It was pointed out to me that the following post was inappropriate for !lgbtq+. I said I’d not repost, but as with all useful things in life, the first time is never effective. I’m a biased opinion, but I believe this lies at the intersection of that being appropriate and larger impacts in interaction.

And, I mean, fuck it, if I wrote it, may as well keep it published.

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My first kiss was under a table in kindergarten with a girl with short hair.

It would later turn out, as discovered via Facebook, that she’d gone full alt butch. Which, uh … well, that’s my type. The die was cast at 5. I liked her because she didn’t want to act like a girl – the rest were somewhat boring, and I found myself already drawn to the idea of equality sted gender roles.

Not that I knew this at the time. It was 1984 (no, not that one), and I just found myself drawn to her being someone who was fun to hang out with because we didn’t have to play any of the games surrounding other interactions. I have a bit of a guess about what her family structure was like, but such things were not discussed back then and would have anyway been inappropriate for 5-year-olds.

So when I met the girl at 17 in the dorm my first summer in college who’d introduce me to the rave scene that year and play a major catalyst role two years later, scrambling my seemingly direct journalism path I’d only stumbled into eight months earlier, it wasn’t unusual but rather a return to form. She ended up marrying a guy (and becoming a professor), so not fully on brand, but that’s the joy of being bi.

We never got together, much to my consternation. But I pulled up an email she sent about how the path meant for me was not what society expects when I dropped out of college for the first time, in fall 1997.

"you’re braver than i shall ever be.

remember to follow the sunset - not the sunrise. it can only blind you and lead you where only the teachers and preachers want you to be.

always take that shadowed path. that is where you will find happiness. not many find it there, but you are one of those few - i know. whether it be early in the morning, downtown in a strange place with some bizzare chick…

good traveling.

this is is your life. i am so jealous that you are taking it upon yourself to be your own life. someday i will be that brave…

i wish you all the luck in the world."

Quite a bit to take in at 18, with years to unpack. And, indeed, the role I settled into in journalism would not be a byline but rather getting shit done without recognition on the desk.

I’d then finally get laid at 18 by a woman who had short hair and would go on to marry a woman years later. She’s cheated on her wife twice with me over the years, in addition to having come out (no, she wasn’t there yet) to visit me in Virginia for a week before she met her wife. She was crucial as another catalyst, as without her getting me a hotel room, I’d not have met my second ex-wife.

I’ve never had a relationship with a straight woman. I just can’t understand this obsession with things like makeup and celebrities. Those are uninteresting topics.

So, we have all this backstory, and then the college newsroom happens and I’m living with my boss within days. There’s a community where this is a meme, but it rarely involves men. The raver shows back up and shatters this, and while we still never were directly involved, this leads to chartering an international flight after missing a ferry to meet a woman. That girlfriend was the only one I’ve had a threesome with.

The hits keep piling up. After a few years in the wilderness relationshipwise working on my career, I get a note of interest from a woman with hair shorter than mine on OKCupid. Within a week, well … we went directly from Starbucks to her dorm room.

And the same week, I reached out to a woman with a collar in her profile pic who wanted nothing to do with me and was hours out of town. I married both, just not at the same time. The second had a five-year gap from that first contact, and neither of us was actually aware we’d communicated in the past because she’d created a new account.

I moved in with her after 12 days, which involved jettisoning her boyfriend Christmas Eve, and three days later, the penny dropped when she showed me an old photo … the one I’d messaged in 2004.

The second ex had a girlfriend for much of our marriage, as denying her pussy access seemed unfair.

The day that marriage fell apart, I was again in my boss’ bed. Lesbian, of course. I’d no idea she wasn’t straight, but I damn well should have from prior art. She was a femme (and likely still is), but I was attracted to her competence and saw my marriage collapsing from outside factors, and she had that “get shit done” attitude that’s an aphrodisiac.

After cohabitating for a time, my kink side reared its ugly head. She was as vanilla as they come, which strained things to the breaking point.

I’m heavily aware of my needs at this point and thus not interested in unmodded straight vanilla women. This generally leads to bad outcomes via batshit, but the heart wants what it wants.

It’s just crazy that this whole thing started when I was under a table at 5. Who knows their trajectory from then?