Local Lust: The plight of the bisexual

The thing is, men grow scratchy hair on their faces and usually I just want a soft cheek to press against. But women, with their soft cheeks, don't often have hard muscles beneath their t-shirts to press against. I come up against these discrepancies over and over; I call them conundrums.

Goes like this: How can I---one person on a complicated Kinsey scale---get everything I want? How do I reconcile what one sex has with what the other one is missing? Can I have my cock and eat pussy, too?

Years ago, I assumed bisexuality as the most fitting label for my various desires (the 2010 politically correct equivalent: omnisexual). I threw it in a philosophical pot with polyamoury, in attempts to avoid the tug of something always missing, something incomplete. But, polyamoury---the most up-to-date, hippest way to love!---left me feeling greedy and selfish and, ironically, rather lonesome. I'm glad it's out there, getting people loved and laid, but it doesn't make my orgasms better, my emotional needs more fulfilled, my yearnings less distracting.

I hear about all of these fish in the sea. Well, I have been swimming through the oceans hoping to find my mate, not knowing whether it will be a girl fish or a boy fish or a girl-boy fish. I have been trying to let go of the cons and pros, you know. Compromise. I got me a dildo. Silicone doesn't come with testosterone, though; in fact, silicone doesn't come at all. And sometimes lesbian bed death could use that particular hormone. Yes, it is nice to feel someone crave me so much that he might explode. But, you know what men don't have? Breasts. Slender wrists. Necks I wish to sink my teeth into.

It's not all about body parts---communication, too, is different. Admit it: The emotional landscape is different. When I'm with a woman I miss the disparity between the sexes, being able to fold myself into a dynamic in which I retain a bit of mystique. With men, I begrudge that mystique. I wish they could just read my facial expressions already, hear the tones in my voice as well as my best friend can.

Where is the green grass? Green grass! The plight of this bisexual continues.

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