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Disembodied Undersider Sex

Dispatch #5
Bisexual Part Two - Loud, Proud and No, I am not looking at you...

When I reveal my sexuality to people, whether its called ambisexuality, omnisexuality or bisexuality, sometimes they get a little tense. Women especially. Am I scoping them out for a possible sexual encounter? When they ask me if they look fat, should they be reacting to me as a sexual being or another woman talking to a friend?

Men immediately bite their tongues and I KNOW what they are thinking - can you and one of your girlfriends come over for a ménage a trios? Most men have the tact not to say it, but the question is literally being written in their eyes like a Times Square digital ticker - will…you…bring…over…a…hot…chick…and…let…me…watch? Sometimes I laugh; sometimes I really want to slug them. Hard.

So let me put some of my friends and acquaintances at ease - 99.9% of you are not my type. Yes, you may be cute, friendly, smart, loose, whatever, but you are someone I know, not someone I am secretly lusting after, biting my pillow over night after night. The only person I would EVER do that for is Sophie B. Hawkins…damn, I wish…well, you know the rest.

Seriously, I don't live in a sexually predatory state, thinking anything with a slimy hole is fodder for fucking. I am also not a nymphomaniac, sexual addict, promiscuous, easy and the local juice bar, if you get my meaning. It takes a complex combination of visuals, sounds, smells, words, shared laughter, long conversations and food compatibilities to unlock the key that is my attraction. I must be wooed body, soul AND mind, by a person, not a dick, a pussy or a bodacious set of ta-tas.

Think how hard it is for you to become truly attracted to someone and to sustain that attraction, with respect for the person in tact. It's all about the situation, the timing, the moonlight, dammit! Pheromones, symmetry and other kinds of biological science only last so long - chemistry fades, if there is nothing more than a sweet candy coating.

To my girlfriends, women at the gym and other random females I know - sweetie, you'll make someone a good catch someday. Just not me. I'm no prize either, but no, when I am in the gym, I am not sneaking a peek at your butt. That is the UNSEXIEST place for women, where most of the time we're grumpy, tired and eager just to cover up. And when we go clothes shopping, lingerie included, no, I am not going to jump you in the change room. And yes, when I say your butt is too big for those jeans, I am being straight up 100% a girlfriend. Would you want me to lie?

To my boys, my buddies, let me clear - I am not going to hook you up with one of my friends so you can watch us get it on - that is what porn is for. I will not shop for babes with you, because that widow shopping activity is really degrading, period, and a catcall is still rude, coming from either of our mouths. And no, I do not want to do anything more than hang like we always do - dirty jokes, computer lingo and film talk. And no, you STILL cannot call me your bitch.

That being said, as an artist, I cannot help but notice the comely features of any human being's facial features and body structure. A fine physique is a fine physique, and should be appreciated. I don't gawk or fawn - I find everybody interesting to some degree. Perhaps that's why I am bisexual - because I can appreciate beauty in all its forms.

I have to say my gay and lesbian friends are the most understanding about this. Since they have to deal with the straight community's fears on a regular basis, they totally get the deal - not everything is up for grabs.

For the few divine individuals out there I may be attracted to, trust me, I will let you know. Oh, Ms. Hawkins…!

By Melissa Ulto
© 2002

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Free Williamsburg© | 93 Berry Street | Brooklyn, NY 11211
[email protected] | July 2002 | Issue 28
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