Secret Sexuality : Bi but Closeted

I am a lot of things: schizo-affective, a graduate student, a minority female....and I'm bisexual. But not out. Instead, I exist in sexuality limbo, floating half way between the Straight world and the Gay world, a ghost, an apparition, there but invisible.

Today, I watched an adult video with a large breasted woman and a man. It was not the man that had me going into conniptions---it was the woman. It has always been this way...since I was in high school. The man is my boyfriend, the woman in the film is the one who gets me to climax. I am not ashamed at all, just afraid to tell anyone. I am afraid my female friends will become concerned that I want them. I am more afraid that one particular friend will realize that I really honestly do want her, that it may be a sort of love in fact, but I don't have to worry about that since I intend to keep my mouth shut.

I am bi but at the moment live a Straight life. No woman has taken me in her arms yet. I guess I didn't really choose a Straight life, I am just defaulted to a Straight life because women haven't asked me out (well, except one, but she is kind of not my type). I have always lived a Straight life---at least in terms of who I sleep with. However, when I am alone in my bedroom, the adult video comes out and it is the only breath of sweet release I get---the sight of the voluptuous female body thrills me, makes me yearn for a Gay life I have never known, and finally, induces the throes of pleasure that momentarily put my yearning to rest.

I have a boyfriend, a religious conservative man who prays every day and comes from a country where Gay is a Western "invention," something that is prohibited, allegedly non-existant, and totally taboo. I really do not know what has kept us together these last three months. It might be his kindness or the fact that he is such a good cook. I like that I am not expected to wash dishes or cook his meals. I like that the only place I have to play a female role is in the bedroom. I always thought this was a bit ironic, since in his country of origin, the female is always washing dishes, cooking, raising children, etc....

I like the freedom he gives me. Except of course, the freedom to be with a woman. I don't know what I expect---I want to be courted by a woman but I don't frequent any gay clubs or attend gay community events. I guess I have the faulty belief that a woman can see past my lipstick-colored lips, my exaggerated femininity, and my hand which holds a man's hand, and see the bisexual inside that desires a woman with thick hips to hold and an intelligent mind to hold my interest.

Ah well, I'll keep looking for signs, like a neon shirt that says "GAY" on a female co-ed on campus. Until then, I'll stick to my movies. *Confused sigh...

On Summer Romance

I have not been blogging as much as I would like because I have been sitting by the phone like a puppy-eyed virgin waiting for this new guy to text me.

I went into this new romance knowing it was going to be a very temporary situation. Next month I enter the graduate program and all my classes are scheduled for the evenings. Evenings are the only time he is free from work.

He is not particularly serious about me either. I can respect that he was honest to me about the fact that he does not want a commitment. We are both setting boundaries that state we have to be honest if we are dating somebody else, but there is no rule that says we cannot date somebody else; we just have to admit to it. I would honestly prefer a monogamous relationship that lasts one month and then we go our separate ways. He would prefer a casual dating scenario that lasts indefinitely.

I guess we will see what happens. I am the clingy type. Yes, I know it is not healthy. I never had a father so my model for male-female attachment is screwy. I am always afraid of being abandoned. I place too much emphasis on monogamous sex being the center piece of a serious relationship. I am a little obsessed with the sex. I feel empty and anxious if I have not had sex with my significant other in a day. I need constant re-affirmation of his desire for me. I do not particularly care if he likes me as a person, but it is vital that he physically yearns for my body, and only my body.

I have taken great care to work on the part of me that grew up in a dysfunctional extended family situation. Still, I have attachment anxiety from early loss in my childhood. I have never even had a relationship that lasted more than a year. Either I pick a guy who is a total jerk or else I wind up running away because I made a mountain out of a mole-hill.

Alas, I, as a human, am doomed to this vicious cycle of love and heart break. This guy does not want a relationship so I must not bond too deeply with him. I must keep him in the periphery of my life so that he does not hurt me too deeply. Maybe one day I will meet a man or woman who will see every part of my soul and body and will still want to be with me every day for a long time.

I have put out to the world that I am bisexual. I would honestly prefer to have a female because I am so attracted to their bodies and their attitudes about life and love. I have not yet been asked out by a woman. Sometimes I see a woman with another woman and I wonder how they ever opened up to each other about wanting a lesbian relationship.

This guy does not know I am bi. I have decided not to tell, ever since the last guy decided because I am attracted to women that I would consent to a threesome with him and some random woman. I do not like having my sexuality manipulated. It is there, but it is not something that can be folded like origami in somebody else's hands. Maybe one day, I will meet an open-minded lady who is open and extroverted.

I still want to know how women know other women are available. I am either totally unattractive to only one gender (women) or I miss all the signs. :(  For the record, I get told a lot that I am "pretty" and "cute" and have "big boobs" by people who see my profile picture on myspace, so it is likely not a physical deformity but rather an attitude issue I have or something, I dunno. Okay, I am done psycho-analyzing myself. Feel free to psycho-analyze me in the comments! Just please be tactful! :)

Anger No More

No more bitching about how I'm fat and expected to be thin. That's my early new year's resolution. I see a common pattern on this little blog: I don't like my body and I don't like other people's opinion about my body. None of that is positive!

From now on I'll try to be more accepting about myself and others.

Okay, maybe later.



Why is that places like Myspace are magnets for men who just want to cruise through your photo album and make perverted comments about your body? That's been my experience anyways. I had to delete a comment today by some guy I barely "friended", some gibberish about my big breasts, what he'd like to do, that sort of thing. The other week I had a guy asking if I would do certain things with him, things a little too lurid to describe here. Am I foolish for keeping my photo up? Maybe. I have some romantic notion that I'll stumble on the profile of a witty, extroverted lesbian and we go on to have a love affair to end all love affairs. I am so naive.

United Student Pride accepted my request to join their organization on my college campus! I am thrilled to be out of the closet on campus, because that is where the most beautiful and intelligent women are! I stated I was bisexual, because that is what I feel I am, though sometimes I'll be on one end of the Kinsey scale and other times I'll swing to the other end. Yet, I always end up in bed with an adult video, watching the pretty porn starlet, not the male stud, but the buxom babe, and it's her body that shoots me into outer-space, no matter how sincerely I might believe at that moment that my passion for women is just a phase. But now I'm getting all lurid, so I'll end here.

Making The Jump: One Foot Outta the Closet

Classes at the University begin this month and I finally did what I've been mulling about for the last two months: I requested to join the United Student Pride club, an LGBT club for lesbians, gays, bisexuals, transgendered, and transsexuals.

I knew eventually I'd have to own up to my physical and emotional attraction to females, I just postponed it by, oh, about 15 years. I've known since I was 13, when I was sleeping over at my best friend's house and I woke up aroused beside her. I looked at her and realized I wanted to caress her face and run my hand up her thigh and cradle her breasts in my hand. It was such a strong impulse I leaped out of bed and run around the house like a hyper cat. I suddenly felt free, real, sincere, eager, and scared. That was the first time I fell in love. Nothing came of it, we got into fights and we stopped talking. Then, men began to show a pushy interest in me and I let myself get pushed into relationship after relationship with men I was not attracted to. I had always watched the gay pride movement out of the corner of my eye, letting others do the hard work, while I hid in my bedroom masturbating to the pretty busty women of Swank films, and wishing I had the nerve to admit what I was.

I think if I had come out sooner I would have found a female lover by now, somebody that I really mesh well with. I also think I would have a greater sense of self and self-respect, since I would have been fighting for equality alongside my peers. I will always regret not coming out sooner, but the years flew by and I can't do anything about those years anymore.

Last month I attended the funeral of my 24 year old cousin who committed suicide June 25th. I miss him terribly but I vow not to let his life go out in vain. I will do what I must to prove that life is worth living. I will be true to myself and to others and not live a life of secrets, regrets, and shame.

Coming out to my University is just the first step. I also have to be honest about being a shizo-affective, a person who suffers from the biological disease of paranoid schizophrenia and bipolar disorder. Previously, I hid it from everybody but the people I already knew had a similar diagnosis. I can no longer pretend to be what I wanted to be: a straight girl with a"normal" mind. I have to be honest with others, even if that means losing some of them in the process.

And no, being crazy doesn't have anything to do with being a bisexual. I just got a colorful combination of genes when I was conceived.

Now I fit into nearly every minority out there: a Mexican-East Indian American mixed race, bisexual, schizo-affective, female from a low socio-economic area. The US consensus takers must be really frustrated with me, trying to pin down all the labels that apply!

Just writing this makes me feel less remorseful for my life of secrets.

Confessions of a Closet Bisexual

What do I have to lose, I did state I was a confessional writer.

She was a size 2, taller than me, with a deep voice, and a model's open, blank face. We were in British literature together and when she approached me to ask what we did the day she missed class, I felt something flutter out of her, like a question mark hanging in the air.

I told her what we did, glancing away, feeling sheepishly uncomfortable. I couldn't gauge why she was asking me, of all people, I wasn't part of her clique, those girls who sit clustered together, their skinny bodies, their effortless hair, the brand name jeans, and their sparkling cell phone covers that glittered in their hands while they texted. They were like upper class posh girls, barely 20, and there I was, age 28, a size 14 and only five feet tall, dressed in thrift store khakis and a low cut thrift store tank top, with ratty blue walking shoes, and the only thing to my name the A grade I got on my exam.

I looked around, we were alone in the room. She began to talk to me, telling me about her modeling shoot. At first I was a little put off, I am sort of anti-fashion, as you might guess, but I didn't want to brush her off or appear too jealous so I asked her how it went and who was she modeling for. We chatted, I let her go on and on about her shoot, the exact position of the male model, the cost of the jewelry they posed her in (40,000 dollars worth of jewelry), and how much money she made.

This girl caught me totally off guard, one minute I was analyzing Mary Shelley's Frankenstein in my journal, the next I'm sitting next to a real-life model queen describing her glamorous life. I figured she wanted to brag to somebody, but there was a weird undercurrent I was getting. She walked over to my desk and stood behind me, peering at my class notes. She was standing close enough for me to smell her shower freshness. She asked me to tell her what she'd missed and she kept tiptoeing closer, until her black designer t-shirt caressed my shoulder. I was suddenly turned on. OHhhhh, I realized, you're a tomboy. Then students entered the classroom, glanced at us, me sitting with the model leaning over my shoulder, and the model girl fled back to her seat. The moment was ruined. At the time, I didn't get what exactly that moment was, but I felt a deep conviction that the model girl had been enjoying her time alone with me, and vice versa.

For the rest of the class we kept throwing discrete looks at each other. I glanced at her skinny arms to make sure she didn't have a severe eating disorder, she glanced at my wrist tattoos. She didn't speak to anybody else when everybody else took their seats, and whatever energy she had displayed with me had become muted into a silent, brooding stare aimed mostly at her desk.

I might have approached the model girl on my own the next day, except my friend, a busty linguistics major like myself, was curious about how my Arabic class was going, and I had turned my attention to my friend, as I had a secret crush on her with her blue eyes and long dirty blonde hair, and those oversized t-shirts that minimized her assets. Then class ended last week, and I can still feel that vibe the model girl gave off when it was just the two of us, so close.

I know what you're thinking, why would a pretty model want me? It's just attraction, sometimes to a body, sometimes to a face, sometimes to a mind. You can't control who you become attracted to, and I felt her being drawn to me for whatever reason (I'm guessing my mind, as I am too plump).

Now that I'm waiting for my British literature grade to be posted, my thoughts keep turning back to her, to her deep, guttural voice and clear skin. Will I ever see her again? If I do, would I have the courage to spark a friendship? Maybe exchange email addresses?

Being a closet bisexual is difficult. The only time I came on to a girl I was soundly rejected. She was not into me, at all. I felt that sting for years to the point where it prevented me from coming out. It seemed like a lot of hassle just to get rejected by the girl I liked.

I still haven't had sex with a female. I'd like to, it's the only thought that excites me, men barely excite me, and they usually ruin my arousal by acting like assholes, but I'm too shy. I'm only an exhibitionist online. In real life, I'm studious, introverted, and afraid of rejection.

I tried to come out to my ex-boyfriend, not the one I just broke up with, but one from a long time ago who I've kept in contact with for many years, but he wouldn't have it. He kept changing the subject.  I love him dearly, but it's this model girl who invades my thoughts all the time. Wherever she is, I want her back.