I ran across this blog while looking for new stuff with the “Bisexuality” tag and after I read it I thought, “Wow, you don’t see or hear much about this from women!” Then the curious part of my brain – the part that continually asks questions – chimed in with, “Are there any such differences from your point of view? Hmm?”
Damned brain, making me think about shit that I normally don’t think about. Not that I really don’t think about it, I just never – or rarely – think about the differences between being with a man and being with a woman and, yeah, they’re different but Mr. Curiosity then asked, “Yeah, but how are they different? What makes it different? Don’t tell me you don’t know because, duh, I know for a fact that you know… now fess up!”
Bastard… but he’s right – I do know and the answers lie in my behavior in either situation. One the one hand, guys are supposed to take charge during sex with women; we call the shots, decide what’s to be done and all that and it’s all good as long as we complete the goal of satisfying her. On the other with guys, um, well, that can be the case… and sometimes it wasn’t.
Being dominant or submissive in bed, to me, is just part of the deal; someone has to take the lead, someone has to be led if it helps to think about it like this. Guys are “taught” to initiate sex… but I know I have zero qualms about someone else getting the ball rolling which kinda makes sense when I think about the countless number of times I’ve been required and expected to start things off – sometimes, you just wanna lay back and let the other person light the fires. So I have to think about this, not in terms of roles so much, but in terms of being in a particular moment or with a particular person, whether I’m feeling anxious, eager, a bit dominant or even a bit submissive and, of course, I never know until that moment arrives whether or not I’m gonna be the one doing the taking… or if I’m going to get taken.
The author really had me thinking about the differences and even why those differences make themselves apparent; I honestly don’t give it a lot of thought even though I know that more men than women in my sexual history have been… aggressive about it and while I wouldn’t react negatively if my baby decided to just house my ass, if a guy did it, well, we might have words on the matter. If nothing else, I learned that there’s a difference between making love to someone and making love with someone and I guess it’s preference… and maybe it really isn’t and more so since in my head I don’t really care who gets things started as long as they get started; you just do whatever the moment calls for.
I have noticed that with women I’ll get things started because, well, I’m supposed to; that’s part of the job description. With men, I notice that I tend to get impatient and mostly because since we’re both guys and de facto sex-starters, I’m waiting to see if he’s gonna make the first move or I, once again, have to start the show, not that I mind it, but it’s a difference in my behavior. The differences go deeper; with women, if I’m kissing on them and feeling them up before we’ve hit the sack, I’ve already started the ball rolling – think of it as foreplay before the foreplay starts (and if it even starts at all); with guys, well, there’s no… buffer between “let’s do this” and actually doing it – I’m not fond of kissing men and I’ve learned that a lot of guys don’t want to be bothered with anything that looks like foreplay; let’s just get naked and let the cock sucking begin, thank you very much.
After the ball begins its journey, it doesn’t matter to me how things progress because I’ve come to understand that through the process of having sex, the roles of being dominant and submissive can be interchangeable and depends on who’s doing what and when, just as I’ve learned that there are subliminal things going on, like I mentioned, if a woman is being aggressive with me, I’m good with that… but not so much when a man wants to get aggressive. I recall the first time (as an adult) a guy pushed me onto the bed so he could get at my belt: I almost kicked his ass and while he laughed at my reaction, I knew that he had no idea how close he came to winding up in a hospital bed. It told me that I have to watch myself and pay more attention to the differences between playful aggression and that “You’re gonna be my bitch, bitch!” aggression that some men bring to the table. But I digress…
Go read this lady’s blog and see if you find it as enjoyable as I did. I know myself well enough to understand that while I’m aware of the differences I can experience with men and women, my mind just notes them and lumps everything together because despite any differences, ya mon, it’s sex!