Am I Bi-Sexual or Just Really Nice?
How I came to terms with my sexuality, all with a smile.
You know that scene in Fast Times At Ridgemont High, the one where Phoebe Cates steps out of the pool in her red bikini and takes off her top in slow motion? That was the first time I wondered if I liked boys and girls.
Phoebe Cates was my gateway girl.
It wasn’t until my senior year in high school that I was “approached” by a woman. The details are fuzzy, but I was at a restaurant with several other girls and the waitress — stunningly beautiful — left a message on my receipt with her number and some hearts. Immediately, I demanded my friends turn over their receipts to see if they received the same message.
Nope. Only me.
I was stunned. They giggled and congratulated me. They didn’t make fun of me because, I’m telling you…the girl was gorrrrgeous. I think my friends were downright jealous.
The waitress kneeled down next to me to collect my payment. She turned and smiled, looking me over. Without any hesitation, I smiled back and pushed my hair away from my face in a flirtatious way.
What was I doing?! Was I flirting? Or just being nice?
My feet couldn’t move fast enough to get me out of that restaurant. It felt like my identity, everything I knew about myself, had suddenly evaporated through the ink on the back of that receipt. At such a young age, it was too hard for me to look at the situation deeply.
It was too complicated, heart wrenching, but delicately beautiful at the same time. So I let it go. No words, no introspection.
The moment slipped by me and I tucked it away in my memory bank as just a one-off and filed it under: that time I flirted with a gorgeous waitress then sprinted out of the restaurant.
Fast forward through college. Yep, that’s right. I never flirted with another girl in college. It just didn’t come up as an option. So I figured my waitress flirtation was just a thing where I was simply too nice to not smile/flirt back.
I got married to a wonderful man. But the second year into our marriage…wham! The feeling came back. I was teaching middle school and we took our students on an overnight field trip to Yosemite. For a week.
You can see where this is going.
The girl assigned as our camp counselor was exactly my height. She was sporty but naturally beautiful. She laughed when I made sarcastic jokes. She bit her lip when I told her sweet stories about my day.
I simply couldn’t get her off my mind.
The whole way home, I was in tears knowing I’d have to tell my new husband that I couldn’t stop thinking about another woman.
But something shocking happened.
The words fell out of me at high velocity because he was my soul mate, my best friend — this was something I needed his help with, even if it hurt him.
But instead of being upset, he scooped me up in a loving hug and told me it was fine. He understood that I could have feelings for another woman, that it was perfectly ok. He just wanted me to be up front and tell him about it. Then he asked me all the details like we were two high schoolers gossiping about Phoebe Cates.
This understanding, openness, love…it was mind-blowing.
After many conversations, we decided that I would allow myself to open up to the possibility of a connection with a woman. There wasn’t too much to worry about as far as my falling in love with someone and leaving him. My overwhelming attraction to another woman only happens every once in a while. And I have no intention of giving up on this marriage.
Over the years, I have had intimate nights with four women. I never fell in love, never once had an inkling to leave my husband. But he savored the details and I loved telling him all about it.
Some of our hottest lovemaking sessions have been after I’ve told him all about how I gave an orgasm to another woman.
Coming from the south where everyone was very conservative about sex, this was a new world I never knew existed. I could love my husband dearly, but also experience love with another woman. How freeing!
I can now say, wholeheartedly, I am bisexual.
And nice.
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