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AT THE BISEXUAL BALL

Dreamed 6/21/1997 by Chris Wayan

THAT EVENING

Party! My housemate Val's bobbed her hair and she's actually wearing a dress! Looks oddly delicate. Val says "I'm exploring my femme side."

She points out a stunning girl in a short gauzy dress, across the room. "That's Megan, my friend from Santa Cruz. She's bi, you ought to talk to her." Val's matchmaking instincts are right, I'm strongly attracted! Only... guess who's the ONLY girl I never talk to all evening? Oh, I tell myself "She's going back to Santa Cruz, what's the point?" But Val said Megan plans to move up here, so I know I'm making excuses. Shyness wins out--and I lose.

Instead, I talk to a butch friend of Val's with a lesbian peace tattoo. She teaches safe sex to teens. She complains "I can't ride in the dyke-bike parade because my motorcycle's a wussy model." Cylinder envy? Jeez. She's sweet but her goals are wildly alien to me. Status, presentation, style, things.

I envy only one quality: she's bi, in an open relationship... because she says so. "My girlfriend gets jealous, but that's her problem." Wow. So clear. She needs that freedom, she won't compromise on it. How many years till I learn THAT kind of confidence, such firm boundaries? Will I ever?

EVERYONE here seems so strong-willed! I feel like a doormat. One woman's brother came out years after her, and she's still a bit mad at his cowardice. I sympathize with him--they tortured me for being different, how can I demand others open themselves to persecution?

But maybe they're right. I'm alone because I'm afraid of being pulled by my over-soft heart in directions I don't want to go.

Harden my heart and find love? Maybe. Just maybe.

THAT NIGHT

A long, hazily-recalled dream, full of romantic intrigue, set in a sophisticated group where I feel a bit out of my depth.

I get a crush on a tall, clever, blonde bi-girl with multiple partners, open relationships. I feel immature and geeky around her, not up to her level of sophistication.. .but SHE finds me funny. And fun!

Eventually we end up in bed. Long, sweet, sexy games. Feels wonderful...

Bisexual blonde I met, who treats sex as a wonderful game, a sport. But I want love.
But I never come! Because she can't meet my deepest need: to love and be loved. For her, sex is just fun--the best sport in the world, but only a sport.

At last, I get out of bed. Not disappointed, not angry or stressed or sick or frustrated. Feeling cheated? No. Relieved and grateful.

For she's taught me a vital lesson: what I really need.



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