We are gradually moving away from defining people by their sexual preferences. That’s wonderful, right? We really have no reason to care about another person’s preference. Yet, when I take personal inventory in the sense of, “How do I feel about …?,” I do find some interesting results.
For example, if the woman I’m dating tells me she’s into women, I’m not bothered; heck, I’m downright gleeful, as long as she’s also into me. I admire this woman. She has twice as many options as I do. Granted, if she has taken on a female lover because of a sexual inadequacy on my part, that’s disturbing. I’d want to fix that shit … yesterday. But, if she occasionally enjoys a female touch, I understand and concur whole-bonerly.
When I spin this arrangement, things become curious. I bet my woman would not be as comfortable if I confessed to liking the occasional sausage in my sexual diet. Why? Is it an internal thing? Is it because she’s worried about my sausage being dirty places? Fine. What if I’m a bottom-only boy? Would she approve? Perhaps. I suppose she could strap one on and deliver the goods. Still, she almost certainly won’t be tickled over the concept.
Aside from having twice the choice in partners, the other perceived benefit to bi-sexuality is the possibility of a threesome. Yes, I realize that is possible with straight people, but I’m not referring to what I call shish kabobbing. The more enjoyable threesome (never had one, piss me off) would have each of the three players involved with the other two. A friend insists they don’t work because somebody gets more attention, causing jealousy.
So, as legendary as it would be for Mr. Straight to be with two bisexual ladies, I’m predicting it would be a bit ew-y if it were a straight woman with two bi males. Look, I know I’m a naive rookie in this arena. Am I off base? I think not.
I just find the whole sex thing interesting. The best part is where the line is drawn because it’s unique for each of us. The worst part is I think about this shit all day, and don’t get my goddamn laundry folded before it wrinkles.
One more rant.
How would you feel, ladies, if you came home to find your man having sex with the neighbor’s 18-year-old daughter and her friend? Shitty, right? Oh, he’s definitely getting the boot. Fine. What if he’s masturbating while spying on those two making a lick soufflé? A serious offense, no doubt, but possibly not terminal. What if you catch him in the shower backing into a suction cupped dildo while screwing a fleshlight? (Sort of a threesome.) That’s some prime kinkery right there, but I’m not sure you’d shut him down. Finally, what if you caught him judging a two-headed dildo tug of war? He’s not involved in the competition. He’s just watching carefully to see which side of the bed the center flag crosses. Oh, and he’s wearing zebra stripes and has one of those fancy ring whistles. I see you wrinkling your nose. Whatever.
Can we all agree to be less uptight about this? It’s just a little pleasure between friends—scratching an itch for a buddy, so to speak. Like after a hot shower, heavy bong hit, or Cadillac margarita, we’re all happier after an orgasm. How we get there is nobody’s business.
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