My First Bisexual Experience
When I was younger, I worked as a waitress. Less ‘waitress in a cocktail bar’ and more waitress in a dingy pub in a forming mining town in the far north of England. Still, I was a waitress and it provided me with beer money whilst I studied A level English and history. Up until the point of me getting the job, I’d led rather a quiet life, I’ve always been a studious type and was reserved at school, in fact, I fucking hated school. I did not like the children, I hated the team games, I never ‘played out’ after school. In other words, I was an introverted little weirdo. And in many respects, I still am.
Then, suddenly, like an ugly scab scraped off the knee to reveal fresh new skin, I emerged into the wonderful world of my local sixth form. I was surrounded by fellow studious types, older boys and girls who drove smoked and went to gigs. I was enticed, no longer was I the weird freckled skinned kid with a perpetual scowl, ( well technically I was) moreover, my pale skin and freckles were considered sexy, my scowl meant I was deeply engrossed in my Penguin Classic and my ringlets ( which previously I hated with a passion) fell loose to my shoulders and bounced on shiny new tits. I was a hottie. For the first time in my life.
For the purposes of this blog, ill call her J. J was a year older than me and also waitressed at the pub and attended the sixth form. I hadn’t known her previously as she came from another school, (already taboo in itself) which meant she only ever got to meet the new and steadily improving version of this kinda girl. J was popular, but not in a stereotypical manner. She played sports, was edgy, wore tight jeans, and converse, she went to indie gigs and the boys loved her. The girls thought she was moody and unapproachable, she was, and that’s why the two of us hit it off. We began working the same shifts at the pub and predictably other girls who worked there didn’t care for her much as she proved popular with the older staff and the assistant manager drove her home most nights. Little they know that the only means of thanks he ever got was the privilege of her lovely backside gracing his passenger side seat. I remember being shocked when she told me this was the extent of it. I couldn’t understand how she could maintain so many loyal followers without any form of putting out ( she also was seeing a guy in sixth form and had two others wrapped around her little finger) it would be about twelve years later that I would discover the keys to her success but not after id fallen under her spell myself.
By this point, id started going out maybe two or three nights a week with various friendship groups. J considered sixth form parties to be lame, so I never told her I attended. I wanted to maintain my image, that was becoming increasingly similar to hers. I now wore smoky eyeshadow, drank real ale and listened to The Cribbs.
J and I made plans to go out one night, (or rather she told me this was happening) it must have been a Friday or Saturday as she wanted to go ‘out out’. Ever her loyal lapdog, I indulged her and she suggested we get ready at hers. Now for most women, this portrays the image of over extensive use of foundation, glossy lips and pouting over social media whilst consuming prosecco or Lambrini. But this was the around 2007 and smartphones weren’t a thing. And even if they had been a thing, they wouldn’t have taken hold in that far north of the country. J put on Kings of Leon and rummaged around in her chest of draws, pulling out two tops. One grungy grey, the other, a suitably dingy competitor. I thought she would ask my opinion, I waited for her to turn to me to fill that role I was so poised and eager to do.
She chose one. Unaided and Independent. She stuffed some condoms into her purse and turned to me. ‘Ready?’
I glanced around her room. Her double bed, her extensive CD collection, her large poster of Bon Jovi- chest proud and sweat-slicked on the wall, various items of underwear, and on the dressing table eyeshadows mixed shades of greens and blacks, lay scattered, crumbling and powdery, only to be dusted away by her mother the next day- another person she appeared to have wrapped around her finger.
‘Why haven’t you got any curtains?’ I enquired. J smirked; a smirk I would later come to realise meant so much more than I could have ever comprehended back then.
‘I dunno,’ she replied, nonchalant.
I cast her response aside over fear of me losing street cred in her eyes. I didn’t want her thinking I was anything less than super cool and worthy of her friendship. Curtains? Those draft excluding window coverings were obviously so overrated. In ‘town’ (everyone, everywhere has their own version of the town, it’s such a wonderful universal phrase, whether you are referring the city centre, the closest large shopping area, a larger than average village or up/downtown- still town but a different area of town. When you say ‘town’ it means the same thing, regardless) we headed for the quirky, popular bar, famed for its bottled foreign beers, extensive cocktail menu and more alternative crowd. They played Motown and had live Jazz on a weekend. I had quickly learnt that J wasn’t the stereotypical type of woman who would trot along to the bathroom with other giggling girls and pout and reapply red lips. I remember the first time I asked her if she wanted to go to the bathroom together. She looked back at me, a frown appearing on her neat little forehead.
‘Why?’ she asked,
‘Well, you know, I just thought’ I could already feel my cheeks reddening, of course, she doesn’t want to go with you, you fucking idiot, I scolded myself. But why? I wondered, how come this behaviour was so imperative to all other girls, and why did it matter so much that she didn’t want to join me?
The evening continued, steadily we became ever more increasingly drunk on bottles of Smirnoff ice, sipped seductively through plastic straws. Now, if your home town is anything like mine, you will have maybe one or two big clubs that absolutely everyone ends up in at around midnight, and stays there, until 3 am when they turn on the lights and the punters scuttle like inebriated horny cockroaches into the corners and flee ( drunkenly) into overpriced taxis. That night, we, of course, ended up there ( they had a dancefloor dedicated to soft rock and indie classics, (Living on a prayer, summer of 69, Belinda Carlisle, that kind of thing) J was in her element bouncing around on the dancefloor, her tight t-shirt riding up over her smooth flat stomach.
J reached out and pulled me closer toward her. Her hazel eyes flashed at me, a sizable grin evident on her face.
‘ You’re so pretty’
I shrugged, ‘why would you say that?’ I asked, after all, as far as I was aware, I knew that women could be gay and be attracted to women, but she was my friend and saying these words to me, made me feel uneasy, being attracted to women was for lesbians? Right? I definitely knew I wasn’t a lesbian. And the subject of lesbians raised a whole other set of questions, how did they have sex? What did they do?
But she wasn’t just my friend was? The fact that it came from her mouth, J whom I had placed so far on a pedestal, whom I had been working tirelessly to impress, J who dismissed everybody but manipulated them in equal measure was paying me a compliment. I was pale-skinned putty in her hands. I suppose the fact that I found her attractive was an uncomfortable truth at this point, it flooded my mind with doubts, emotions and sensations I wasn’t ready or able to deal with. Still, more on the science behind human behaviour later, things were about to get a lot more intense in my world.
It must have been 2 am when we snuck back into her house. We were drunk, but not overly fucked up (these were the days of nights fuelled by alcopops) plus the cold northern air must have sobered us up as we waited for our taxi. We sat on the bed and J removed her eye make up before stumbling off to the bathroom. I dug my PJs out and quickly pulled them on. Years of awkward embarrassment getting changed in front of other girls at school (I hated school remember) had led me to the conclusion that girls are cruel and no ones like ginger pubes. So with this in mind, I pulled back the duvet and slid into bed. J came back in, playfully she pushed me to one side.
‘Shift up’ she giggled, I did just this, and proceeded to lay still, unsure of the correct bed-sharing etiquette, whilst my head tried to process the events of the night. I must have dozed off for a short while, and was woken by the sensation of J s lips on mine.
I pulled back ‘J, what are you doing?’ my confusion and shock evident on my face.
‘You know I fancy you’ she grinned at me; her head cocked to one side
‘And anyways, I’ve kissed girls before’ she added, proudly.
‘Who?’ I frowned, my eyes widened.
J proceeded to tell me the name of a girl we used to work with. ( inherently, one who did tolerate her)
‘But, shes not a lesbian!’ I gasped
She rolled her eyes, and proceeded to move her hands down between my legs, instinctively I did the same, and my fingers grazed her pubic hair, unsure of what to do exactly, I did what I thought best, and slid my fingers inside her. (I’m sure there’s a novelty ‘keep calm and carry on fingering’ mug available somewhere online) after a short while of giggling and kissing, we ran out of ideas and fell asleep.
J’s mum drove me home the next morning, and I sat in the back of the ford fiesta, avoiding J’s eyes as she kept glancing at me through the passenger side wing mirror.
‘You two were giggling last night’ enquired her mother, ‘You must have been so drunk’
‘Yeah, we were’ replied J. Her eyes caught mine, I read ‘ do not say a word’ in her glance and turned my head away.
Over the next few weeks, J and I continued to be chatty as we waited on tables but I noticed that she was becoming less responsive to my texts. It was about this time, that my own popularity has begun to steadily creep up on me, and no longer was I willing to play shy awkward sidekick and instead was slowly creating my own loyal following. But it hurt, it really hurt, over the next few months, J and I became less friendly, she, more involved with other friends ( she also played women’s football) and I failed to understand why I had suddenly been dropped. I had hung on her every word for the last few months, I was her biggest fan, her strongest ally. I had graduated and passed with flying colours. I was her go-to girl, we laughed at each other’s jokes, and most importantly, we hated the same people. What was I to do now?
Leading up this rather abrupt ending, J had been spending time with an older guy who had started working behind the bar at the pub. A was good looking, in his mid-twenties and had a hatchback with a spoiler on. Nowadays I’d think he was a twat, but back then he was a girl magnet, and J had, of course, bagged him. This was up until they argued one night in the cellar and J stormed out red-faced after he called her out on two-timing him. I, of course, knew all about the two-timing, and for me, it just added to her coolness. (I was still in awe of her even though she was barely speaking to me) Urgh! It must have been a week later, and J had been keeping a low profile and had been working opposite shifts to A, and now I found myself working with him. With my newly acquired sexy charm and feminine curves, it was I who found myself in his car one night after work, I didn’t give J a second thought, as I let him slide his tongue into my mouth, after all, they had split up and she didn’t seem to want to hang out with me anymore, right? So what harm was this going do? I was sexy and popular for the first time in my life, id bagged the popular guy, I was seducing him. (see how terribly naive I was?) there was no way I was going to let this opportunity go.
So, as you will of guessed, this is the story of my first experience with a woman, but let’s put that aside, the heartbreak I felt in the weeks that passed after was excruciating. It took me a long time to understand and make sense of what had happened, not physically, but mentally. (physically not a lot happened at all) I’m sure there are plenty of you out there who have experienced something similar, especially at a young age. Now, let’s start to understand her and my behaviour fully. Why had J dropped me like that? Why after I had worked so hard to gain her approval, to say the right things, act the right way had she suddenly cut me loose? Why had I idolised her in the creepy and obsessive way that I did (Iit was a bit creepy) and why when I finally was getting my sexy shit together, had she completely written me off?
Why? It all boils down to these simple facts. No one likes competition. J figured I was a safe bet because she felt I didn’t challenge her. Other girls disliked her as she was confident, comfortable in her own skin, and didn’t need reassurance from others that she was doing the right thing. This is something I now realise was hugely sexy. I didn’t pose any sort of threat or challenge to her, as I was happy to play insecure sidekick. She was independent and didn’t compare herself. She knew she was the shit. She didn’t need to feel part of anything. Remember when I said J had refused to join me in the bathroom to gossip, this really stuck in my mind as I fundamentally found it upsetting. Let’s face it, women go to the bathrooms to gossip with one another, to bitch, to moan to say awful things about their boyfriends that they can’t risk anyone else hearing. This builds bonds. And J didn’t want to partake in this, and I felt deeply unsettled that she didn’t want to build bonds in this way.
So why else was I dropped quicker than upside down cheese on toast?
Well, as soon as I became competition, as opposed to her sidekick, she didn’t want to know. She was used to being the centre of attention, she didn’t want to share that J shaped spotlight with me.
Remember I said she was manipulative, without being promiscuous. For a very long time, I associated popularity with sexual promiscuity, and I’m sure many readers can relate to this. It wasn’t until fairly recently that I discovered how her lack of sexual availability led to her popularity. She kept the men chasing and chasing, never quite getting close enough to catch her. This was something I absolutely did not learn, I wish I had believed her when she said she wasn’t putting out!
Why was I so eager to please J? Why did it matter so much to me what she thought? Id always been an insecure girl, never wanting to be in the spotlight, I quickly learnt that no likes a nerd and I was often bullied for simply being my quiet self. Many people have wrongly assumed that I’m aloof, but with J she told me she didn’t think this at all. Once I heard these glorious words of acceptance, I was hooked.
And finally, when she smirked about not having curtains? Now I realise She was an exhibitionist.
Should this have happened in today’s world, J probably would have ghosted me. And I would have spent a good while reading urban dictionary definitions about ghosting and other colloquialisms associated with shit behaviour.
I know it sounds strange that I carried these feelings with me for such a long time after I was introduced to them. You may be thinking for god’s sake, just let it go! But it is my belief that all the interactions we have over the course of our lives shape us in some way. Some of us ponder over them and agonise and grow bitter, never finding the right answers, or never accepting the truth. Chances are these emotions will go on to have some impact on relationships and dating experiences later down the line. Maybe they will lead you to discover a lifestyle you previously hadn’t comprehended. I don’t blame J for her actions, in fact, I thank her for forcing me into a position where I wanted to learn more, ask more, discover more and become more liberal-minded. I hope you have enjoyed reading this post, and if you’re a woman like me, who has spent a long time asking herself ‘what did I do wrong? The answer is this. Nothing. You did nothing wrong, you were just being human.
Previously, I was deeply unaware of human behaviour and intimate interactions between people. After all, we aren’t taught this stuff at a young age, instead, we are taught to follow a moral compass, an appropriate guide to life, whereby we are governed by a set of social ideals and not human nature, which I believe is dismissed for the large part. I understand that we cant all act upon our instincts all the time, it wouldn’t be progressive. But we humans really to give ourselves a hard time. Once I started to understand, I wanted to use my new-found knowledge to go back and dissect some, ( not all) intimacy’s and relationships I have had over the course of my life to gain a deeper understanding into why people have acted the way they have, and how this has influenced me into leading an alternative lifestyle. Delving a little deeper into why we do the things we do, has given me a greater understanding of my past. It’s a useful way of putting your fears, concerns and niggling little doubts to bed, once and for all.Follow me on social media