…the other side of bisexuality, the side a lot of people try to bypass, ignore, deny, or just don’t believe in: The emotional affinity for the same sex. Some of us have it and some of us don’t – it’s really that simple but the lack of the affinity, at least in my opinion, doesn’t invalidate one’s bisexuality; it is good to remember that while bisexuals tend to fit the general description – and you can read this as conforming to the definition of bisexual – it doesn’t fit all of us exactly.
While some of us can easily imagine having the sex – and even if they’ve not had it yet – some can’t imagine falling in love with a member of the same sex (MOTSS) any more than they can imagine being in a serious relationship and perhaps it’s because others would see them more as being gay than bisexual; others would easily forget that, say, “Janet” was in a relationship with “Mark” before they broke up, ending six years of being together. But now that she’s met “April” and they’re now a couple, well, that’s more telling, isn’t it, and to a lot of people, “Janet’s” really a lesbian – and a perception that would be enhanced if, say, “April” was a bi-friendly lesbian.
I got to thinking about this yesterday evening, drawing on my own experience with the “E side,” a place I never thought I’d go. There were guys that I liked, not necessarily because of sex but because they were decent people… but to fall in love with a guy? It wasn’t as much unthinkable as perhaps I just lacked imagination or, importantly, foresight in that I couldn’t see such a thing happening. I never questioned it as a gay thing to do and I had known a couple of people who had “crossed over” – and I was fine with that; besides, that was them and not me.
I thought about how “R” did things to let me know that he was attracted to me, things that I didn’t even pay attention to while they were taking place until way after the fact; I frowned and then smiled wistfully because, yep, I all too clearly remember that he just flat-out pulled the wool over my eyes – so much for situational awareness, huh? I thought about the conversation we had, where he told me that he was in love with this guy but didn’t know how to tell him and where he asked what he could and should do and that me, like a dummy, told him the truth: Just tell the guy and whatever happens, happens.
And he told me that he loved me, that he wanted to be with me, that he wanted to be mine even though he knew I was married and, oh, yeah, he and my wife were good friends, too. I was floored and so stunned that I couldn’t say anything – that’s about the time my mind put all the pieces together, saw all the signs and hints he had been laying down for the last couple of years… and I missed them, took them for something else and while I would find the time to be angry with myself later, I did manage to find my voice long enough to say, “I don’t know what to say…”
You know how you ask, “How will I know when I’m in love?” and the person you asked says, “You’ll know it when it happens!”? Well, I knew it… and I just couldn’t believe it, not even when he leaned toward me and kissed me… and the rest, as they say, is history.
And now, many years later, I look back at that time in my life, thinking about how it made me feel and how it changed my thinking about love, sex, relationships and, yeah, even bisexuality – it’s like the whole thing came full circle for me because if I didn’t understand bisexuality before, I sure as hell got to do just that. As I piddled around yesterday evening, I took some inner processing time to look back at that moment again to see if I could isolate and capture specific things about my feelings for R, how they blossomed and developed and the conflicts I had where my feelings for my wife were concerned, beginning with the fact that they hadn’t been affected even though I had been worried about how she would take the news – and, as those of you who have heard about this before, she took it better than I could have ever dreamed. I recall being “confident,” which really isn’t the word for what I felt but it’s close enough, that with my love for her intact, I could focus on my love for R; this was something I just couldn’t accept gratis because, well, I was learning how to love another man; I found myself in virgin territory and while I did deal with it, looking back, I probably could have dealt with things better than I did – easy enough to say after the fact, right?
Fate, as it tends to do, intervened and he had to leave me/us and, yes, it hurt and more than I thought it would; today, I feel that he and I didn’t have enough time for things to fully run their course, didn’t have enough time for me to learn how to really deal with the effeminate side of him – things just happened in a way that while we did have the dreaded “loving relationship,” it just didn’t have the time to get where it could have gone… wherever that could have been.
They say love is blind, something that can be both a good and bad thing depending on what’s going on in the relationship; with me and R, love didn’t as much blind me as it blurred the line between things and, damn, it’s gonna be hard for me to explain what that means but the closest thing that I can easily think of is that loving him didn’t feel any “different from loving my wife, other than some really subtle things that I have no words for. I thought about the intimacy and, well, obviously, there are differences in being intimate with a man, physical differences… but emotionally? I had gotten to the point where I couldn’t tell the difference beyond the obvious – and I looked for them because I was still trying to figure out how this all happened. Today, I think his effeminate behaviors either “blinded” me or blurred the lines to the point where they barely existed; certainly, there was that line between the physical differences… but emotionally?
And to this day, I’ve never figured it all out; I just know that it was what it was and that I had finally given in and just accepted it. Being in love with him, even for such a short time, was amazing; yeah, I couldn’t get my head completely around his being so effeminate but that was my fault and not his. The sex was just as amazing, not just because he was so very willing to just let me have my way with him even if brought out a “dominant” side of me I didn’t particularly care for. I know now that he was a pure bottom and I even feel a little bad because my sense of fairness made me “force” him to fuck me… but I didn’t understand his reluctance or his resistance but I know now that because he loved me, he’d do it and he always did his best to make it good for me… but would remind me that he preferred being on the receiving end more than the doing end. It wasn’t that I ignored this about him – I didn’t and I spent more time fucking him than he did me but when I wanted to be fucked by him, well, I wasn’t taking no for an answer because it was only fair that if he were so willing and eager to give me his ass, I couldn’t do anything less than that in return.
It was easy to be affectionate with him; I had long since discovered that I didn’t like kissing guys… but I didn’t mind at all kissing him; I found it easy to go from being intimate with him to being intimate with my wife… but the sex wasn’t the most interesting part of the intimacy – it was the conversations we’d have about what it was like to be in love with a guy or talking to him about what it was like to make love to a woman, something he had never attempted to do. I know that I learned so much from these conversations and at so many different levels and I know that had I not had this relationship with him, I may not have learned these things or, at best, I would have eventually learned them later in my life.
I know my experience with this isn’t unique and isn’t even a “de facto” way to go about being bisexual. If anything, it does say that taking a trip to the “E side” of bisexuality is possible under the right circumstances, even when one doesn’t think it’s possible or that it can happen to them; certainly, I never thought it could happen to me and more so when “it wasn’t supposed to happen” because I was married. Just a few moments ago, I realized that this was my first poly experience – that had me blinking because I hadn’t realized that before now. I probably wouldn’t have thought about it had I not been thinking about married bisexuals at that precise moment and the fellas in particular and how so few of them ever get to experience something like this without having to worry about their wife wanting to castrate him and get in the wind, along with other messy things she could do to voice her displeasure about having her territory trespassed upon.
I just didn’t like this guy; he wasn’t just a piece of ass; he was more than just a close friend. I loved him. It wasn’t a thing of me loving him more than I did my wife or loving her more than him. I knew that it was different and because they were different – big fucking duh, huh? – but it was love just the same, undeniable in its power to insinuate itself into situations where our ethics and morals say it shouldn’t be allowed to show its face. One song came to my mind last night when I was thinking about this: Stephanie Mills’ “I Learned To Respect The Power Of Love” and if you haven’t heard this song, you should listen to the power of it, the message Stephanie brings to the song, and know that love does happen when you least expect it, shows up in ways you never expect it to, and changes your life in ways you would never dream of. Whether this is a good or bad thing depends on you… but never say never and don’t believe it can’t or won’t happen to you because when you least expect it, you’ll learn, as I did, that Love has a sense of humor…