There's a cute 20-something skater chick who hangs out at my karaoke bar, I flirt with her and she doesn't seem to mind. She once told me she thinks I'm pretty, so that's good. She's met my husband, and I know she recently got dumped by the guy she was dating. Anyway, tequila made me bold last night, and I asked her if she'd go with me sometime to that sexy desert bar down the street (we were talking about how much we liked it.) She replied yes, we could go whenever I like, Facebook her.
Could this be "a date?" It's so hard to tell with women. If a man asks me to hang out (unless he's gay, married to a friends, or a friend of my husband's) I just assume he's interested in me. But with another woman, there's all kinds of vagueness. Not that it wouldn't be fun to bond with skater-girl as just friends over chocolate and wine, but I would love there to be that spark.
Honestly, all my love affairs with other women have been fraught with unrequited feelings and misaligned expectations. My first female love was senior year of high school, Sookie, breaker of many male hearts. We were always flirting, touching, making out in front of each other's boyfriends. The summer before college when my parents were out of town, the night we'd all but said we were going to make love, I confessed that I was in love with her. That changed everything. Though she lay in bed beside me every night for the rest of the week, treating my broken heart with unbelievable gentleness, all making out and flirting ceased, and sex was definitely off the table. I have never suffered such incredibly painful longing as being 18 years old, lying in bed beside Sookie, not allowed to touch her.
Shortly after moving to Manhattan, I met Missy. We were just 20 years old, each other's first female lover. We were joined at the hip for 3 months, then she took a job as a stripper, her personality started to change, she mentioned she'd gone out with some guy, then she just stopped returning my calls. I never got an explanation or closure. I was heartbroken.
Sonya came along the next year, and we made love, fought, and shared other lovers for over a year and a half. She loved me dearly, but not in the same passionate, romantic way she loved Jimmy. During our billionth bout of me weeping because she wanted Jimmy more than me, she told me, "Even if there were no Jimmy, it wouldn't be you. I'm not gay." Being with Sonya, I often had the same feeling of frustrated longing I recognized from my failed attempt at love with Sookie. I could have Sonya's body, and her friendship, but her heart and her passion belonged to a man.
Then, last year, Coco. She made it so clear that I could have her if I wanted her, and I wanted her, so badly I fought to open my marriage. I knew from the first kiss I was going to fall hard. For the first few months, she let me believe she was available for a real relationship with intimacy and responsibility. Really, she just wanted me for a fuckbuddy, and an accessory. I don't know if I should blame my gender, my marital status, or her personality disorder, but I felt she emotionally abused me even worse than she emotionally abused the single guys she dated. The strange, sick longing that overtook me in Coco's presence was familiar from years ago with Sookie and Sonya.
Is it because my mother was rather cool towards me that my pattern with women is so dysfunctional? I attract some amazing bisexual woman, we make love, talk, laugh, emotionally bond and have something that feels like a relationship. I fall in love, and she doesn't. Then I hurt, and I obsess, and I cling. Is her bisexuality different than mine? Is she incapable of loving another woman in that way, or just incapable of loving me? I've had many more relationships with men than I have with women, even bisexual men, and none have been as painful and confusing. What's up with that? Maybe I just understand the game I'm playing with men better. With women, I just surrender.
I will wait a couple of days before Facebooking skater-chick. In the meantime, I will work on deconstructing any expectations I might have. She's much younger than me and might not even be bisexual, and even if she is, she might not be bisexual in the same way I am, and even if she is, she might not choose to be with me. It's cool if nothing ever comes of it, at least I stepped out of my comfort zone. Anything else is cake, right?
Early 40's female, bisexual.