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  • My first year of gaydom: The last chapter (Part 5)
  • My first year of gaydom: The last chapter (Part 5)

      Oct. 30 The electricity is palpable. Our bodies undulate and press closer together in the dark club, faces just inches apart. It's all I can do not to collapse into M's beautiful mouth, drinking in kisses. It takes all my willpower to hold back. But she looks so hot in my gothic belly dance costume that I lent her for our Halloween clubbing adventure. Wait, but no -- N and I are just going out with her tonight as friends. She's getting over a brutal breakup and we're supporting her. Yet, I haven't felt this kind of burning desire and passion since T. Immediately part of me tries to feel guilty because I should feel like that towards my actual girlfriend. Because even if something does happen tonight, I know that it absolutely would not mean a thing. This is M. She is very much like T in a lot of ways. I think I understand certain things about her. And this probably means nothing.
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  • My first year of gaydom -- Heartbreak, grief and alcoholism (part 4)
  • My first year of gaydom -- Heartbreak, grief and alcoholism (part 4)

      Tuesday, March 30 I sit up entirely too straight on T's futon couch in her apartment as I balance my plate of dinner in my lap. I can feel the springs in the futon underneath my skin, trying to push through the fabric and into me. The sensation complements my nerves, boring their way through me. In my backpack lying next to the futon is my drawing notebook with the picture I had drawn last night of a woman curled up, hair falling over her face, a crying vodka bottle tipped towards her. A hand reaches out to her, but will she take it? Stuffed inside the book are the notes I've written out to help remind me what I want to say. Next to those is information that I've printed out on Alcoholic's Anonymous. I'm so scared.
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  • My first year of gaydom -- Things fall apart (part 3)
  • My first year of gaydom -- Things fall apart (part 3)

      I don't understand. Where is she? Why won't she respond to any of our calls or texts or IMs? She knows it's N's birthday today. I've been trying for a few days now to nail down whether she'd come over for both the party with our tribe of friends tonight and also tomorrow for time together just the three of us or just tomorrow. But she won't get back to us. I haven't been able to get a hold of her for the past few days, in fact. I don't understand. Last weekend was so amazing and we were intensely flirting all up through Wednesday. Then the last few days? Nothing. Nothing at all. Where could she be? I made N the best birthday cake yet in honor of the three of us. It's a threesome cake. I thought it would be funny. Our friends loved it. I had hoped T would be here for the party so we could all have some together. Luckily I made cupcakes, too, from the extra batter, so we had those tonight, and hopefully she'll come over tomorrow and we can have the cake. Earlier today I tried IMing her several times, finally trying to make her laugh while still making my point, saying, "Look at me! I'm invisible! Wheeee!!" But nothing. Finally, she texts back. 11:36 p.m. T: "Sorry you felt invisible" A moment later: "I think you and N need some time alone."
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  • Celebrating my bi-versary: The happy months (Part 2)
  • Celebrating my bi-versary: The happy months (Part 2)

      The Moby CD still softly sings to us on repeat in the background. Crisp, white hotel sheets drape over the three of our naked figures. I'm in the middle now, my husband's body curled around the back of mine. My fingertips lightly trace T's outline, trailing down her side, her hip, winding their way back up to cradle her head and stroke her hair in the morning's first few rays of light. I love these two people. When we're together I don't know if I could be happier. The words form in my head. In writing, this would be easy. I could write this scene perfectly, if I wanted. But real life is scarier. The songs flow one to another. I don't know if she's even awake. I have to. I want to. I hold her close to me and whisper in her ear. I love you.
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  • What would Batwoman do? A coming out story
  • What would Batwoman do? A coming out story

      Kate Kane is the kind of woman that I looked up to who helped me come out publicly, even though I didn't know of her character yet. I admire women who embrace their sexuality and aren't afraid if the world knows that they love women. These women, such as bisexual songwriter Ani DiFranco, helped me take those first steps. But of course, coming out is an ongoing process. Even after all the family and friends know, as well as anyone who finds their way to CLGBT, there are always other people haven't yet heard. Everyone important in my life has known since the first few months that I figured out that I'm bi and chose a polyamorous lifestyle with my husband. Family, friends, a few select "safe" co-workers -- that wasn't bad. New people in my life find out quickly, and if they can't deal, then well, I only just met them anyway -- although I have yet to run into someone who hasn't accepted it. And then, hey, if people find me through CLGBT, I figured that that was the best and most appropriate environment for that as it is, so I'm cool with that too. But then there are those stragglers. The ones you're not quite sure are safe or not. That's where Batwoman's courage is helpful.
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  • Lessons from a married couple's ex-girlfriend
  • Lessons from a married couple's ex-girlfriend

      Whenever we meet someone, we leave a fingerprint. We change everyone in some way. And we change ourselves, taking away some new lesson. Some new knowledge. I've learned a lot of things through my bisexuality. My ex-girlfriend, "T," taught me many of them. She was my first everything with a woman. My first date, my first kiss. My first girlfriend and my first female lover. The first woman I loved, and our first triad. She was beautiful and smart, independent and talented. She could fix anything mechanical or technological, and both her mind and body were sexy. She was also strong and weak, kind and cruel. She was guarded and vulnerable, mysterious and transparent. Blunt and evasive.
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