Current location:	Work
Current mood:	contemplative
Current music:	"The Could be the Last Time"-Lights Resolve

Lessons in Living
Song lyric of the moment-"If you could only see I'm different than before."-Kate Micucci

The amount of time it would take me to post about NYC is WAY greater than the amount of time I have to write this entry.  I'll do it sometime later.  Incidentally, you could also just find me and ask me about it.  I'd love to tell stories.

What I'm actually concerned about is something that happened while I was over there, as well as something that happened here during Pgh Pride.  Well, a few somethings, really.  I've come to some interesting conclusions, though I'm not sure how I feel about them.  Right now it's pretty indifferent.  That may change.

First off, being in NYC three years after coming out was certainly a big deal.  I remember that scared kid, standing alone on Christopher Street, surrounded by really funny lesbians, terrified that they'd assume I was one of them, or worse, assume I wasn't and cast me aside.  I didn't who I was or what I was or anything, and as much as I wanted to be there, I also wanted to run away.  I remember slinking into the Oscar Wilde bookstore, trying to hide my face as I looked around, curious and embarrassed at the same time.  I remember buying three things there: a rainbow belt, a book on bisexuality, and a bracelet.  I was so nervous about reading that damned book that I hunched over on the subway so that no one would be able to see it.  I wore my bracelet with defiance; no one really noticed it, so it was like my own little secret.  Whenever someone did notice it, I cowered away and quickly changed the subject.  I only wore the belt during Pride; why else would I blatantly broadcast a sexuality I wasn't even sure belong to me?  I was so unsure of who I was and so afraid to find out, yet I was anxious to see who I COULD be.  When I left that fateful weekend in July, someone different came back.  Sure, she was still afraid of the subway and hid her bracelet, but at least she knew why.

This time around, everything was different.  I wasn't scared or shy.  I knew nobody was paying attention to my (new) bracelet, but that was because I had rainbow suspenders and a shirt declaring my bisexuality.  I wore my belt everywhere (except, ironically, to Pride, because of the suspenders).  I openly checked out both men and women.  When strangers asked me questions, I answered them.  I had no shame.  I was proud to be who I was, who I am.  That scared kid never came back.  I don't miss her.

Part of my newfound acceptance is knowing that some things have changed about my limits, and that's okay.  There are certain things I would never do in public before.  There are certain things I would never do with other people, and certainly not people I just met.  Now, well, I don't care anymore.  I'm not doing anyone any harm.  I'm not hurting myself.  I'm not doing anything extremely obscene, and I'm sticking to my personal morals.  I'm not even having sex (and still don't plan on doing it anytime soon).  I used to be so uptight and judgemental about things, and now, I don't care.  I don't feel bad.  I know what my limits are, I know when to stop.  Until I reach that point, I'm doing just fine.

Most importantly, I know who I am, and I know what that means.  I realized this weekend that, while I find boys very attractive, and some boys very funny and smart and charming, I also find them boring.  Thinking about them romantically doesn't hold the same value as it once did, nor as it does for girls.  I've been avoiding saying this for awhile, as I wasn't sure whether or not it was true, but now I know: I don't want to be in a relationship with a guy.  I know saying that will no doubt make my life more complicated.  Does that mean you're gay?  No, it doesn't.  Do you mean ALL men?  Well, if I met one who I didn't find boring, I'd certainly love to go out with him.  In fact, I've met a couple in recent memory, but they weren't the norm and they weren't interested.  So, if you still like boys a little, you could just date of one them since it's easier, right?  No.  I don't date people because it's convenient, or because they fall into my lap and it's easier that way.  I date people because, for some reason or another, I like them and am attracted to them on more than a physical level.  If I meet a man who has all that and wants to date me, then fine, but I'm telling you right now that it's unlikely.  I'm connecting with women, I'm more attracted to women, and all the people I've liked recently have been women.  I still get to wear blue, purple, and (ick) pink, I still get to keep my bi card, and I still get to change my mind six months or a year or ten years from now, just like I did when I stopped thinking that girls were totally gross, just like I did when I had a gf but still looked at guys all the time.  That's the beauty of not being monosexual: I can come as close or far to either side of the spectrum and still be bi.  You don't get a say in that.

Pride has done wonders to me.

-Dr. B