Jared’s* question came during a sex party a few months ago, after some steamy foreplay organically led to this discussion: “Can I fuck you now?”
It caught me off guard, but not in an unpleasant way. Men had asked me this question before, and I was half expecting to decline, like I usually did. But I’d been fantasizing about having sex with him for months. This was opportunity knocking.
“It’s okay if you don’t want to,” Jared continued, directing this at both me and my husband, Paul. “But it seems like the logical next step here.”
It was. “Are you okay with that?” I asked Paul. He nodded reassuringly, excited to watch me take this new step. I smiled. “Then, yes. Let’s give it a try.”
So we did. Jared became the second man I’ve ever had intercourse with, signifying a change I never thought would come: an interest in sleeping with men. Keep reading »
Let me tell you a story about “bi invisibility.” A few years ago, at my first full-time job – which, I should clarify, was at an LGBT nonprofit organization – I was chatting with a gay male co-worker about a conversation he had with an acquaintance of ours. Apparently I had come up in their conversation, and he had referred to me as “straight.” As in “heterosexual.” I don’t know where the rest of the story was going, because I stopped my colleague right there.
“Actually,” I interjected, “I’m not straight.”
He seemed genuinely baffled. “You’re not?”
“Well … no. I can see why you thought I was, but I’m not. I’m bisexual.”
His eyes widened and he smiled. It was like a light bulb had gone off in his head and everything suddenly made sense. Meanwhile, I walked back to my cubicle, shocked that, at an LGBT organization, anyone would assume that anyone else was straight. It surprised me that, in a space where identity politics and queer issues were discussed regularly, being in a relationship with a man would automatically signify me as a hetero. I suddenly realized that my identity as a bi woman would always be invisible. I would always be invisible. That is, unless I found a way to combat that invisibility. Keep reading »
“The way I would choose to identify myself wouldn’t be gay. I’ve been attracted mostly to ‘shes’ but I’ve been with many people and I’m open to love wherever it can be found. I think a lot of people are projecting their own troubles and fears concerning sexuality onto those around them, and it does result in the perpetuation of a lot of hateful notions. As long as I can remember, I’ve felt really horrified watching those dynamics play out. It really hurts and divides us all, and in the end, so much of the human experience is shared, so we only end up hating and fearing our own damn selves.”
– Every time I read an interview with “The Perks Of Being A Wallflower” star Ezra Miller, I think to myself, Thank God I didn’t meet you when I was 16 because I would be So. Far. Gone. [The Daily Beast]
Androgyny is in. From supermodel Andrej Pejic to gender-neutral parenting articles, the media can’t get enough of us non-binary (“boy” or “girl”) folks lately.
But is not identifying as male or female really about androgyny? Is being elsewhere on the gender spectrum the same as being gender neutral? I look at pictures of Pejic and I wonder if I’m missing something everyone else sees. It’s hard to recognize androgyny (showing characteristics of both sexes) in a person walking down the street in five-inch heels, short shorts, and a flowing top, blonde locks perfectly coiffed Marilyn Monroe-style. The same is true for us average non-binary folks. Many of us identify, like Pejic, as neither male nor female, yet our gender presentation is not neutral either. Trying to get us into that box takes a lot of squeezing, tugging, and tucking.
Keep reading »
“I’m queer. I have a lot of really wonderful friends who are of very different sexes and genders. I am very much in love with no one in particular. I’ve been trying to figure out relationships, you know? I don’t know if it’s responsible for kids of my age to be so aggressively pursuing monogamous binds, because I don’t think we’re ready for them. The romanticism within our culture dictates that that’s what you’re supposed to be looking for. Then [when] we find what we think is love — even if it is love — we do not yet have the tools. I do feel that it’s possible to be at this age unintentionally hurtful, just by being irresponsible — which is fine. I’m super down with being irresponsible. I’m just trying to make sure my lack of responsibility no longer hurts people. That’s where I’m at in the boyfriend/girlfriend/zefriend type of question.”
One thing I love about actor Ezra Miller — who blew my mind in “We Need To Talk About Kevin” — is that he’s such a lucid stoner. And at such a young age! This statement — given to Out magazine – is really quite smart and thoughtful, and it’s awesome to see a 19-year-old dude be so mindful of the way his innate youthful selfishness affects others. If only the 30-something dudes I find myself dating would do the same! Miller doesn’t get any deeper into explaining his “queerness,” but it seems like he’s disinterested in defining his sexuality on narrow terms. Good for him! [Out]