Fifty-nine years and one day ago, a girl gave me the best birthday present ever: Her body. She was ashamed that her family was poor and that meant she was unable to give me a present at my party. I have a very clear memory of her coming to me, wishing me a happy birthday, and almost in tears to tell me that she didn’t have a present to give me but there was something she could give me.
Herself. We snuck into a hiding place I’d discovered in the huge hallway closet of the apartment I lived in: A “secret” area which, when I got a lot older, I realized was an extra storage space – and it was there where I’d asked her what she wanted to show me and what she showed me was how to have sex with her. I can get all into that “I had no idea about this” stuff even though it was the truth. She didn’t have to do anything to get me erect except to hike up her dress and pull her panties down; she laid down on her back and opened her legs and told me to lay on top of her, which I thought was weird but, okay; I did that and she guided me to her “kitty cat” and used her hands on my butt to push me into her and…
It felt weird. It felt good. I didn’t know what this was, but I liked it… I think. She talked me through how to move and I followed her instructions and it felt so good and I very much remember thinking that this is the sex thing my parents were telling me to stay away from. It went from feeling good to feeling really good; I was all… tingly. Then I heard my mother asking if anyone had seen me because it was time for me to blow out the candles on my cake and… some panic as I jumped up and we got “redressed,” and I went to blow out the candles on my cake and… I felt really good and a little bad because now I knew about the sex thing and had disobeyed my parents.
A whole lot of years later, I would understand what happened that day; I would understand the situation she found herself in; I would understand the sacrifice she made to do what she did, and I would absolutely, positively appreciate the gift of her body. What I would wonder was how did she know what to do? I never got the chance to ask her because her family had moved like a week later but, yeah, I knew how to do it a girl and was going after every opportunity to do it.
Then I got introduced to dick. The very forbidden thing of having sex with a male. The moment I had his dick in my mouth, I was hooked on the taste and feel and got the hook sunk in deeper when “all of a sudden,” I feel something warm in my mouth. It tasted salty and there was a lot of it and, in another of those moments that I will always clearly remember, I had to do something because the stuff in my mouth was starting to make me gag so… I swallowed it. More out of self-defense than anything else. Adult Me would be reliving this moment and say, “You could have spit it out, you know…” and, no, I didn’t know that (you big dummy) but I just did the only thing I could think of doing at the time.
And it was another of the best things I’d ever experienced. It was scary good because, once again, I’d disobeyed my parents and did the one thing they told me to never do, and I do remember asking them why and all they said was that it was wrong. And… now I knew that they were wrong but what I wanted to know after it was over and done with was why did something that everyone said was bad feel so good? A week later – and to my great shock and surprise – I would ejaculate for the first time and I did it inside my “girlfriend” and, yeah, thought I was dying and she’s ecstatically telling me that I did it over and over and I have no idea what she’s talking about, but she pointed down at her kitty cat and said, “Look!”
I did and, I dunno, my still shook-up mind just knew what all that white stuff was – the “dreaded and feared” baby-making stuff and my mind also made the connection of what I had swallowed that day. And now, I could shoot it. Adult Me would, one day, understand that in that very short period of time, I had learned what it “really” means to have sex. Girls. And boys. And… I was off and running on a path that I shouldn’t have been on but one I had no intention of ever leaving.
Why did something everyone said was so bad feel so good? Because it’s supposed to feel good and it’s not really as bad as I – and all of us youngsters – were being told it was, from having sex to having it with boys and being in that… special place where I could do the nasty – have sex – with both boys and girls. Did it get any better than that? I would find out that it did and as I like to say, I’m still embarrassed at how eager I was to have sex. Man, talk about being a whore about it? Anyone. Any place. Learning that what my father had told me about never putting my mouth on a girl’s pussy was not only mysterious but I never learned why he said that… but putting my mouth on a girl’s pussy, as it would turn out, was better than putting my mouth on a guy’s dick and making him shoot lots of cum into my mouth and, oh, yeah, my mother telling me, all late and wrong, to never let a girl put her mouth on my penis.
And knowing that both boys and girls were having a great time doing just that. It just didn’t get any better because if the girls didn’t want to do it, there was always a guy or two or five who’d want to, from sucking each other off to fucking each other. Adult Me would have a laughing fit to recall that I hated having my temperature taken rectally… but I liked a boy putting his dick in my ass, fucking me, and shooting lots of jizz – cum – in there. So weirdly good.
As I was learning more and more about having sex, I was also learning why grownups were so uptight about it. I would learn that there are bad things that can happen when you have sex. I would start to wonder if the adults around us (1) knew we were deep into having sex and (2) what us guys were doing to each other and every damned chance we got. Well, I got caught fucking a guy by my mom and I knew I was dead meat and, another of those crystal-clear memories, I still remember the lecture she gave me in lieu of beating the life out of me and to say it was scathing doesn’t even come close to how I felt. As in so many things, Adult Me would think about that moment – and the fact that after she got done verbally shredding me into tiny pieces, I went back to my room… and right back to what I got caught doing and having a bit of an attitude because I knew that had she walked into my room five minutes earlier, she would have caught the other guy dick-deep in me and there’s no telling how that would have went.
Adult Me would see that Teenaged Me would realize that the adults did know what us guys were doing and… they did nothing, well, for the most part. Adult Me would remember all of those times spending the night with a guy and we’re doing it like it nobody’s business and we’d get a huge scare to hear a parent saying, “You boys better not be doing anything you don’t have any business doing!” and I would think that it was a warning but I would understand that they weren’t really warning us as much as they were telling us that they knew what we were doing. I would learn, through the mistakes of others, that adults only got involved when (1) there was a complaint about it (and that was extremely rare) or (2) the guys in question were careless or just unlucky to get caught in the act.
Learning that what we were doing wasn’t just happening where we lived: It was… everywhere. All kinds of guys were into this and things like race didn’t exclude anyone. Some guys only had sex with guys but a lot of guys I’d meet were like me and had sex with both and couldn’t get enough of having sex and/or doing it with another guy. I was learning so much that Adult Me wonders why my head didn’t “explode” from all the information I was cramming into my head about sex and going both ways. The good of it as well as the bad. Understanding that “boys being boys” thing and what it could really mean if, uh, you know, a guy want to or didn’t mind doing it with another guy and also learning that sometimes, it was the only option other than jerking off as much as I and others were doing – and finding out that we didn’t go blind and didn’t start growing hair on the palms of our hands – was to have sex with each other and, at least for myself, I’d say that 98% of the time, the sex with guys was very damned good… but also learning some shit about us that girls not only knew but hated about us but also liked about us.
Yeah, girls are weird… but I was understanding why they were, and even more shit was getting crammed into my head and it all made sense to me; Adult Me would realize that I not only participated in a masterclass for having sex, I understood what sex was and before I turned 16 and when other guys and gals were just now finding out about sex. And the learning just did not stop.
Being exposed to the prejudice homosexuals were being exposed to even though I knew that I wasn’t homosexual, well, not as a “full time occupation.” Finding myself being amazed and/or amused to run into guys who were fantasizing about sex with men and in ways that I’d already done and “mastered” and all before I was a teenager. Getting even more into being the one guy that other guys would have their first sexual experience with a guy… or with anyone. Or, if that didn’t happen, I’m telling them what I know about this.
And at every turn, learning how… juvenile and hypocritical we are about having sex. Adult Me would go on a business trip to the UK and I remember how… embarrassed I felt to hear my UK teammates talking about how immature Americans was about sex and that we needed to grow up and get with the rest of the world where sex was concerned. And still learning that we were, on the whole, “content” to be prudish about it and making us the sexual laughingstock of the world.
And… the learning kept right on happening. Eventually getting around to understand why the social stigmata exists and, fuck, humans are insane because they want to believe all that religious stuff over what was really happening; that didn’t make sense to me then and it still doesn’t make sense to me. But my innate and sometimes bothersome curiosity about a lot of things would, one day, be what made me good at the job/career I’d chosen because it wasn’t enough to know that something happened; I had to know why it happened and, at least for my job, do whatever it took to make sure it didn’t happen again.
As far as bisexuality went, I just wasn’t “content” to know that, yeah, guys do have sex with each other and sometimes in some eye-opening ways that can make me cringe. I had to know why. I had to know what made a guy who wasn’t getting laid by a woman come to the conclusion that having sex with another guy was the thing to do and more so when masturbation was more of an inconvenience than the pleasurable thing it usually is. Why and what makes a guy want to always be “the girl” when having sex with a dude? Getting older and allegedly wiser about this bisexual thing and running into men who, according to them, never had any thoughts or interests in having sex with men… and now they want to and the urge to do it is driving them batshit crazy… and they wanted to know where this shit came from and what to do about it or, as I would learn, wish that they weren’t thinking and feeling the way they were about it and that it would just away and leave them the fuck alone.
And learning that… it never goes away. Yeah, as far as I know, the only thing that really makes this go away is when you stop breathing. Bearing witness to how our social and moral norms were at the source of “budding bisexuals” being confused and otherwise disturbed due to the conflicting nature of things. On the one hand, it’s a taboo and sin for a man to even think about wanting to have carnal knowledge of another man and worse if he does and if he does, he’s got to be gay. And learning some disturbing shit about humans and the power of belief can wield in ways that can make us, well, stupid, for lack of a better word because, clearly, a man who has sex (and other intimacies) with women and men can’t be gay.
And learning that some gay folks… aren’t really as gay as they believe themselves to be and bearing witness to some… insanity going on in this. Not all gay men hate women and as I’d heard it said and believed by others; not all lesbians were man-hating fanatics, but I’d learn that so many believed in the way being gay is supposed to be and, yeah, sometimes, they’d get confused and otherwise discombobulated to find out that the way it’s supposed to be isn’t always the way it can be.
You know, if you don’t mind and if you don’t mind, it never matters. Learning that the only way it does matter is if one keeps believing whatever’s going on inside their head instead of looking at what reality has been showing us all along and, all the while, trying to “get away” from accepting that we – humans – are some very damned sexual critters… and it’s not like we don’t know that and… that’s why there’s a way things are supposed to be and why they should never be deviated from and…
We’ve been deviating like a motherfucker… because it sure as fuck does feel good and it feels good to be bad. Learning that there’s a… dynamic at work here, not so much about what guys are doing to each other in the pursuit of sexual pleasure but how it’s being looked at. I like to say that once upon a time, any guy who would have sex with another guy would be deemed to be unmanly. If he sucked dick and like to get fucked, yeah – a total faggot and flaming fag… but I would notice that no one had anything bad to say about the other guy; if “Tim” was a girly faggot for sucking “Dean’s” dick and being fucked by Dean, what does that make Dean?
And that was “the way it was” for the longest time until I noticed a change and one that said that it is very manly to have sex with other men and if you didn’t, you were some kind of punk-assed motherfucker and one who needed to get with the program. I’d found this interesting because I had come to the conclusion many years prior that it takes some manly intestinal fortitude to make the decision to have sex with a guy and I knew that because I talked to a lot of guys about this and got to see – and learn – what it took to make this decision and in the face of the ongoing hatred for homosexuals. The need to have sex this way; being compelled to do it and, yeah, the dynamic had changed to the extent that I was seeing guys who knew what role they wanted to play in this, and they were nowhere near in a position to do what they were very much wanting to do.
The social dynamic was changing all along and more so when the LGB community was established, which started out being a damned good thing because they were a resource for those who were… having problems with their sexuality and it was a safety zone to escape the prejudice and hatred being displayed by those who refused to understand this thing about us. Today, it’s the LGBTQ+ community and bisexuals were/are finding out that in this alphabetical mishmash, we’re the red-headed stepchild because there are those of the LG persuasion who are of a mind that the B, specifically, isn’t a part of their struggle for equality all across the board.
And seeing how all of this social shit was affecting the dynamic where bisexuality was concerned. I thought things were bad when I was growing up… and it’s gotten worse and to the point where I’m sometimes not sure what the hell some folks are talking about… and then learning that they’re talking about this in the way that they are because… it’s the only way they can accept and understand it but, methinks, not just simply looking at it for what bisexuality really is and without overthinking the way they’re doing.
I wonder if the generation before mine were looking at how we were going about bisexuality and wondering what the fuck we were doing… and they probably were. I had to worry about being singled out as a homosexual; bisexuals today are worrying about being erased. What the ever-loving fuck? Is it just me or has everyone really and finally lost their minds? They went from understanding how fluid human sexuality really is to… being erased. Being told that they’re invisible. Now it’s all about gender and being non-binary, and a whole lot of other things, I’m finding it hard to make sense of, like, really – what the fuck does “cishet” really mean? Yes – I looked the word up and I understand what it says… but I don’t understand why the word exists in the first place. There are bisexuals who object to the word “bisexual.”
What…? The thing I am seriously glad and happy about is that I didn’t become bisexual in the here and now. I know that it was confusing enough as I was growing up and today – and how some or a lot of folks are looking and redefining bisexuality – it’s even more confusing and I sometimes find it… disturbing to see how many people are buying into this… reorganization of bisexuality. It’s now become a political thing for us to bitch about – and like we don’t have enough political shit to be fussing and bitching about already and this bitching seems to be along the same lines that homosexuals were bitching about… and they had a damned good reason to bitch and take things to the political level.
The overall “perception” that bisexuals are being persecuted makes my jaw drop. I know that bisexual men were the great evil before folks today started riffing about; I know that the schism between men and women got widened because bisexual men were seen as the great and dangerous evil; I knew both men and women who believed that all bisexuals carried the HIV virus. Learning how we let our fears, both real and imagined, just fuck with us and for no good reason and letting that which we fear override our intelligence and, sometimes, irrationally so… like biphobia. And if that wasn’t bad enough, all of those people who insist that it’s not an irrational fear and as phobias have been described as and before I was born and way before that blessed event.
They say that biphobia is not an irrational fear of bisexuals… but it is. So is homophobia but here’s the thing I learned about this: We become afraid of something when we’re told to be afraid of it. And, supposedly, it’s possible for a bisexual to be biphobic… and I still don’t know how the fuck that works. I’ve gotten flak from some quarters because I don’t believe in that stupid erasure thing that has so many bisexuals pissing themselves over. You can’t erase bisexuality. We’re still trying to erase and invalidate homosexuality and, yeah, you really have to think about and question our collective sanity to be trying to get rid of something that has always existed and that’s because it’s part of human nature.
And how did trying to erase homosexuals work? It didn’t. So, trying to erase bisexuals isn’t going to work. It’s said that I’m invisible because I’m not of a mind to let every damned person I come across know that I’m bisexual and I’m sure as fuck not going to be “out in the street” and like so many are doing to let everyone know that bisexuals are real… and like we didn’t know that already – and we did know it but those damned homosexuals were the great evil to pay the most attention to.
Growing up – and I’ve said it before, and I’ll keep right on saying it – the general consensus was that anyone who would go both ways must be out of their fucking minds and more than those gay motherfuckers were crazy. I keep learning; I do my best to understand the things I’m observing as the dynamic continues to change right before my often-unbelieving and incredulous eyes. What the holy fuck is going on?
And I know people who wonder why I long for the good old days…