A Little TMI, and Major Adult Only Content!

Growing up I never really questioned my sexuality. I always knew I liked boys better than girls. In fact, I also liked boys for friends more than girls. That doesn't mean I didn't find girls a little bit attractive though.

I remember being six years old and going to a house down the road where two girls lived. One girl was a little younger than me, the other was probably seven or eight. I didn't hang out with them very often, in fact, it may have only been once, but I remember that we all took turns laying down and closing our eyes as another one of us would stick a sticker somewhere on her body and the person lying down had to guess where it was without opening her eyes. I'll spare you the details, but things got a little... sexual. It was at that young age that I realized that I was slightly attracted to girls. We also practiced peeing standing up that day too. I don't know if I really was any good or not, but I sure thought I was. I wonder how much pee I got on the floor?

Anyway, I didn't do anything else with a girl until the summer after grade 11. I had never questioned my sexuality during highschool, being thoroughly convinced that I was straight, but I also thought women were totally beautiful. That being said, I KNEW I liked guys, but I sort of wanted to know what it was like to make out with a girl. But we'll get back to that.

During most of elementary and high school, I was a what you would call a "tomboy".

When I was in the early grades, I HATED wearing dresses, because I couldn't run around and play with the boys as easily as if I were wearing pants. I LOATHED my father when he MADE me wear a dress or skirt at least two days a week. (Which, really, meant I had to wear a dress THREE days a week, because I had brownies right after school one day a week, and all the brownies would wear their dresses to school that day.)

When I was a pre-teen, I joined Navy Cadets, and insisted on being in the "guard" because then I wore the same uniform as the guys, and didn't have to have those silly bell bottoms showing.

In my early teens, I played lacrosse on an all boys team.

In high school, I would often dress grunge style and wear huge army boots or various other types of manly boots and would pair them with old man pants from the thrift store.

I always hung out with boys, and I was always dating a boy. The guys always felt me to be "one of them", and even though there was always one of them that I was making out with, the rest of the guys didn't seem to care. That was probably because they knew that they were most likely next, once the standard two week dating period was up.

I was a tomboy AND I was a slut. I knew what I liked and I went for it. Over and over and over. That being said, I was pretty naive about the actual act of intercourse. I knew all about the biology of it, but when the time came for me to actually have sex, I was still pretty confused. It had only been weeks before the big event that I had seen my first movie where people were having sex. Well, maybe I had before, but I must not have known what was going on, because that time, when I watched that movie, I caught myself thinking "You MOVE when you have sex?" Yeah, I knew about the p3nis entering the va&ina, but I really didn't know that there was more than just that initial penetrating move. Maybe that should have been the first clue that I was too young to have sex! I was fifteen when I actually lost my virginity, well before any of my female friends (yes, I had some female friends, just not as many as guy friends), but I had been quite sexually active for awhile before that.

I only had sex three times with that boy before he broke it off with me to get back with his ex. I had sex one more time when I was 16 with a different guy, and then didn't again until I was out living on my own, working, paying rent, and was 19. Ever seen "Clerks" though? Yeah, well, I was sort of like that guy's girlfriend, you know, the one he yells at "Try not to give anyone a bl0w jo6 on your way back to the car!" Yeah, that was me. All through high school I gave head freely, and pretty much did every act you can imagine except the one that could potentially get me pregnant. And I liked it. And, after a few tips from those guy friends I had, I became pretty good at that stuff, if I do say so myself. And I could org4sim. Right from the get go. I never had any problem enjoying myself.

But, because I was a tomboy, those guys who weren't in my inner circle had no idea that I got naked so easily. In fact, I was often referred to as a "butch", which to silly old me, just meant they were saying I was tough. I had no clue that they were inferring that I was gay. In fact, I got called a butch a LOT. But, it wasn't until well after high school that I realized that a butch was the more manly woman in a lesbian relationship. (If you've ever seen "Weatherman", then you'll know what I'm talking about when I say that I thought that I had something in common with the camel toe girl in the movie. The naive thing.)

Like I mentioned before, I had never questioned my sexuality while I was young. Not until a female friend of mine questioned my sexuality FOR me. My friend, we'll call her Heidi (feel free to out yourself in the comments if you want to) started to "come out" when we were in grade 10 (I think). She dated a couple of girls, but also went back to the odd boy. I'm guessing that she would have dated more girls if there were more girls available to date, but with the lack of selection, it's my theory that she just fell back on boys.

At one point, Heidi and I were dating guys who were best friends. During the time that Heidi and I were dating these guys, she started asking me about whether I liked girls, and such. The question had never really come up in my head before, because I KNEW I liked boys, regardless of how pretty girls were. But she made me think about it, and I decided that yeah, I could like a girl. I could make out with a girl. Then, one day, while the four of us were just chatting and hanging out on a bed, Heidi and I strategically placed ourselves so that I could *ahem* "finger" her. My boyfriend was also sort of fondling me at the same time, so I was totally turned on, but I wasn't able to differentiate whether it was the girl on girl stuff that I liked, or just the whole experience. Anyway, it was really neat to explore her. It sort of became less of a sexual interest, and more of a biology experiment as I swirled my finger around and felt the different female parts. She felt different than I did. The thing I remember most is that her cervix was more wrinkly than mine. After a time went by, and the guys really started to figure out what was going on, we kicked them out of the room and we kissed. The kiss itself was nice. I mean, she was an ok kisser, not too slobbery or anything, but I just wasn't into it. With the absence of my boyfriend fondling me, and the whole atmosphere we had created, the kiss just wasn't all that great for me. After the event, I freaked out. I felt like a total jerk. I had just cheated on my boyfriend, and I thought I LOOOVED my boyfriend. After Heidi and her boy left the house, I spent the next four hours crying and apologizing to my great boyfriend, who had started by being pissed off, but softened once he saw just how upset I was. I was sure I was going to get dumped, but instead we were able to make up and we dated until the beginning of that up coming school year.

I didn't have any more experiences with girls until after I graduated and started partying at bars. When girls dance at bars and get drunk, it doesn't take long for them to start rubbing against each other and to start kissing. That happened a couple of times, but nothing more occurred than that. Oh, and a completely random girl grabbed my ass over and over when I danced in front of her. HARD. She scared me. She scared me more than any guy who ever hit on me in a bar. (I should mention that after I graduated from high school, I was slowly becoming more feminine, and I would sometimes dress up to go out.)

For about two years starting when I was 19 or 20, I dated one guy on and off, and shortly there after, I went on a major sex spree with several different men. That all ended when I started dating Armondo.

However, my fascination with women was only really beginning when I started dating him. As Armondo and I got closer, I began to feel sexier and more confident. I also became much more feminine. He made (and still makes) me feel really good about myself. I was able to really start to grow more into myself, as I had felt sort of trapped and smothered in my last relationship. As I became more confident and sure of myself, I started to want to experiment more. One night, we brought a woman home with us from the bar. Armondo and I had only been together for a short period of time, but we were living together already. We brought home a girl who we were both friends with and who was one of those girls who I had bumped and grinded with on the dance floor. She seemed totally into getting it on with me, and laid one hot and sexy kiss on me in the car as we pulled into the driveway. It had already been made clear that she was for ME, and not Armondo, but that while us girls were making out, I was still fair game to him. Well, the three of us fell into my tiny little bed, and with me in the middle, the heavy petting began. And she fell asleep. In about five minutes. Apparently she was pretty drunk. Nothing else happened that night, and nothing happened with her since.

Over the years that Armondo and I have been together, I have often brought up that I would like to make out with a girl. And it wasn't too long ago that I had thought to myself that maybe, if I had met a wonderful woman, instead of this wonderful man, that I very well could have seen myself marrying a woman. That's right, it wasn't until a few months ago that I ACTUALLY questioned my sexuality. I wasn't thinking that I was full out gay, I was just questioning if I was, indeed, bisexual.

The women I find attractive though, they are womanly women. They aren't butchy, they aren't manly. They are beautiful, lovely, and feminine, yet still strong. And, I've never found a woman attractive who was a man hater. In short, I haven't found many lesbians attractive. Except most of the lesbians on "The L Word."

Recently though, I have really come to understand my sexuality. I am just plain sexual*. As far as the "sex" part goes, I could swing both ways. But as far as being in a relationship, I really, honestly don't think I could be with a woman. Sure, they're hot, but we women, we're crazy**. And really, putting two crazy beings together.. not such a good idea. You need that yin and yang thing. That being said, some lesbian couples would work out fine, because you get that more feminine woman with the more manly woman, and you get that yin yang thing there.

BUT, geez do I still want to make out with a woman!

So, not too long ago, I placed an ad on a local dating site looking for a woman. It didn't take long for me to find a very attractive, slightly older, married woman with children. She was just looking for "friends with benefits" and that suited me just fine. We met in person and seemed to hit it off. We were in a public place with all the children, as well as with her nieces and nephews, her mom and her mom-in-law! That was sort of weird, but as far as they all knew, she was just meeting a "friend". To make a long story short, we only hung out once, I was stood up several times, and I called the whole thing off.

During the week to two weeks that this little thing was going on, I went through all those gross self doubt, nagging feelings that I had been able to put behind me once Armondo and I got together. You know... "What if I'm not pretty enough?" "What if I smell funny?" "Is that ingrown hair noticeable?" "Should I shave my legs today, or wait until tomorrow?" "Do I sound like a dork?" etc.

So, after ending it with her, and going through all the "Why did she treat me like that, am I not good enough?" crap, I decided it just wasn't worth it to even consider being with a woman, 'cause I just didn't need to put myself though the torture, when I've got a perfectly good person who loves and satisfies me anyway!

Until someone else came along.

She's a fellow blogger. She's a bit older, and she's totally hot. She's married and has a kid. When I found out she had a crush on me, I was intrigued, and wanted to get to know her better. We email each other, we chat online, and we've been trying to make plans to visit and meet one another.

This is where I get stuck. Before she mentioned that she liked me, the thought had never occurred to me that I might like her. I found her blog writing to be good, but not overly personal, so I didn't get that same feeling of "getting to know" her as early as she felt she was getting to know me. It wasn't until she revealed her crush that I started to become slightly interested in getting to know her. It was at this point that I took the time to go through her flickr account to see some larger close up pictures of her, and at which point I was able to see just how gorgeous she is. She has a great smile, great skin and sparkling eyes.

She sort of surprised me with the admission of the crush, and it came on the heels of feeling so stupid about my last attempt at getting to know a woman "in that way". So, I started off quite guarded. Well, sort of. I admitted right from the start that I'd probably like to make out with her. As we got to know each other better, it started to be obvious that we were on different plains. Here was this beautiful woman who really, actually is truly bi-sexual, and she's falling in love with me, who, really just wants to 3at a woman 0ut. That's it. I just want to have sex with a woman.

One night, a married female friend and I went out and went dancing at the local gay bar. We went to that particular bar because a (straight) male friend of mine was D.J.ing that night, and he was trying to get as many of his friends out as possible. My friend was totally up for going to the gay bar, because she felt "safer" and figured she'd have more fun there than if we went to one of the other bars where half of the people are underage and it's just a total meat market.

It was that night that I started to get the real clue about how much my internet friend liked me. She admitted to me that she was sort of jealous that I was going to a gay bar. She didn't go into detail, so I can't really say whether she was jealous 'cause she wished SHE was able to go dance at a gay bar, or if she was thinking that I was going to the gay bar to go cruising. Regardless of what she was thinking, I assured her that I hadn't gone there to look for anyone, and explained about the D.J. friend.

By this time we were becoming good friends, and I really care about her in a friendly way. A lot. Like almost a best friend. And I love my best friends. So, when this woman sent me an email the other day telling me how beautiful I am, and how much she's falling in love with me, I didn't know how to respond. Using the words available to me in the English language, I could say the same thing to her, but I know it means something totally different. I love her too, and she's very beautiful, but I'm not falling "in love" with her. And my attraction to her, outside of the friendship part, is purely sexual.

At the time I responded to the email, all I could come up with was some lame-assed thank you. I think that hurt her. She poured her heart out to me, and I couldn't even offer her a well said truth. And for that, I'm sorry. But here, here in this post, is my truth. And I'm sorry it's not the truth you wanted, and I'm sorry that the end of this post turned into a post about you, and not just about me, and I'm sorry I can't be all that you want me to be. But I still think you're beautiful, and I like our friendship, and I really would like to meet you someday, and if you want to make out, then that's cool, 'cause gosh darn it, I've been waiting a REALLY long time to make out with a woman! But if you just want to hang out and be good friends, then that works for me too.

~With love and respect, your crazy Canuck.

*=only if I'm well fed, well rested, and not breastfeeding.
**=I'm totally including myself in this statement. And ALL women. It has to do with the hormones and the silly jealousy monster we have.