty gays … Ok the last one might be redundant. Come on, gays totally want to have sex with ALL the guys. But I digress. We’re here to talk about why I don’t talk about being bisexual. 

Girls Night

It all happened one fateful night. I had just broken up with the girl I had been dating for the last couple of months when I got a call from a friend. She’s having boyfriend troubles and needs a girls night, so we meet up for drinks at a bar about halfway between our places. It’s a Wednesday night and the place is the perfect amount of slow. We get our first round and find ourselves a spot on a couch in the corner of the lounge area.

I’m drinking a vodka soda because that’s how I roll and she’s drinking white wine because she’s white and she’s about to start whining. She wastes no time telling me how unhappy she is with her live-in boyfriend. She goes on for a while about how all they do is fight or not talk at all but she doesn’t know how to end it. After she finishes lamenting the impending end of her 3 year relationship–and  her second glass of wine–she then asks me about my love life. “I’m sorry I’m totally dominating the conversation, let’s talk about something else. How are you? How’s your girlfriend?”

“We broke up,” I say matter-of-factly. I’m not sure if saying we broke up is as accurate as saying I ghosted the relationship after the lesbian refused to go bowling one night–what kind of lesbian refuses to go bowling? The worst kind of lesbian, that’s what kind. But that’s not the point here. I’m single again. When I said that, the energy between us shifted and I started getting nervous.

“I’ve always wondered if I could date a woman,” she says. Here we go. “I’ve always been attracted to girls.” She tells me about one of her friends she always makes out with when they’re drunk. “But we’ve never had sex. We only kiss, but I’ve kind of always wondered what it’s like to go down on a girl.” She’s leaning in more. Her eyes widened and her voice got a little higher. She’s even sitting cuter, she pulled her feet up on the couch next to her and she tilts her head as she talks to me. She’s a tiny thing. A petite girl-next-door type, but with huge boobs. She’s adorable and I think she’s coming on to me. But she’s straight. She is a straight girl who sometimes makes out with her friend when she’s drunk and that’s not how I roll. I do not want to be her new drunk make out friend. I want a relationship.

“Uh, yeah,” I muttered. “I mean if you think about it, maybe you should explore that.” And I promise you I didn’t mean with me. As cute as she was, I had her strictly in the straight friend zone. “One day, when I get married, whether that be to a man or a woman, I’ll have no regrets,” I explain. “I’ll never wonder what it’s like to be with the other sex or if I missed out on something.” I share with her my deep belief that a lot of relationships experience infidelity or come to an end because someone in the relationship didn’t explore their sexuality and can’t get past wondering what else is out there. Too many people still think they’ll have to announce themselves as gay to the world if they have even one same sex encounter and it’s just not like that.

Screw You, Katy Perry

It took me years of exploring my sexual identity to admit to myself, let alone anyone else that I’m bisexual. I’m still learning to articulate bisexuality in some intelligent way without being treated like some kind of freak because I enjoy both boy parts and girl parts. Just because I am attracted to both sexes doesn’t automatically mean I’m attracted to you. Or your partner. I am not your experiment. Find yourself some other random bi-curious hookup, I am not that person. I know what I want, and part of that is wanting to be with someone who also knows what they want, not someone still in the flighty, figuring-it-out stage.

Part of the problem at this point was that Katy Perry’s “I Kissed A Girl” had made straight girls making out for fun and attention mainstream and less slutty. Straight girls with boyfriends, no less. So the whole time my friend is leaning in, batting her eyes and alternating between licking her lips and sipping her wine, all I can think is Katy Perry, you bitch. This girl wants to live out a damn pop song with me and I know we’re not on the same level. This would ruin our friendship.

The Proposition

We’re finishing our third round. “Do you wanna get out of here?” she asks. She got so brave, drink in hand.

“Uhh, sure. You ok to drive?” I reply.

“No, take me back to your place,” she says. But I hear I’m cur-i-ous for you …

“We’re closer to your place. I can drive you home,” I offer.

“No, my boyfriend’s there. I wanna stay with you.” You’re my experimental game …

“You know what? I don’t think I should take you home. I just got out of a relationship. You’re drunk. If you stay over something could happen, and I don’t want things to get weird between us. Why don’t I just drop you off at home?” Her face drops. She’s actually pouting.

“You don’t want to hook up with me?” She looks like she’s about to cry and I swear she said, “Don’t you think I’m pretty?” Holy shit this is manipulative.

“Of course I do!” Suddenly I’m consoling her.

“Then why don’t you want to hook up with me?” Oh my god this is the worst. Girls do this to guys all the time and they fall for it.

“Because … I don’t want to ruin our friendship … Let me just take you home,” I plead one more time.

“Please,” she begs me. “I can’t deal with him right now. Just take me to your place and we can just go to sleep,” and I think you know what, it’s just late enough and she’s just drunk enough that she’s probably just going to pass out when we get there anyway. So fine, I take her to my place.

The Encounter

We walk in and she marches straight into my room and makes herself comfortable. Doesn’t even pretend to respect my boundaries and offer to sleep on the couch. She starts taking off her clothes. I offer her something to sleep in as she’s already down to her bra and panties and she answers by kissing me. Not softly, gently or apprehensively. Boldly, brazenly, passionately kissing me. It’s not what good girls do … Shut the fuck up, Katy Perry.

It went down that night. She did. I did. It all went down that night. She clearly watches too much straight porn and needed a little more understanding of real life girl-on-girl action, but we’ll work on that. That was a good first run. We got up early the next morning so I could get her back to her car, so she could get back to her boyfriend. My head gets so confused … 

She gives me a sweet little kiss on the lips before she hops out of my car, “I had fun last night,” she says. “I’ll text you later.”

“Yeah me, too,” I smile back at her. And I drive off with that stupid grin on my face the whole way back home, and for the rest of the day.

I start wondering what we should do when I see her next. I wonder if she’s been to that french bistro in Los Feliz. I thought. I think she’ll like it, I’ll take her there. Last night I didn’t even want to take her home, and now my thoughts are flooded with her. This could work. She’s a great girl. I can totally see a future with her. The next day she text me. My heart skipped a beat and I completely lit up seeing her name pop up on my phone. What’s it gonna say? ‘Thinking about you’ or ‘When can I see you again?’ It didn’t say either of those things. When I opened the text, it read “Please don’t tell my boyfriend.” My heart sank.

“I won’t,” I replied. Defeated. Dejected. Fuck him. And fuck her. And fuck Katy Perry, too. This is why I don’t let my straight friends do this to me. Don’t kiss me. I’m not your experiment. My feelings and my bisexuality are real, not some fantasy for you live out so you can turn your next boyfriend on with the story. Go play with someone else’s emotions. Suddenly, I missed my ex girlfriend. Suddenly going bowling didn’t seem so important.

Venti Iced Soy Apology

In the months following the encounter, I watched via Facebook as my friend and her boyfriend tried and failed to work things out. We never had another girls night. We actually didn’t speak for years. Then one day we met for coffee, but we never talked about the night we hooked up. Without saying it, that coffee was her apology and my forgiveness and that was it. More years have passed and I haven’t seen her again. I still miss our friendship, but I’m also grateful for that lesson. Trust your gut. And don’t sleep with your friends you stupid idiot. She’s married now, to a man. And she hopefully has no unanswered questions and no regrets. Personally, I’m still working on that.


One thought on “Half In The Closet

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s