The Teacher, Red Delicious, and Bi-Girl Syndrome

reddelheartThere’ve been all KINDS of exciting developments between now and the eight first dates I managed to complete in ten days’ time recently.  And this is the one I’m happiest about:  The Teacher slept with someone other than me!

He arrived at my apartment on Monday afternoon with a great big grin on his face.  This is one of the most endearing things about the Teacher, the look on his face when he sees me.  “You look nice,” he said, and we went straight to bed.  “So,” he said, “you want to hear about my date?” Of course I did.  His description of the afternoon they spent together was quite detailed, and I was getting bored.  “Get to the sex part!” I teased him, knowing that sex on the first date was highly unlikely for the Teacher.  And he blushed a lovely scarlet.  “That was later,” he said.  “Baby!” I yelled, “WOO HOO!”  I covered him in kisses.  “You know,” he said to me, “condoms aren’t THAT bad.”

I was amused.  The Teacher and I haven’t used condoms, see, since our first night together.  I let him make that decision with the full knowledge that I had other partners.  Since he doesn’t sleep with anyone other than me, and birth control is already double-covered, he felt it was fine to go without … so he’s had sex while wearing one exactly twice.  “Also,” he said to me, smiling at my joy on his behalf, “I got to be the experienced one.”  That made me throw back my head and laugh.  “I love you,” I told him, and for the first time, he didn’t echo me immediately.  I smiled inwardly.  I have little doubt about the Teacher’s feelings for me, and I respect his choice to save that for his new girl.  They are great for each other, from what I can tell, and I hope it works out.

I feel great about this, even though it will probably lead to the Teacher dating his new girl exclusively and the end of our (sexual and romantic, at least) relationship.  I’ve been on the receiving end of this sort of breakup before.  Single fellas meet me and think I’m wonderful, cannot believe I am also single, and are sure that my having other partners won’t bother them.  Most are pretty excited about the freedom to pursue other girls while also enjoying a relationship.  Ultimately, though, most of these single guys meet someone who wants the same thing they want – an impenetrable twosome.  It’s not that I don’t see the appeal.  It’s just that I’m quite picky about who I twosome with.  So the fellas move on with their new exclusive girls, and we always part on good terms.  Occasionally I have mixed feelings about it, but not this time.  I can see the Teacher marrying this gal, and I hope I dance at their wedding.  Aww.

Enough about his dating life, though.  This blog is ALL about me.  And I’m two things: uncertain and excited.  I’m positive you know what I’m talking about: that kind of interest in someone new that’s uncomfortable and thrilling and uncomfortably thrilling.  Red Delicious and I met for dinner last week, and almost immediately fell into the kind of conversation two people have when they have eighteen things to say.  She was warm, funny, honest, and instantly accessible in the way that people only can be who are comfortable with themselves one hundred percent.  Authenticity is the one thing I’m non-negotiable on.  Red Delicious has it in spades.  She also has gorgeous long auburn hair, and piercing green eyes that glow when she’s delighted.  We have tons to talk about, and we’ve laughed most of the time we’re together, on our two dates.  I love being so engaged in a conversation, and I love talking to someone smarter than me.

Thursday, we gave a hug and went happily our separate ways to our cars after goodbye, having already planned for Tuesday.  And last night, well, I think I muffed the goodbye there.  We’d driven in her car to a coffee shop, and she was dropping me back at mine. Without thinking, I jumped out and leaned down to say what a good time it had been.  Even before I had that sentence finished, I was frustrated that I hadn’t stayed in the passenger seat for a minute longer and taken a look in Red’s eyes – because I’d have loved to end the evening with a kiss or two.  We also failed to make a future date, even though I think we both would like to – again, probably my fault for leaping out of the car.

Since I’ve done dozens of them, you’d think I’d have this first/second/third-date-type stuff down.  I’d like to say that this one can be chalked up to a simple execution error, but I think it’s more of a trend.  After all, when the Biomed Engineer (we dated for six months this winter) dropped me off at my car on our second date, we accomplished the front-seat first kiss, awkwardly twisted torsos and all.  I’m a bit of a first kiss expert, even, and I can usually read my date’s face well enough to know if they’re thinking along the same lines I am.  If they are, I have no trouble making the first move.  Unless, of course, my date is a woman.  Everything else is the same – I want a kiss, I can tell that she does … and I fail to make it happen.

I’m a little bit baffled by this shyness.  “Shyness”, even, since I am the farthest thing from shy.  I’m almost never dumbfounded this way with a man.  So … why?  I have no doubts about my bisexuality.  In high school, I had one boyfriend and one girlfriend.  Ever since, I’ve had bunches of each.  The only thing I can come up with – and it’s a very uncomfortable thing – is that with men, I let traditional gender roles take the pressure off.  By ascribing responsibility for the first kiss to my date if he’s a man, I make it easier for myself to make the first move.  Or perhaps it’s that gender stereotypes allow me to be less concerned about a lack of desire on my date’s part if he’s a man?  Probably both.  And this stuff happens in my mind instantly, subconsciously, and it causes about thirty seconds of hesitation … which kills the moment.  Every time.  The thing is, the girls aren’t kissing me, either.

In that long moment, the women I’m with are paralyzed too with hesitation.  And these women are all bisexual, like me.  I have almost never dated a woman who sees women exclusively.  Many lesbians shun other women who also date men.  And enjoying the company of men and sex with men is part of me, no matter who I’m currently dating.  for these reasons, I am almost always dating other bisexual women.  I love it – they almost always understand me perfectly, and they are naturally the best people-watching companions ever.  So all my dates with women are the combination of two bisexual girls.  And when we want to kiss each other, intend to, even, something makes us halt and hesitate.  I’m calling it Bi-Girl Syndrome, and I’ve had it as long as I can remember, thinking back.  I can’t remember a female partner who hasn’t also had it, and it reminds me of one extreme example that makes me laugh.

My friend the Writer and I had long admired one another, and the timing was never right.  Finally all the pieces fell into place, and we went on a wonderful date and greatly enjoyed each other.  Afterward, we sat on my couch, our face inches apart for hours – and never managed even so much as a goodnight kiss.  When we talked again next, we said what a mistake that had been, that we’d been wanting to sleep together for ages, and we shouldn’t have let anything stop us.  And we made another date, that was equally wonderful … and sat on the couch again, waiting.  I couldn’t take it, all of a sudden, and stood up and pulled my dress over my head.  I reached for the Writer’s hand, and she smiled at me as I led her to my bedroom, where she undressed in about five seconds flat, with zero hesitation.  And the Writer and I had a GREAT night together.

Bi-Girl Syndrome only affects that first move – but, oh, its effects are strong.  Last weekend, when Eve and I went on our first date, we each hesitated in the span of almost an entire minute, trying to clear the BGS hurdle, and we didn’t, in the end.  Tonight is my second date with Eve, and I’m promising myself to overcome my hesitation.  READERS:  hold me to it.  ; )

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