Bye, Bye, Bi
Coming out as bisexual is like telling your parents that you want to be a princess when you grow up. Mommy might nod and tell you that’s a great, plausible choice that she accepts because she’s no bigot, but when you actually grow up, the only way you’re going to label yourself a princess is via a pink velour track suit with the word printed on the seat in rhinestones. Like such a track suit, bisexuality is laughable. No one will take you seriously while you’re wearing it.
And like the people being blinded by your sparkly derriere-vocab-of-the-day as they walk behind you at the mall, many might also wonder about bisexuality: “Is this for real?”or “I thought this trend fizzled in the late ’90s.”
Well, like the… unique… individuals who just want the public to enjoy some light butt-reading, bisexuality is just myth-understood.
Bisexuals are attracted to both genders 50/50. An even split is impossible, so everyone leans towards “gay” or “straight.” Bisexual means that you’re attracted physically or emotionally to both men and women. How you divvy that up is a personal preference and might vary depending on the day/year/moon/sexual activity.
Bisexuals are just confused. They’ll choose a side eventually. Lady Gaga’s already confirmed that we’re born this way.
Bi today, gay tomorrow. Bisexuality’s just a pit stop. Sexuality is fluid and, sure, sometimes it flows that way, but some people will just forever want both peanut butter and jelly in their sandwiches because it’s tastier like that.
They say they’re bi because it’s easier than being gay. Having people constantly viewing your sexual identity as waffling, unstable or temporary doesn’t seem easier to me. Also, if we could love people based on convenience, romantic comedies wouldn’t exist.
Bi people are slutty, swinging freakazoids. They’ll take it anyway they can they can get it. Also, they love threesomes. A person’s sex drive and permissiveness isn’t determined by their sexual identity. And who doesn’t love a good menage?
I’m bisexual because of that time in Cancun. Bisexuality isn’t a side effect of too many Coronas. Let’s not belittle it.
Bisexuals are transphobic. The word “bisexual” implies two genders. Many in the queer community know that gender, like sexuality, is fluid and doesn’t need to exist only as male or female. People may identify as “queer” instead of “bisexual” to reflect this belief. Some bisexuals might argue, however, that the “bi” in their “bisexual” refers to “male spectrum” and “female spectrum” to include all gender expressions.
Bisexuals can never be monogamous; they invented polyamory for their convenience and you’ll be left heartbroken if you ever marry one. Bisexual people leave their partners because they’re emotionally neglected or their partner’s changed for the worse, and, sure, if they’ve fallen in love with another. So does everyone else.
Only women are bisexual. Well, only bisexual women are eroticized/exploited in mainstream porns. Good porn starring bisexual men is rare. (Two dudes going at it with one woman doesn’t count, especially if they high-five.) However, the recent pop-culture trendiness of bicurious men does give me hope—especially when that hope is Alexander Skarsgard as True Blood’s Eric Northman. Yum.
Unlike Hottie McFangBangMeHotterson, bisexuality isn’t (un)dead, but many people pretend it doesn’t exist because when it comes to sex, gray areas scare them. They want dating dos and don’ts; tricks that’ll guarantee orgasm. They want to know if they’re “normal” or kinky. They want to know if they’re “gay” or “straight” and, more importantly, they want to know which one you are, too.
Humans relate to each other by categorizing, and while “bisexual” seems like a legitimate category to me, it’s not black or white, nor is it made obvious by whom you’re currently bleeping. If others can’t see it, it mustn’t be real, right?
So if I plan on having my wifey for lifey but I remain attracted to, fantasize about and own plenty of porn starring men, is the only way to be out and proud about my sexual identity to glue faux jewels to all my britches? Well, that depends—does Eric Northman own a hot glue gun?