I was still “high” on the euphoria of having discovered that boys do have sex with boys even though everyone said that it was evil. Evil? Sure didn’t feel that way and the very next day, I was off and running and well into my cock-crazy phase and beyond deliriously happy to find that my male friends were just as cock-crazy as I had become.
Yet and almost right away, I also had the very strong feeling that I was the only boy who was like this… even though I was having the grandest field day with my friends and at every opportunity. The feeling was… persistent and in those moments where I’d find myself just sitting and thinking about how wonderful it was to suck dick and be screwed as well as the great thrill of watching a friend sucking me and, sometimes, giggling insanely to see my dick between his butt cheek and knowing it was in his hole, the feeling that I was the only one like this would wrap around me like a warm blanket that, well, it was warm but not really – I don’t know how to describe it.
The feeling conflicted and contradicted the reality and so much that it actually took me a couple of years before I realized that, um, no – it wasn’t just me and the proof was the many guys I’d had sex with and how the fuck did I not see that before now? I knew I saw it – duh, right – but it didn’t “stick” in my head to dispel the feeling of being incredibly unique. Man, I don’t know how to explain what that feels like but I can tell you that I felt pretty stupid over how long it took for me to finally understand that in this, I wasn’t as unique and alone in this as I felt.
A lot of guys would tell me, when we revealed that we liked having sex with other guys, “I thought it was just me!” and the relief they felt to find out that, nope, it wasn’t just them. It’s weird in that you know that there are guys who like to do it with other guys, and you know that, um, if you were me, you’d do it with a guy faster than one can blink and it would be good (most of the time) and not so good (shit happens) but that feeling is just there. For myself, it wasn’t a matter of me feeling relieved that I wasn’t the only guy like this but it was a “duh” moment because I didn’t catch on; I wasn’t able to let the reality of my actions kick the feeling to the curb. It was weirder to be with a friend, we’re sucking each other like it was illegal and, yet the feeling of uniqueness was very much present. I just didn’t connect the dots and, of course, this older version of myself insists that I should have been able to and rolling my eyes at my younger self taking two years to finally understand that, nope, it wasn’t just me.
I don’t know what makes us feel this way; there isn’t a guy I knew of that was into this kind of sex and they didn’t have this indescribable feeling of uniqueness with a chase of feeling very alone in this… and even if they were having sex with guys all along. One the first things we tell new members who introduce themselves is that they’re not alone in this and it’s important to let them know this… because each and every one of us has felt like we were alone and it was just us.
I don’t know why. At one point, I had the thought that it was really a thing of me diving headfirst into something I shouldn’t have and knowing that I could get into all kinds of trouble and except for one moment, I got away with doing it but, nah, that wasn’t it; it wasn’t quite the feeling of doing something you shouldn’t have done and getting away with it, oh, like sneaking out of the house when you’d gotten grounded and then sneaking back in and no one knew you had escaped. Why did this feeling “blind” me to the facts of the matter?
Obviously, it couldn’t have just been me and, shit, I knew it wasn’t just me – duh, right? It didn’t click in my head; it didn’t click in the heads of a lot of guys; it still doesn’t quite click in the heads of men today because even the guys who are arriving late to the party say that they have this feeling of being unique and alone… even though these guys are old and worldly enough to know that there are men who have sex with men. So, if you know this, you should know that you’re not really that unique nor are you the only one and especially if you’re talking to a guy who, bluntly, likes dick, too.
Knowing this doesn’t dispel the feeling until it clicks in your head that you’re not that unique or alone or someone actually tells you that you’re not alone – and I don’t mean someone who isn’t bi like us stating the obvious; no – the feeling doesn’t go away until another guy who likes dick tells you that, nope, it’s not just you. It’s me, too. It takes a weight off your mind and a weight that I didn’t know was there. One of the things I talk about and I’ve heard other bisexuals say is that the moment you have sex in the same-sex mode, you just feel free. Liberated. The Matrix had you and now it doesn’t any longer. You’ve escaped traditional sexual dogma.
Free. Liberated. Eyes wide open. Feeling unique and alone. It doesn’t make any damned sense. I can remember sitting with my friends and gossiping about who among us was having sex with those among us. Comparing and critiquing things. So and so was good at sucking but was a baby about being fucked and other such gossipy things… and that feeling of being unique and alone was right the fuck there and making me feel different from the guys I knew weren’t different in this. I would often panic and think that, okay, there’s something wrong with me; I know that when I got hit by a car, my head took a seriously good whack at some point so maybe something got screwed up and I’m just now finding out?
No, that couldn’t be it or I didn’t think it was. I felt fine after I got over the bumps, bruises, cuts and scrapes of getting hit by a car and the fact that it was like a week later that I was introduced to the joys of dick and it wasn’t until that moment when I started feeling like it was just me. Yeah, I got way older and would think about that moment and saw that in that precise moment, I’d totally overlooked the fact that it couldn’t have just been me… since I had sucked another guy’s dick. Duh, right? I couldn’t shake the feeling; I felt unique. Alone. Free. It didn’t make sense and even after getting that out of my head when I did, it still doesn’t make sense.
At another point, I thought that the departure from moral sexual norms had something to with this damned feeling. It would explain the sense of being free but it didn’t explain that irritating feeling of uniqueness and feeling that I was the only one when, again, I sure as hell wasn’t. How the hell can you know something but feel like you don’t know it? The good part was that I didn’t let this… disconnect bother me, well, any more than it was until it went away. Even the guys I grew up having sex with said that they felt like it was just them – wasn’t that crazy? I’d eventually meet (and get with) first-time guys and they, too, said the same thing. I didn’t and still don’t understand this anymore that I understand what makes so many of us say, after having that first experience with dick, that it felt right and normal. Wait, I think I kinda understand that one a little because it’s also that moment we find that everything we were told about having sex with someone who’s the same sex as you as being evil and all that was… a lie, for lack of a better word. Not the whole truth of things. Even a lie of omission. The truth set us free.
And we feel unique in this and all by ourselves, too. I don’t know about the other guys but in my head, there was some… shit going on. The feeling wasn’t bad; it was quite exhilarating, to be honest but it very much conflicted with some obvious stuff that, for some reason, didn’t allow me to really see that I wasn’t the only one. I would think that it was crazy to feel like this when I knew for a fact that it wasn’t just me… and, again, it took two years for it to finally click in my head and just go away, never to return. It’s like the damned feeling said, “My job here is done – it was nice fucking with you!”
I don’t know a bisexual – male or female – who hasn’t had this feeling. I can go on Twitter as many times a day I care to and will eventually see someone post something saying that they felt unique and alone but now that they’ve talked to other bisexuals, they no longer feel this way (and whether they’ve had the sex or not). And it remains a very important point in this to let other bisexuals know, right off the bat that, nope – it’s not just you. You’re not as alone in this as you think you are. Your individuality makes you – and all of us – unique but at the same time, all bisexuals are the same because we’re all bisexual and now it gets down to the details that are uniquely our experiences even though every last one of us has had that first time feeling this way and that first time having the sex and, well, shit, it’s not that complicated as it seems but let it suffice that it wasn’t just you who felt this way or had whatever sex that took place to make you feel like you were the only one.
I think this is one of those details about bisexuality that we don’t say a lot about and it’s definitely one of those things that occurs in every generation and maybe, just maybe, it’s true that every generation finds bisexuality to be such a new thing and because that “information” doesn’t get spread around so that, say, the generation after mine already knows that they’re not the only one because my generation knew it – and let “everyone else” know this. We know more about gay people than we do bisexual people but that makes sense giving how long we’ve been raising all kinds of hell about homosexuality. Perhaps this feeling is borne out of an understanding that we’re not homosexual but we’re no longer heterosexual and, as such, that sets us apart from “everyone else?” – but we don’t immediately or really get that until we meet someone who is like us and they say, “Yeah, I know what you mean but you’re really not as alone as you think you are.”
I kick my own ass looking back at this moment – and I know I shouldn’t and it’s not a problem but, yeah, it wasn’t just me. It was pretty much every guy I grew up with; it was a whole lot of guys I met and had sex with outside of my neighborhood. My city. My state. My country. I knew there were other guys like me but until it clicked into place, it continued to make me feel… uniquely alone in this and I’ll be dipped in shit if I know why, and I don’t know why it took two years for this to resolve itself in my head once and for all. I would learn that a lot of guys had this feeling and carried it with them – with or without the sex – for many more years than I did and, yep, until another bi guy – or sometimes, a bi gal – would say, “You’re not alone.” And it seems to me (and I’m probably way off base) that someone who isn’t bi and telling you this “doesn’t count.” They’ll tell you that there’s no way you could be the only one like this or you just hear them going off about anyone who isn’t straight and “logically” it makes sense because they wouldn’t be pitching a bitch about people who aren’t straight if there weren’t people who aren’t straight.
As such, you know this. You hear about this. Even I heard about this and it was very strongly suggested that I not be one of those people. I felt uniquely alone while being almost over my head having sex with guys and gals. Sounds very cray-cray, doesn’t it? I was not only quacking like that duck, I was the only duck… but how could that be? If I’m locked into a heated 69 with another guy – and it didn’t matter if he was gay or not – um, dude, there’s no way that you’re the only one… but it felt like I was.
Until the day when I finally realized that it was never just me. I’m not sure if you can “understand” what this feels like; maybe you do and for some reason. What I do know is that I didn’t know then and I don’t know now why these feeling manifests itself. Do some escape this? I dunno. If they do, I’ve never heard anyone say that they never had this feeling. I’ve met bisexuals who have said that they had an idea that it wasn’t just them but, oddly, there was no “proof” and, yeah, I know that doesn’t make a damned bit of sense, but this is some very real shit that, as far as I know, all bisexuals feel.
It’s also damned important for a bisexual to tell another bisexual that they’re not alone… and I don’t know why it works like this, either. Some have said that they knew they weren’t alone but, yeah, alone because they didn’t get the “confirmation.” You tell a fellow bisexual that they’re not alone and it’s a relief beyond imagination; that “great weight” lifted from them or that “ah-ha” moment that makes them say, “I knew it! I knew there was no way in hell that I could be the only one like this!”
And, yeah, feeling like this while up to their pretty eyes having the sex. I have no explanation for it other than it’s clear that bisexuality isn’t something that gets handed down and, in the sense, like we know for a fact that some people are straight and some are gay. Like, I knew – and because I’d hear older folks talking about it – that there were people who went both ways and that it didn’t make sense to them to be like that. Well, I was like that and having stupid fun, too… and it still didn’t dispel the feeling that it was just me.
I remember talking with a guy (and before we were about to get into it) and we were specifically talking about this feeling. He had asked, “Do you feel like you’re the only one who likes doing it with boys and girls?” and I said that I felt that way, too, but instead of us pondering how… impossible that was, we got all giddy about being able to do what we were getting ready to do… and then doing it. We were in heaven as we sucked on each other until we shot our loads into each other’s mouth and then, later, fucked each other into glorious orgasmic bliss…
And both of us still feeling like it was just us. And I fucking do not know why it didn’t click with either of us that it wasn’t just us and the proof was in what we’d just got finished doing. He was just like me in that having sex with a guy or a gal didn’t matter one bit. The key was, I think in the here and now, that neither of us said, “You’re not alone; you’re not the only one who feels this way about guys and gals.” Like I said earlier, it eventually clicked and stuck in my head that, nope – you weren’t the only one, dummy. Duh. But, again, I’d find myself talking to a guy and we get to talking about this and how we felt and I tell him that, nope, you’re not the only one but it sure feels like it. The moment he heard this, I could often see them do that “sigh of relief” and sometimes literally sigh and that feeling of being all alone in this just goes away.
And I do not know how that works. I don’t think that anyone really knows other than it being what it is. It’s not just me. It was never just me and I know this now and, oddly, I think I knew it way back then… but I didn’t know it. When I now factor in that generational thing? Yeah, it makes sense that, again, in every generation, we act as if bisexuality is something new and that’s fucking weird all by itself; we “carry over” that sense of being uniquely alone and even special because, maybe, just maybe, we have never really admitted that bisexuality is and has been a real thing all along and it’s probably quite normal to feel this way after being freed from the constraints and restraints applied by our morality but, weirdly, keep feeling this way until another bisexual specifically says, “Nope – it’s not just you and you’re not alone because I’m like you, too, and, um, I used to think that I was the only one, too…”
If nothing else, it “explains” why I’m often incredulous to hear today’s bisexuals talking and going batshit crazy over stuff and, now, rhetorically asking why they don’t know this or that but, of course, I have the advantage of having already learned about this even in an on-the-job-training kind of way and, yeah, methinks because they’re just now finding out what I’ve always known, they feel… uniquely alone even though, once more, they know that there are men who have sex with other men and not all of them are gay. It just doesn’t click that it isn’t just us and even if we intuitively know that it’s literally impossible that we’re the only guy who has ever lived and is bisexual.
But it sure feels that way. It’s one thing if it’s someone else but very damned different when you’re quacking like that duck and feeling like it’s just you and all by yourself in this. The feeling is real. No frigging idea why this happens or where it comes from. I felt like this and the guys I grew up with and having sex felt like it, too; a lot of guys across the following generations have and/or are feeling like this. There’s something going on about this… and I don’t have a clue about what that might be or why it exists in the first place.
I need more coffee…