hiddenmuse | Sunday Night Sex Show

Going to college was a great thing. I found books that discussed sex beyond the Organ Recitals, that went past my friends' complaints about awkward fumblings. In the spring of '92, I met up with a friend's older brother (he was about a year older than me), found out that french kissing isn't as bad as I thought it was, and that I really got turned on from kissing.

In the fall of '92, I got involved in an AIDS awareness/safer sex education group, and met a girl in one of my classes and became infatuated with her. I didn't know much about her, besides the fact that I thought she was really really cute - and that she seemed to have a crush on a male classmate. Then again, I had a crush on a male classmate - from a different class. I also had a crush on an immediate supervisor at work (HQ - a now-defunct hardware store), a gorgeous butch who had a girlfriend.

I'd spent the entire semester with that crush on MK, not sure if she'd even felt the same way towards me - or if she even knew that I existed. The following semester, we were in another class together, and I discovered that she did, in fact, have a crush on me as well. So, we started seeing each other - even if she did have a boyfriend. Around the same time, I ended up getting into a relationship with my friend, A. She was someone I'd had a crush on in Grade 12, and here it was, over 2 years later, and we were finally getting together. They were a study in opposites - in appearances and in terms of our relationships.

MK was blonde with blue eyes, politically liberal and very femme. A. had dark hair and eyes, was politically conservative and a closet butch. While my relationship with MK seemed to fall into this sort of egalitarian '70s lesbian feminist template for girl/girl relationships, my relationship with A. was fueled by long-standing lust and risked being volatile. I never slept with MK, it was mostly about making out in the Student Center, talking about feminist issues, and how she loved me, but couldn't sleep with me because she had a boyfriend. I did sleep with A., and felt horribly guilty afterwards. I'd lost my virginity, and was now damaged goods. No one would want me, because I'd made a spontaneous decision to have sex.

Since I was with girls, I decided that I must've been a full-on lesbian. No ifs, ands or buts about it. I was dating exclusively girls - give me that rainbow flag and sign me up for the Queer Nation, please. There was no way that I could be bisexual. You couldn't trust a bisexual as far as you could throw one. Everyone knew that. In my head, there was no room for gray areas. Everything was black and white. Either/or. No kinda-sorta-maybe-shoulda-coulda-woulda allowed here, missy.

If you've figured out that I was setting myself up for a huge fall - you're right.

First, it was my parents finding out somehow that I was queer. My mom asked me if I was "turning funny" on her, then told me that if I was gay, they couldn't accept my 'lifestyle', and that I wouldn't be welcome in their presence if I brought a partner around. Essentially, they were saying that I'd risk disownment.

Second, it was MK and I separating. I think we'd just reached a point where we realized that we had too many differences to continue a relationship, so it was a mutual decision. A. and I broke up right around the time of my birthday, because she'd gone back to an ex-girlfriend. To fuel the fires even more, I had a mutual friend trying to get into my pants because I was now available - while I still pined for A., to the point that I'd be willing to be the butch she apparently desired.

Third, a few months after the relationships had ended, I had met Dennis. Yes, me, the self-proclaimed babydyke, was falling for a man. I was becoming the one thing I abhorred so much in the past. Things between Dennis and I were hot and lusty - lots of phone sex, incredibly passionate kissing sessions - and the blinders instantly went on. Finally, a guy that actually liked *me*. I pretty much rescinded my outing to everyone, admitting that I'd met a guy, and therefore must've just been experimenting previously. My parents were happy - but warned me to be careful, and not go too far with a guy. They also didn't like Dennis, which only made me like him more.

I was so wrapped up in the lust that I didn't notice that he only liked me for sex, that he was emotionally abusive - to me, as well as family and co-workers, or that he was cheating on me because I wouldn't "go all the way" with him. I'd always had this bad feeling come over me if I'd contempted having sex with him. I didn't know what it was until after our relationship had ended - I just knew in my heart that he wasn't The One.

When our relationship became more tenuous, I dated a gay guy friend (until either one of us found someone else), and fooled around some with a bisexual transvestite (male) who had a fiancee. I went on antidepressants (Paxil), became hypomanic and very unafraid. If it weren't for my having enough credits to graduate college, I would've flunked out my last semester because I'd skipped class so often. I flashed a male co-worker at a record shop I'd worked at - because he'd dared me to do it. Dennis and I eventually did call it quits. Being the huge coward that he is - he did it by having his new girlfriend call my parents to break off the relationship. My parents didn't tell me that this happened, and I found out the hard way when I'd called Dennis one night ... and things weren't pretty at all.

Once that relationship had ended, I missed him. Even if I was finally aware of the fact that I was abused. But, I couldn't have been abused: I mean, he never hit me. He never forced me to have sex - everything was on MY terms in bed. Then, I realized that the verbal jousts at me, along with the emotional mistreatment - his passive/aggressiveness towards me -- that WAS abuse. Realizing that I was an abused woman really fucked up my worldview. I was a victim - but unaware of it. And I didn't miss him so much as I missed the sex. He was the first guy I'd slept with - I had control of our sexual relationship, even if he had the reins otherwise.

Being an idiot, I wound up in a rebound relationship that went so far as to my being engaged for 6 months. The engagement ended when we realized that we had too many irreconcilable differences to continue. It went beyond political ideologies and spiritual beliefs. He wanted to buy the house he lived in with his mum and live there (mum would of course be out of the house). He didn't want to have kids - and I was softening my stance towards having a family. Then, it got to where he didn't want to get married - he just wanted us to live together. So on and so forth. We stayed on speaking terms for a short while - until he called me and told me that he'd met someone else, and was starting to reconsider *his* stance on having a family. This was a major slap in the face, and I didn't talk to him after that.

The last time I'd had sex with anyone was in late June 1997. I can remember the sounds of the Gay Pridefest in the neighborhood. I was with a guy friend - someone I'd wanted to be with for a while, and someone who'd wanted to be with me as well. We'd gotten together on a Saturday afternoon, fooling around in his bedroom. It was awkward and frustrating for both involved - overblown expectations will do that.

Afterwards, on the way home from that failed tryst, I realized that I was making a huge mistake. I wasn't making love with any of the people I was with. We were screwing around. Fucking. There was no love - only sex. I wasn't happy at all.

~*To Be Continued*~