I had never once questioned my sexuality. Others had asked me about my preference as though they weren’t sure, but I had always known I was only interested in men. Even when I began to pique the interest of several of my lesbian friends, I stuck with heterosexuality.
I was a bit of a late bloomer. I had my first kiss at the age of 15, with a church boy that, immediately afterward, called me an asshole for not being ready to go farther. Between then and the beginning of my freshman year of college, I kissed two more boys. One was my awkward attempt at friends-with-benefits, whose sister caught us mid-fellatio. The other was my boyfriend for the short-lived relationship that spawned out of a spontaneous New Year’s kiss.
The first semester of my college career brought a slew of new experiences. For the first few weeks of school, I fell into a whirlwind relationship built on sex and sex alone. I broke it off when I realized that I was leading him on. After that, there were several drunken hook-ups and one night stands, some of which I remember and others that I do not. Then came the dry spell. For over a month, I didn’t even kiss another human being. (This sounds rather ridiculous, but in your freshman year of college, a month is a long time.)
On our last night out before finals week, I met a girl. That night, I had been looking for a guy to dance with or hook-up with, to no avail. I basically forced my ass onto the crotch of a guy who, minutes later, was lying on the floor of the bathroom with his head in the toilet, puking up the excessive amounts of alcohol he drank earlier that night.
I was so sad. Not a single person at the party felt I was worthy of their time. It may sound vapid or shallow, but it’s true. When she came up to me and said I was beautiful, I blushed and said “No, that’s you” without giving it a second thought. She wasn’t hitting on me, we were just two girls meeting for the first time. We were drunk and complimentary. But then, she popped the question. “Are you gay?” To my own surprise, I shrugged and asked “Who knows?”
She immediately hopped off the table she had been dancing on in the shitty house owned by slovenly college men and grabbed my hand, leading me outside. She whipped out a Black and Mild for us to share and told me I was beautiful again, this time with intent. Before we could smoke the entire cigarillo, her lips were pressed against mine and my tongue was in her mouth. Her hands were on the small of my back and in my hair. Boys’ wandering hands usually made it up my shirt or onto my butt by now. Was this what it felt like to be wanted as a human being rather than a one night stand?
I don’t know what got into me, but I let her take me back inside to dance. We kissed and we danced and we kissed some more. In front of everyone. In front of all of my friends and her friends. I remember every detail, so I obviously wasn’t too drunk to care if anyone saw. Maybe part of me wanted this? My roommate pulled me out of my lustful daze to take me home. Had she not, I would have gone home with this girl I had just met. Not that I hadn’t slept with someone I didn’t know before, but was I ready to wake up next to a girl? Completely sober?
When I woke up the next morning, I had a whole group of people to answer to. My friends wanted to know what happened. Was last night my way of coming out? How was it? Do I like her? Are we going to get together? Her friends want to know what my intentions are. Apparently I gave off the vibe that I wanted to start a relationship. Did she want that? Did I want that?
This was all too much to think about all at once so I went to breakfast with my floormates to clear my head. Nothing will get your mind off of your own drunken decisions better than listening to those of your friends. When I got back to my room, though, I had a lot of thinking to do.
By lunchtime, I had decided that I am straight with exceptions. I could only see myself being in a relationship with a man. However, I am attracted to females, as well. Why wouldn’t I be? Women are powerful, beautiful, elegant creatures. But, could I handle the world knowing this about me? In all of my support for gay rights, I had never seen this side. The fear of society knowing you for what you are. How would everyone react? Do I have to tell people? Should I hide this from my friends? I surely can’t tell my family. But why not? Shouldn’t they love me for who I am?
I haven’t gotten all of this straight in my mind yet. Honestly, I don’t expect that to happen any time soon. All I know is that it has been a week since I last kissed her and I can’t stop thinking about how much I want to do it again. I don’t know if it’s because she was my first sexual experience with a woman, because we had a real connection, or because she was the only one willing to show me any attention that night. I haven’t spoken to her since the morning after the party. I hope she texts me. I wouldn’t mind experimenting some more.