| In high school I was infamous for my strange dating patterns. My love life followed this cycle:
1. Meet sexy, brainy wimp with lovely cheekbones.
2. Pal around with him for a few months.
3. Start dating him because our mutual friends said we'd be "Such a cuuuu-te couple!"
4. Realize that I was getting no play.
5. Break up with him because I was a teenage horndog. Repeat.
Although not getting tied down in a serious relationship was nice, this cycle became terribly unsatisfying. Especially because the guys I was always attracted to wanted to do nothing but shop and go out to "be seen." Dating something more feminine than I was could be a huge drag. Sometimes I got sick of watching Chris squeal while I killed the bugs we'd run across. Listening to Brian sound like the head priest of The Church of David Bowie got old. And if my boyfriend du jour dragged me to the mall one more time, I swore I'd bring an AK-47 to amuse myself while he traipsed through Structure.
But I wasn't just a teenage fag hag. It went deeper.
After my ex-fiance and I broke up because I don't have a penis, I started examining what I was really looking for in a date/potential mate. Looking for femininity in all the wrong places was not going to make me happy. And I finally admitted to myself that I was NOT reading Playboy for the articles.
Coming out as bisexual was not easy. Dealing with my first girlfriend's PMS fits was terrifying. But watching her sleep... her hair falling over her shoulders... her little sighs... -blush- Fuck the PMS! Women are wonderful.
Straight people confuse me. How can one not appreciate both sexes? Trying to be straight was a drag. I wanted to have my cake and eat it too. | 
