Since I have been mature enough to think about such things, I have believed that something in our make-up (meaning DNA or genes, not lipstick and mascara) makes us bascially gay or straight. But I also believe that there is a huge spectrum of attraction, in between, that we are all capable of. I don’t think that any one is 100% either way. They may be, in practice. That’s true of both sides. There are guys who would eat fire before eating dick, and just as many who would stick their dick in a shredder before a pussy. But, in reality, I think everyone can appreciate the finer points of others. It just depends on where you fall on the spectrum. I also think we can slide around a bit on that spectrum, depending on environment, the choices you’re faced with, all kinds of things – even how bad you need it.
I got to thinking about all of this because of the evening I had last night. I’m not sure what label to put on the series of events. The only suitable word I can come up with is “interesting.” But that’s the word you always use when you don’ know quite what to say. But I will say this. That spectrum? I was all over it.
One of the guys I work with is getting married next weekend. The wedding is going to be out of town, so the other guys on the crew decided to have a little celebration for him this weekend. A bunch of good ol’ boys honoring the last days of bachelorhood means three things: a little bit of weed, a fair amount of beer, and a whole lot of titties. Add to that the NCCA tourney and you’ve got a trip to Hooters. So, I found myself on the straight end of my spectrum, hanging out and getting rowdy with the knuckleheads I work with. I passed on the weed, partook of the basketball and brew, and admittedly, enjoyed the titties. The mix of alcohol, high testosterone levels, sex talk, and not getting laid in months, took me back to my teenage years when I was way into pussy. Maybe it was the full moon, but my cup starteth to runneth over. I have not been with a woman in years and although I can still find them physically attractive, the attraction is much stronger to guys and the ladies just are no longer a part of my “practice.”
So, after Kentucky once again shattered Utah’s dream of the Final Four, I left the gang and swung my pendulum over to the other side of the scale (and by that time, my pendulum was swinging heavy!) and went to a gay bar. I had enough beer in me to be feeling pretty good about myself. I had on my boots and my “good” jeans (the ones that are a little baggy, but still mold to shapes) and decided to go for broke by stripping off my top shirt down to a sleevless undershirt. I was horny as hell and titties were not going to do.
I hardly ever go to bars. So, unless I go with someone I know, I usually end up standing against the wall by myself, watching the world go by. Last night was no different, except a few people were paying attention as they went by. That’s not typical. Maybe it was the beer-induced confidence, maybe it was the “good” jeans, but I was finally getting some attention. Not enough attention for anyone to actually talk to me. But a few stares and smiles. But then someone else’s pendulum swung and everything changed.
Talk about the scales tipping. He was taller than me. Not something I run into a lot. And very well built. He came over and spoke to me. He said he was new to the whole thing (even though he is 40ish), but that he felt like he could talk to me because I appeared to be as uncomfortable as he was. (And here, I thought I was the picture of confidence. Just goes to show you.) We talked for a long time, and ended up going somewhere else to talk. For a long time. In the end, he thanked me for the company and told me how nice it was to meet another guy who was nice and bisexual. WHAT??? I never said to him that I was bisexual, and its not the way I identify myself. I guess because he met me in a gay bar and I told him I had been at Hooters before, he made the leap that I am bisexual.
I cleared it up for him, but it’s still funny how we let surroundings and behavior dictate our perceptions about people. All in one evening I was identified as straight, gay, and bisexual. You can’t judge a book by its cover. It’s all about the content, baby, not the context.
And, in case you are wondering (and I know you are) even as horned up as I was, we didn’t round all the bases. The more I got to know him, the less I wanted to jump his bones. Don’t get me wrong. I really liked him and he was pretty hot. I’m thinking there may be room for more than just jumping bones. I can wait.