Sex: Bi-Curious, aka I’m Thinking About Sleeping with Men

I’m like that girl in college who gets bored and wants to make out with girls at a party but she can’t really get down when it comes to touching another woman’s vagina.

I’m like that; but with penises.

Yeah, it’s like that.

It sounds fun when I’m drunk and horny but when it comes down to it, I’m not sure I can put my mouth where my mouth is.

There was this guy at a bar the other day – let’s call him Tom because I don’t remember his name at all – that I think may have been hitting on me. I’ve got a new really masculine hair cut that just screams dyke, so I’m not sure what his intentions were, but there was this moment when Tom looked at me and I thought “I could use the fuck out of you.”

I did get laid a few hours after I took this photo, though, so I know it works on women.

Yes, I know I’m a horrible human being for wanting to use someone, but hear me out on this one.

You know how freeing it would be to fuck someone you absolutely positively know you won’t want more from?

I do, I’ve done it. It’s amazing.

My life is all emotions and vulnerability now that I’m grieving. Everything is so intense, from my desire to shoot something to having sex, that I find myself craving sensation without emotion. I want to simply fuck someone and leave them, not caring if they call me again, not caring if they want to repeat the evening, not caring if they thought I was good, sexy, pretty.

I want to not care.

So when Tom looked at me in that way that said “I want to put my penis in your bodily orifices,” I thought “I want you to make me orgasm then I want to leave you and never see you again.”

Don’t even wait to say good-bye.

I don’t think like that with women these days. I’m so emotionally sensitive that I’m acutely aware of how easily other women can be hurt, so I stick around to make sure we’re both ok, process feelings, check in.

I’ve never met a man who wanted to process feelings and check in after a one night stand.

That sounds so lovely. Fucking and leaving without over-thinking and processing. Don’t get me wrong, I know men process and have feelings, and that I’m just perpetuating gender stereotypes by claiming I could sleep with a man and he wouldn’t mind if I never called him back, but the thing is, right now in my grief, the only thing I care about is ME not wanting to stick around.

Men don’t make me want to stick around. I don’t imagine what our babies would look like, who would carry them. I don’t start planning our wedding, decorating our future house. I don’t care if they’ve got a girlfriend in another state. I don’t care if they’re a stress case who stays up all night smoking, playing video games and jerking off, missing sleep and work. I don’t care if they skirt responsibility, chasing after the next shiny thing, leaving a trail of dumped commitments behind them. I don’t care if they’re a top or a bottom, femme or stud, if I’m emasculating them too little or too much. I don’t care about their orgasm.

I don’t care about men.

Well, that’s not true. I care very deeply about a lot of men in my life. I care for them in a way that borders on over-protective. I will cut a bitch who hurts any of the special men in my life.

This is Matt. I love Matt. Fuck with Matt and I will hurt you.

It would be more accurate to say I don’t care about what men I sleep with think about me. I’m not invested in a future with them. All I care about is if they’re willing to have sex with me right now.

This is all in theory. I haven’t had a sexual encounter with a cis-gendered male in years.

But I’ve thought about it. Tom isn’t the first guy to make me wonder if I still have it in me to have men in me. Tom isn’t the first guy to make me wonder if I’m still really good at giving head. (To flesh penises. I know I’m good at giving head to silicone ones.)

I once taught a class on relaxing your gag muscles.

But every time I think about it what it would mean to actually have a baby making disease shooter near my mouth or vagina, I freak out. Maybe it’s because I think of penises as baby making disease shooters. Maybe it’s because I’ve seen too many pictures of penises that look like this pickle.

Someone get this thing some penicillin stat.

But, to be fair to the baby making disease shooters, that pickle was quite tasty, even if the look of it made me skeptical at first.

Maybe that’s what I have to do with penises. Just jump right in, take a bite, see if it’s as tasty as everyone says it is.

Or maybe I just need to update my OKCupid profile and get a stronger vibrator.