I look at women. No, I mean I look at women. I look at their mouths, their eyes, their hands, their breasts, their curves and lines. I listen to their voices, their accents, their speech, their laughter. If I can, I’ll get close enough to get a whiff of their hair or skin, make contact for a second. Sometimes, at some point, a woman looks back.
And that’s when I run.
Something in my head flips reality back on and I back off. You’re married, says my brain. You can’t get involved. So, over the protests of my lips and my skin and my cunt, I withdraw. Because my brain, you see, has a point. I am not free to get entangled with a woman and, without some kind of investment like that, I can’t see myself being with one. A man, yes. A man, I could just fuck once and never think of again. Knowing me, I probably wouldn’t even think of him while I fucked him.
Maybe it’s just the security heterosexuality gives you. It’s a given that men and women want to and will have sex with each other, so pretty much every kind of hookup is ‘normal’. There are endless acceptable variations to the dynamic between men and women – even the ones that are a bit out there still have a veneer of acceptability because they involve the right kind and number of people.
In contrast, if you have the ‘wrong’ kind (or number) of people, you’re immediately taking more of a risk, making yourself more vulnerable. As someone who can retreat into the safety of being ‘normal’, I think it would be unfair to ask someone to take that risk unless I do too. “I’m married so I can’t possibly be queer.” may be transparently disingenuous, but it can still be said and accepted, if not believed.
I can see why gay girls stay the hell away from bisexuals. From the interactions I’ve had and the conversations I’ve observed both online and in real life, I’ve understood that bisexuals are seen as predatory, unreliable and insincere. Some make the argument political, but for most it’s about being the more vulnerable person in the relationship. Being female and South Asian already, I really, really, don’t want to enter into a situation where I have to proffer even more explanations about who and what I am.
The solution, it seems, is to seek out other bisexual women because at least they’ll get where I’m coming from. Not as easy as it sounds, that, given that bisexuals make up an even smaller minority of what is already a pretty small minority in the queer world. And they’re harder to spot. My gaydar is pretty spot-on for both men and women, but bisexuals don’t seem to trip it.
And then of course we’re back to the “you can’t seek anybody out, missy, because you’re married.” I don’t cheat. I don’t want to lie and hide because I don’t think this is something that needs to be lied about and hidden, because I don’t think that there’s anything inherently wrong with it in the first place. Unfortunately though, that means that until I can expand the terms of my marriage, nothing can happen.
H and I have talked about it previously but since it’s an uncomfortable topic, nothing much has come of it. In some way, I think I’m hoping this blog will help us sort some of it out. He’s always known about my bisexuality – I’ve never made a secret of it and he’s never had an issue with it. We just sort of went along with the joke that all being bisexual really means is that there’s twice as many people in the world you’ll never have sex with. Five years on, I’m not so convinced.
Sometimes, I wish it were simply that monogamy wasn’t working for me and that I wanted to have sex with other men because I could do that without threatening the emotional base of my marriage. I can’t fathom keeping a woman at that kind of emotional distance. And that would have ‘implications’ that I don’t know if we’re equipped to deal with.