You know when I say that, something happened. I’m ashamed to admit that “I went to a bar,” tends to be the prologue to some very new, and intense experiences for me. This one is no exception.
I went to a bar in Rennes, France with my Master. The love of my life. We were invited to sit at a table with a bunch of strangers. They were colourful, alternative people. The language barrier wasn’t going to be an issue. I speak enough French, but also, I know their kind. I am one of them. They smile often. They enjoy people. They see the good in life. A little piece of home. Not colour. Not gender. Just who is smiling back.
I sat beside her first, thinking nothing of the evening or what could transpire. I was in the present. After a round of darts, foozball, and several pints, I’d noticed Master J and her take interest in each other. I’m not saying it was sexual. I’m just saying it was evident: something was there.
Her dark, thick curls brought out the freckles in her face…but not as much as the contrast illuminated her blue eyes. Her energy was contagious. Her smile drew people in. One of them being him. The man I love.
To the disappointment of many, I won’t go into details about the night we had with her; however, I will say this…
I watched Master J fuck another woman. Not in the way we always imagined it would be. There was no domination. No submission. It was our way of opening doors to each other, her and us. Getting to know each other’s bodies, and their desires, without pressure or restraints (literally). And through this experience, I watched Master J in a way I’d never seen him, but always felt…being sensual with someone.
I know how my man moves. I know how he feels, tastes, smells, but until this moment, I’ve never understood the beauty of what he does; the way he fucks a woman.
I will admit, the few days after this experience, I fell into myself. It’s been a rollercoaster of emotions, which I’d expected. The jealousy came 24 hours later, but so did this unquenchable lust for Master J. We had more sex in the 72 hours after this experience than…ever! He jokes now that we should have sex with women more often, just so I always want him that bad. The animal brain was alive and working; she needed the reassurance, the reinforcement that he was still mine. Even if my human brain knew it.
But that isn’t what this is about. Perhaps I’ll write specifically about my feelings in a separate post – the good, the bad, the ugly (it wasn’t all smooth). No, right now, I’ll focus on this…
It seems appropriate since it’s Pride Month, and perhaps this is the greatest tribute I can give to it. I’ve been using the term “heteroflexible” when referring to myself and my sexual orientation, minimizing the truth and what really goes on inside of me. This woman changed that.
After the sex had finished, this woman fell into my arms. I held her. Not Master J. She cuddled into me, and we kissed. Several times. It was gentle, it was different. It was what I needed then. Perhaps that was the source of much of my pain the following days…As a species that is so dependent on labels, naturally I began reconsidering mine.
I am not heteroflexible. I am bisexual. And when I wrote to a friend after the experience, revealing my fear – the fear I try so desperately to remove from other people that are learning to embrace their sexual identity – she said to me…
“You’ve liked the female form since you were young. It doesn’t surprise me…I’m proud of you.” And I realize there are layers of this “coming out.” The fear, the uncertainty of the world’s acceptance…and for me, the dichotomy between liking a woman, and trying to figure out if I’m okay that my man likes her, too.
Our love will never be broken. I can say that with confidence. And what happens next will be something we decide together. But at least for now, I can be honest with myself, and you, readers, that yes…I am bisexual. And yes, I like a girl…
Until next time,