I love women. Absolutely adore them. Something about women is so appealing that it is truly unfair. Don’t get me wrong, men are great — I love myself a good man, that’s not a question. They have a certain “je-ne-sais-quoi.” But if I had a choice, I would choose women. That’s a quick, easy and simple decision to make. One I could make in a heartbeat. But we all know that’s not how it works.
I don’t label my sexuality, I don’t believe there is a point. If anyone asks, my response is always the same: “I’m open to situations.” It’s been the same response for about six years and it’s not going to change any time soon because, to be completely honest, those four words are my way of saying: “it’s none of your damn business.” No matter what my sexuality is, it is none of anyone’s damn business.
Let me just say that again — for the people in the back who want to ignore me.
I am not looking for a threesome to experience both at once. I don’t need “good dick” to know that I like men. And I definitely DO NOT need to tell an over-eager young man with sex-hungry eyes and a vivid imagination information about my sexuality. No thanks.
Now that that’s out of the way, there is always speculation that all women are a little bit bi-curious. Ladies (and gentlemen), I don’t know about any of you, but I think women are the most entrancing and powerful things to walk the earth. They are graceful and gorgeous. Women are angels. I am in awe. I get girl crushes maybe once a month — minimum. I appreciate a good-looking woman as much as the next person. The same way that I can appreciate a fine-as-wine, scrumptious man. And that appreciation may not mean that I am questioning my sexuality or even curious about same-sex relations. It could simply be an appreciation.
But there are some women, that I become so infatuated with. Like holy moly lemon pie. There are some women that I would whole-heartedly, no doubt in my mind, give my left leg to, if I could take them on a date or even have a one-night stand with. I would happily say thank you.
I’m not going to lie, when it comes to women, I have a type. There is a specific type of woman that has me weak in the knees. I can’t even explain it. In the simplest terms, if you look like Ruby Rose or Vicci Martinez from Orange Is the New Black, shoot your shot. Hit me up. Slide in my DMs. YUM.
And what sucks is that I have only found this type of woman once in my life. But life goes on.
The thing is that right now, I don’t need to have my sex life labeled or even on display for the world. I like what I like — and it’s simple. It breaks my heart knowing that other individuals don’t get to express themselves and their sexualities without being targeted and feeling guilt.
It has taken me around six years, a failed relationship, amazing and accepting best friends and being honest with myself to become so comfortable. That is with myself, with my friends and with giving a huge middle finger to anyone that wants to tear me down for my sexuality. My sexuality isn’t a secret, but it is also no one’s concern who I take to bed. So, all I’ll say for now is: “I’m open to situations.”