Tales of a Semi-Professional Lesbian

From Straight Girl to Bisexual: How I Fell for My Best Friend and Her Boobs

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I guess I feel the need to share all this because I feel like making endless love to both sexes successfully makes me a bad ass.  Maybe that makes me a dork.  Maybe the only place I want to be right now is at the top of a mountain wearing nothing but underwear and a leather jacket screaming, “I’m a bisexual lesbian, baby.  AIN’T ANY THANG.”

I do feel like I should have figured this out at some point during my adolescence, though: I wanted to be Joe Elliot, the lead singer for Def Leppard, for God’s sake.  Why didn’t that clue me in?  (To be fair, I also wanted to be Bo Derek, Wembley from Fraggle Rock and Madonna – so I get the confusion.)  It just didn’t occur to me, not during my four years of college on a softball scholarship, not during my time in Europe playing semi-professional soccer for Manchester United, not even when I marveled at my impressive tube sock collection did it occur to me.  Maybe it just shouldn’t matter when, maybe it’s just about the who and the what.  Right now I feel like I’m finally me and if it takes dating both sexes for years to figure it out then so be it.  The B word isn’t such a bad thing.

I’m proud to be bisexual.  We’re a misunderstood breed.   When I came out to my gay friends, I thought I was going to get some kind of a welcome gliteratti leather and lace parade with a ball later that night that included a step and repeat.  Nope.  All I got was, “You’re a slut, you’re confused, you’re in a phase, we don’t want you.”  Well, fine.  Be that way.  My tube sock collection might suggest otherwise, but I’m pretty secure in the fact that it’s all about the person to me.  Why else would I date a Star Wars nerd?

And maybe it is a phase, but I don’t think so.  I think we have more important things to think and care about other than who our fellow friends, relatives and/or students love.   That feels a little preachy, but too bad.  I don’t think that there’s anything that should hold you back from what your heart is telling you except bad breath.  Get a mint, girl, and let’s talk.

Image via yahoo

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