Of course this would be true, avocados being squishy, slimy, and green. I resisted eating guacamole for years until a young woman I’d taken to a Mexican restaurant ordered it prepared tableside for two. Not wanting to look like the culinary sissy I was, I tried it and kept eating until I eventually consumed most of her share as well as mine. Shaina, are you reading this?
By contrast, I embraced bisexuality shortly after I turned ten when I stumbled across the definition in a medical dictionary my parents kept on the top shelf of the bookcase. “Heterosexuality …” I read. Okay, but what about boys? “Homosexuality …” Well, sort of, but what about girls? “Bisexuality …” That’s me! No question about it! I concluded. Reading those few short descriptions, I knew exactly who I was.
A male friend and I experimented a little in junior high, all the while talking about how much fun it would be to someday do the same things with girls. With girls, it turned out to be even more fun than I’d imagined, but I never forgot or denied how much fun I’d had with my male friend. When I told a few guy friends in high school I was bisexual, they said: “What’s that?” (This was the 1960s after all.) When I explained, they said, “That sounds like you,” yawned, and asked if I wanted to go catch a movie. I heard all the horror stories over the years but never experienced any of the typical bullying others faced. Nor was I ever made to feel like I had to hide who I was in any way.
While dating, I told both of the women I eventually married that I was bisexual. Like my friends in high school, they asked, “What’s that?” I told them I liked men as well as women, doubling the number of people to whom most others were attracted, and yet I was choosing be with them. Who would have guessed bisexuality could be used to create a great date line? Crass as it was—however true—it yielded two great relationships that endured for a combined 30 years.
I’ve always loved my sexuality—particularly my openness and responsiveness to women and men alike. Having had varied experiences with both sexes, there’s nothing about sex I find scary, off-putting, or gross. Other than breathing and eating, what’s more natural than sex? Sex is scintillating and stimulating, health-inducing and stress reducing, heart connecting and relationship building. To be able to enjoy such benefits with both men and women has felt life-long like one of my greatest blessings.
Once on a date, I was asked by a woman what it was like to be with a man. With both women and men, I told her, sex is romantic and juicy and deep and profound. But with men, there’s an added element of healing—a reclaiming of the joy of youthful play and experimentation that was stolen from men when our ancestral tribes were decimated by religious zealots who declared sex “sinful” in a ruthless grab for power and wealth. (More on that in future blogs.)
I’ve been with men when we’ve laughed and cried as we reclaimed our birthright to be sexual with each other. I’ve felt their stubbly beards against my cheeks and thought about my Father who I adored and who I honor for having been a great man. I’ve looked in men’s eyes, gently stroked their cheeks, and held them while they cried over a newfound brotherhood they never imagined they’d ever experience. Most of them called themselves “straight,” whatever that means.
The old labels are quickly fading. I haven’t referred to myself as “bisexual” in years, choosing instead to simply love whomever I wish to love. Similarly, I don’t ask others to label themselves and am happy when the topic of sexual preference never comes up. For me it’s best when I live and love in the moment, label-free, regardless of whether we’re in bed or in a Mexican restaurant devouring guacamole.