You’d think I’d remember the night that I discovered that my would be-husband was also bisexual–that the relationship I was entering into was a bi-bi partnership. But I can’t. It probably seemed … normal.
Previous boyfriends had not been out as bi, but some had made out with boys and, well, all of them did things like borrow my jeans or gush over indie-boy hotties. I guess bisexual boys are my type.
My husband wouldn’t take this new knowledge as an opportunity to suggest swinging in suburban hotel rooms. That’s the thing about a bi boyfriend — he knows that same-sex fooling around is still cheating. We’re monogamous, but bisexuality didn’t die with the wedding. We’ve discovered ways within the relationship to explore our queer-ness.
I do find his bisexuality hot. It’s not that I’m into the fact that he’s into sucking c**k and Christian Bale. It’s that he’s done the work on himself to know his sexuality. When we’ve hung out with guy friends who’ve said something defensive about not being gay, he’s switched it into a positive conversation about sexuality and how he knew he was bi. It’s self-confidence. It’s being comfortable in your own skin. And that I’m into.
One Friday evening we took a visit to our local feminist sex shop. It’s the kind of place with non-threatening pastel walls and sample toys to fondle. Suddenly, we came upon it: a beautiful 7-inch, vein-y dildo. Made from silicone. It even had balls! My husband ran his finger along the shaft and I knew we were taking it home.
As the girl rang up our purchases, commenting “good choice,” my husband turned to me. “Is there anything we can get to appeal to your, uh, inner lesbian?” Rubber boobs seemed silly. Did they even make those? I had nothing.
There was now a floating dick in our possession, and a harness soon followed. But when I finally strapped it on I felt … awkward. When I looked down upon curvy hips and this floppy apparatus above my thighs, my crotch looked like Gonzo from “The Muppets.”
But I put on a wife beater, tied my hair back and started to feel kinda hot. Hiding the bouncy hard-on under flannel PJs, I surprised my husband with couch makeout sessions. In a flurry of kissing, my silicone member was suddenly in his mouth, he was into it. And to my surprise, so was I.
I liked taking on a more butch role. In my head I wasn’t a boy, but I was boy-like. And something about this did satisfy my “inner lesbian.” We made our way to the bedroom, and after a few positions found ourselves working up to anal penetration.
It was both romantic and weird. Being the one with the penis is so different. It’s powerful, having this thing to penetrate a vulnerable body part with. It also felt like an aspect of my bisexuality I never got right. I was terrible at taking control and picking up women. But now, here I was topping. And from this view, I really got his role and the vulnerability, openness and trust it takes to be the bottom in this equation.
While there was something in this sex that sparked my bisexuality, it was definitely for him. It was about his “half-fag.” But later, we came across something that would appeal to my queer parts too.
My husband’s eyelids were softly closed. Concentrating, I shaded his lids in black liner and mascara. I stepped back to assess my work, his face still quiet. “Done.” He opened his eyes and blinked, the dark lids coming together slowly, like those of a tiger’s.
The other thing about “my type” is they are pretty. I like boys who kind of look like lesbians. And my husband was a natural. We rolled around in bed and I swear he felt like a girl. All of the sudden he kissed like a girl. This did it for me. Maybe it was his bisexuality that made it. After all, would many straight guys be this open and cool about dressing in drag for their partner?
If anything, I feel like my hetero-paired marriage has made me more confident in my bisexuality. My husband agrees. Some people report only discovering their bisexuality when they are in the comfort of a committed relationship. Often, it is when we are in healthy sexual partnerships that we begin to really unravel what is hot to us, what makes us tick sexually and emotionally.
Being bisexual and married doesn’t mean this other side of you has to die inside monogamy. Sexuality is so much more than what happens in your bedroom. But there is something about the bi/bi fit that feels right. Maybe it’s the dynamic. I can be more masculine, more sexually shifty, so I need a guy who can keep up.
Photo: iStockphoto
Original by Rachel White
