Its Hard Work Being Bi
Be patient. It's late and I'm ranting. This'll be a disjointed read, but a fun one.
She calls me almost every weekend, and she is drunk when she does it, but she does it nonetheless. And what does that drunk dial mean when you and I make it? I'll tell you what it means. It means we're drunk, which means we're horny, which means we want to fuck the way we want in the most primal part of the brain without all that nasty social propriety that gets in the way during sober time, like up against a wall in public fully clothed and violently in thigh high stockings with our hair caught in the popcorn machine. I've been comfortably bi for years, but I remember what it was like to feel ashamed by my most primal desires, so I try not to pass judgment upon those who do. Liza is one of these girls, and I've been inordinately patient with her, but I'm beginning to wonder just whether or not I should be messing with creatures who don't have balls.
Her name really is Liza; that's not a pseudonym. She started emailing me a few years ago, writing the usual, "Bunny, I want to explore girls, and I want you to be my first." I didn't mind of course, can't get enough of that, and though I've never been able to make it happen with this Liza, I fully intended to should I ever be in the same city. That's one thing I'm not complaining about. It's nice to be the gateway dyke.
I used to think lesbians had it easy. They didn't have to deal with men. I've come to the conclusion by putting my bi self out there, being openly and ragingly bisexual above all things characteristically, that the homosexual journey through life is road littered with as many obstacles and perils as the hetero highway. For every hot girl sex session, I get a dozen seemingly interested ones contact me, engage me and then cancel when we get serious about it. Or they show and they're not who they say they are.
The added hetero side of this mess slays me. I like to fuck women, but I wholeheartedly worship men, their quirks, their smells, their behaviors. Why I'd even like to marry one of them someday. Problem is, it is nearly impossible to be honest about my sexuality and not attract the sorts that are obsessed with it. And they're not really honest about the obsession, because...they're men. They're not sexually truthful to themselves. They really do think I'm so "smart," "different" and "intelligent," and they're sure they want to date me and get to know me better, possibly have babies with me and all that wonderfulness. Upon date three or so, their true intent becomes apparent, and its "so why don't we fuck all these friends of yours." I'm not going to lie, this right here, sucks, and it's the one thing that has kept my sex life off this blog as of late through negative reinforcement. You've gotten cute dog stories instead of sex because I can't stand being dated like this. It just plain hurts.
But I thought Liza was promising. She wasn't spinning love to get sex, and she didn't seem as flaky as the garden-variety femailers. She was rather Sapphic in nature, liked arts, liked my writing (not that it's a requisite, but my self esteem is so low that if you want to stroke it, I automatically like you). She was brunette and lithe and dying to, or so she said, "explore" me, which was fine by me, so long as I got to explore her back. I am no rocket surgeon, but I can deduce that in the case of Liza, "explore" meant "perform cunnilingus." The icing on the cake was that she was of the same nationality and same visage as the wild little lesbo that took my girlginity on a dorm room bed all those years ago. I wanted to go back, way back to when girl sex wasn't so...soulless, and I wanted to go there with Liza.
So Liza and I were going to be in the same city, and I called to tell her this. You'll be surprised to know that Liza, the girl who calls me when she's drunk, the girl who wants to "explore" my clit, the girl who wants me to righteously take her girlginity flaked. Shocking, I know.
"I don't think it's a good idea. This is just too...real," she said.
Of course its real. It's always real, whether you're drunk or sober. Bi is real, but if you don't have the balls to face it, you'll do what Liza did later that night, drunk in a bar, with no more social propriety bearing down upon her lithe frame--you'll sink into tequila and your most primal parts. You'll pick up your phone and whisper unsweet nothings into it, thinking of yourself in thigh high stockings without actually being in them.
If you're Liza, you'll get my voicemail instead of my voice.
Comments
What an idiot. I guess some people are too scared of their sexuality to get what they want. Sad really.
Posted by: lil' bit ![[TypeKey Profile Page]](http://www.thebunnyblog.com/nav-commenters.gif)
at September 29, 2006 08:54 AM
After about a year of reading I finally feel compelled to comment. A) Bunny, I absolutely adore your writing, girlsex or no girlsex. B) Does girlsex always involve tequilla? I just recently lost my girlginity, in front of an audience nonetheless; tequilla was very much a catalyst in that social situation. And finally C) how can a girl go about getting MORE girlsex?
Toodles,
Tits
Posted by: Miss Caryn at September 29, 2006 08:56 AM
This cuts another way... Nothing's worse than getting blazed with two girls who claim to be bi and have them tease you with the threesome for hours only to chickenshit out at the last second, when they realize you're going to probably ask them to do a little more than make out...
Posted by: PhilaLawyer at September 29, 2006 09:09 AM
So another woman flaked out on ya, huh? Well, don't feel sad. Welcome to the everyday reality of the heterosexual male. Girls are just frustrating by nature more often than not. They don't know what the hell they want, and it shows. For every one that goes for it there's 20 who "change their mind" at the last second.
"The hell with her" is a phrase heard often from my lips. You are not alone.
Posted by: Leroy77 at September 29, 2006 09:21 AM
I never thought about it, but it seems that bi girls would have a harder time than us lesbians what w/ the bi-groupie guys and stuff. I'm sorry that women blow chunks. Your writing is amazing by the way
Posted by: connie at September 29, 2006 09:52 AM
Wait, does this mean that I'm Liza?
Posted by: KungFu Mike at September 29, 2006 05:24 PM
I can relate. I managed to shrug it off the first couple times, but these situations get very old very quickly. By the way, did you do that Ramona Quimby graphic yourself? If so, then you are an artistic genius and I am green with envy at your talent. If you didn't do it, I'm still green with envy at your talent anyway.
Posted by: gravyboat at September 29, 2006 05:27 PM
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