Well let me let you in on a little secret: being impartial is hardly ever a case of tasty extras on the side of some happy meal deal.
Sometimes it feels as though I’m in a one woman freak show; in a two fruit juggling act…the banana impossible to catch for any length of time and the papaya far too frequently bruised… and all the while not knowing which comes more instinctively and which to lend more time to.
And who are the audience to feel informed enough to tell me what to do?
This is the life I chose… it has nothing to do with what your mother and father taught you.
Straight loving, urban living, gay clubbing punters say… Ooh juggling must be fun…I wish I could enjoy more than… one. You must feel like a kid in a candy store, having the entire populous at your hands.
…like somehow my condition entails a whole new trendy super-sexual and fundamentally easy set of emotional demands.
Well let me tell you of the personal agenda swaying on its stilts for lack of solid soil to stand. Bisexuality is not a euphoric phase of nymph-like dwelling from Adam to Eve.
For many it’s a place of confusion where cunt and heart switch turns in a game of Ill at Ease… where pride becomes prejudice and prejudice, pride and while you never intended to fall into place you can’t help but find yourself forever… on the other side.
Image “No Confusion” taken from KlemenRobnik‘s Flickr account under Creative Commons License