“So, who’s dating who?”
It was an understandable question. There were four of us at the dance that night. Suzie, the only one of us who actually owned a semi-formal dress, looked very feminine and flirty. There was Di, in her sensible knee-length black skirt; and Jessie, the girl who would do just about anything, looking (in Di’s word) “Seussian” in a red corduroy dress with black-and-white striped tights. Then there was me, glammed up in a tight, stretchy blue dress, hair pulled back by matching rhinestone butterflies.
Four women smoking together under the carport must have looked like two lesbian couples to the guy who came over to watch Jessie’s impressive Zippo tricks.
“Nobody’s dating anybody,” Di said. The only open lesbian of the group, she was our unofficial spokesperson. “We’re all just here as friends.”
I was dating someone, actually. But I’d found out about the off-campus, gay/lesbian/bi/trans-inclusive dance on short notice. My girlfriend already had plans to play guitar at a coffeehouse. But I didn’t let that ruin the evening. I was ready to party like it was 1999—because it was.
My alma mater, St. Mary’s, has a coed “sibling school” across the interstate, Notre Dame. In the late ’90s, the students and faculty of Notre Dame were split into two factions. The faction in power at ND believed that, as a Catholic school, Notre Dame could not be seen as in any way endorsing anything gay/lesbian/bi/trans. The school reserved the right to fire professors for being gay or lesbian, and wouldn’t endorse the GLBT student group. The other faction wanted sexual orientation added to the school’s non-discrimination policy and backed the student group.
The unofficial, unendorsed GLBT student group was called OUTReach ND, and they were sponsoring the dance. I belonged to a student group called the Feminist Collective. The Collective had received the dance invitation from OUTReach ND. The dance was held far off-campus, in the nearby city of Mishawaka. The historic mansion turned B&B once belonged to a family of wealthy industrialists. There are suits of armor on the front porch, and the bar has clouds painted on the ceiling. It was both fancy and schmancy. You could tell, because smoking was only allowed in the car port.
“So,” the cigarette-bumming guy said, “are you all gay, or what?”
“I’m not gay,” Di said. “I’m a lesbian. Having a separate label from gay men emphasizes that lesbians have their own separate and equal identity.”
The guy nodded his head, then asked me and Suzie, “Are you lesbians, or what?”
Although I knew I liked boys, when I came to St. Mary’s and took Intro to Psych as a freshman, I happened upon the Psych textbook’s definition of bisexuality. It said something like, “A person who engages in sexual behavior with people of both sexes; a person who is physically attracted to people of both sexes.” Hey, that’s me, I said to myself. Huh. All this time I thought it meant guys with mustaches, like Freddy Mercury.
Four women smoking together under the carport must have looked like two lesbian couples to the guy who came over to watch Jessie’s impressive Zippo tricks.
“Nobody’s dating anybody,” Di said. The only open lesbian of the group, she was our unofficial spokesperson. “We’re all just here as friends.”
I was dating someone, actually. But I’d found out about the off-campus, gay/lesbian/bi/trans-inclusive dance on short notice. My girlfriend already had plans to play guitar at a coffeehouse. But I didn’t let that ruin the evening. I was ready to party like it was 1999—because it was.
My alma mater, St. Mary’s, has a coed “sibling school” across the interstate, Notre Dame. In the late ’90s, the students and faculty of Notre Dame were split into two factions. The faction in power at ND believed that, as a Catholic school, Notre Dame could not be seen as in any way endorsing anything gay/lesbian/bi/trans. The school reserved the right to fire professors for being gay or lesbian, and wouldn’t endorse the GLBT student group. The other faction wanted sexual orientation added to the school’s non-discrimination policy and backed the student group.
The unofficial, unendorsed GLBT student group was called OUTReach ND, and they were sponsoring the dance. I belonged to a student group called the Feminist Collective. The Collective had received the dance invitation from OUTReach ND. The dance was held far off-campus, in the nearby city of Mishawaka. The historic mansion turned B&B once belonged to a family of wealthy industrialists. There are suits of armor on the front porch, and the bar has clouds painted on the ceiling. It was both fancy and schmancy. You could tell, because smoking was only allowed in the car port.
“So,” the cigarette-bumming guy said, “are you all gay, or what?”
“I’m not gay,” Di said. “I’m a lesbian. Having a separate label from gay men emphasizes that lesbians have their own separate and equal identity.”
The guy nodded his head, then asked me and Suzie, “Are you lesbians, or what?”
Although I knew I liked boys, when I came to St. Mary’s and took Intro to Psych as a freshman, I happened upon the Psych textbook’s definition of bisexuality. It said something like, “A person who engages in sexual behavior with people of both sexes; a person who is physically attracted to people of both sexes.” Hey, that’s me, I said to myself. Huh. All this time I thought it meant guys with mustaches, like Freddy Mercury.
I really enjoyed this article. As a bisexual/heteroflexible woman who was married for a long time, I often had that "Of course you're hetero" experience from others.
But what I really want to know is: Where do I get my bisexual jeans?!
Nice article!
Lol, everything is great you really enjoy sex!
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I need those jeans!
I think I have a pair or two of those jeans, but I try not to wear them too much around my boyfriend, out of respect for him. However, they're favourites of mine!