Sexualizing My Sexuality

This is something that has irritated me for quite a while.

Let me start by saying I am bisexual. I am physically attracted to both men and women. I would have sex with a man or a woman (provided love came first). I could be seen as straight or lesbian in the right circumstances, but when it comes down to it, I am bi.

All of my friends don’t mind, and I think that’s great. But some of them “don’t mind” for the wrong reasons.

“That’s hot!”

I get this all the time. Oh, but my favorite:

“Your boyfriend doesn’t know how lucky he is to have a girl like you.”

[Actual quote from a friend of mine.]

My sexuality is being sexualized.

I get these comments from most of my guy friends. They talk of three-ways and crazy college lesbian experiences. They call my boyfriend a lucky sonnovabitch for having a girlfriend that’s bi, because I’d be willing to have a three-way, or more.

I most certainly am not.

I’m bi. That does NOT mean promiscuous. It does NOT mean slutty. It does NOT mean a slave to mine or anyone else’s sexual appetite. It does NOT imply anything about me or my personality. It DOES tell you that I like boys, and I like girls.

But I have a boyfriend.

I’ve been in a loving relationship for 2 and a half years now. I don’t want to be with anyone else but my boyfriend. I don’t want to have sex with anyone other than my boyfriend. I don’t want to do anything some of my guy friends think I should just because I’m bi.

And another thing. Guys think it’s hot when a girl is bi, but what about when a boy is? Then he becomes, as the same friend mentioned earlier put it, a fag. (I cringed just typing the letters.) Men think bi women are attractive because it opens the possibility of being with multiple women at once. For some reason, in the eyes of my naive acquaintances, a bi woman will have any kind of sex, because she is sexually attracted to everyone…?

I honestly cannot even process where they got these notions from. I don’t have that level of brain degeneration.

I don’t know. I usually try to make examples and connections in my posts, but I’m just too dumbfounded and downright pissed at this topic to be able to form coherent sentences. I can’t even think of good examples to put it into context, because this is just so nonsensical to me.

How people have / how I want people to react when they find out:

  • Cool
  • -nods of acknowledgment-
  • Oh that’s cool, I didn’t know!
  • To each their own
  • I kinda figured
  • ???????

How people have and how I never ever, ever, ever, ever, ever, EVER want people to react:

  • That’s hot!
  • Have you ever/would you have a three-way?
  • Which one are you right now?
  • Attention whore

Unfortunately the list goes on. Hopefully you see the difference though, right?

*This post is subject to editing. I’m pretty tired and I can’t think of much else to say, but I do feel like posting. Just because. In case anyone wants to give me ideas.


And So It Begins

Today was my first day of college. It was pretty emotional all around. I’m just going to talk about it and vent.

I stayed in the hotel with my parents yesterday night because I knew it would make my mom feel better. And also because I didn’t have Internet or cable in my room yet.

So this morning we came back to my room and finished unpacking. I live on a mixed floor separated by a mini staircase. I had the misfortune of getting the one leftover room at the end of the boy’s hallway, so all of my neighbors are male and it makes walking to the shower more uncomfortable…

My parents and I walked around campus for a while and took a lot of pictures. We had lunch at the dining hall next to my dorm (which thank Jesus has the best quesadillas) and went to CVS to print some pictures for my dorm.


22 in total. They make me more and less homesick at the same time.

Then they left.

I really didn’t want to cry, but I did. A lot. It’s a weird feeling, knowing you’re all alone. As one of my friends said, it’s like I went on vacation with my family except they left me here and went home. I carried no friends to this school, so I really did feel like my dorm was my world (and I still kind of do).

My parents both left me with these touching words of wisdom:

Dad: You wanted this, and you got it. So be happy because you earned it.
Mom: Don’t let anyone make you feel like they’re better than you, because they’re not and you’re special too.

I cried for a solid half hour with my TV on to drown the sobbing. I didn’t know what to do, since I had nowhere to go.

It’s true that I don’t have any friends here from my old school, but I met 2 people online through the school’s Facebook page that seemed nice. They both called me today, and I have 2 different stories to tell.


K called me and asked me to go to a party. It was the freshman Beach Bash or whatever, and it sounded atrocious. She convinced me to go because she was all, “It’ll be great to make new friends and socialize!” And at the moment, I was desperate to make friends and stop being so alone, so I agreed to go.

When we got there, the line to get in (it was in a stadium) was at least half a mile long. She met up with 3 guy friends, which quickly turned into 5. Soon I was standing off to the side awkwardly on my phone while she talked to the 5 guys. I didn’t know situations like that actually happened, but I was the awkward… 7th wheel. We got in the damn place after like half an hour and it was basically a giant pizza party with a moon bounce and zumba. There were AT LEAST 1,000 people there and I was so scared and crowded I thought I was gonna throw up. Then the music started and it was so ear piercingly loud I thought I was going to pass out. When I looked back to her the number rose to 7 boys (all the time I was wondering — “Why the fuck doesn’t she have any female friends?”) I told her I was gonna go back to my dorm to shower while everyone was at the party.

It took me a loooong time to get back to my dorm. The campus is so friggin big, one of the biggest in the state (if not the largest). I had to download the Campus Map app and walk around staring at it, occasionally tapping the phone to make it look like I was actually talking to someone instead of being a noob.

I finally got back to my room, and as soon as I sat down I started crying again. I felt even more alone than I did before. When my mom called, she asked how I was doing. I could hear that she was crying. My brother had been texting me that she hasn’t stopped crying since they left, and I didn’t want to make her feel worse so I lied to my mother.

“I’m fine! I went to a party with K and played on a moon bounce and had pizza and dessert it was so much fun!”

After she hung up, I sunk into my bed and just sobbed. All I could think about was transferring to the school near home next year and getting far away from this place. Right before I was about to take a shower, I got a call from Facebook friend #2.


She asked me if I wanted to go to dinner with her and some friends. I told her I was painfully shy, but she said her friends are all shy too so we can all be shy together. Every fiber of my being told me to stay in my room, eat a microwave hamburger, take a shower and go straight to bed. That one, new, single strand of the college me said to go, so I went. I really, really, really need to make friends. I can’t be alone here.

I went down and she was there and her friends all seemed mild-mannered and sweet. We were talking and I found out that they all watch the same anime as me and they all drew and we all had similar hobbies and I actually felt at home. We went and got dinner together and ate together and talked, and it was the first time I felt at ease since my parents left.

I firmly believe that if I didn’t go with D tonight, I would be in bed crying right now. I guess for someone like me, college is all about taking chances. (The right kind of chances of course. Not like drugs or alcohol or anything.) I went out of my comfort zone for the second time in a day, and I feel so much happier than I would if I didn’t.

The shower of course was disgusting, that’s gonna take some getting used to. But I think I might be okay here. It was only the first day after all.

Curiosity Killed the Cat

But saved the incoming freshman girl.

I just went through one of my worse anxiety attacks. Gross sobbing, river of tears, choking and screaming and threats of suicide.

I found out today that I’m moving in a day early. Friday instead of Saturday. That doesn’t sound like a huge difference, but it is.

How the rest of my week was supposed to go:

  • Wednesday: Picnic and hike with my friends, shopping at night
  • Thursday: Shopping and packing with mom
  • Friday: Spend the day with my boyfriend and family
  • Saturday: Leave

How the rest of my week is going to go:

  • Wednesday: Shop and pack in a frenzy by myself because my mom doesn’t have the day off
  • Thursday: Finish shopping for whatever I missed with my mom and if I’m lucky see my boyfriend at some point
  • Friday: Leave

Do you see how these schedule differ? One day makes a huge difference.

Leaving a day early also made it sink in that I’m really leaving. These are the last 3 days that I will truly live with my family. I’ll live at college for 4-5 years, then afterwards most likely get an apartment with friends or my boyfriend (if I’m being optimistic). I’m being thrown into the world of adulthood, seemingly without warning though I’ve been preparing for this day for over a year.

And until now it really didn’t feel like I was going. Inside, it feels like I’m just spending the week at a friend’s house for a prolonged slumber party. It doesn’t feel like I’m heading down a new road without turning back. And when I do look back, things won’t be the same. In 3 days, my world will be completely different. Everything I’ve ever known will be completely different.

It felt like I was suffocating. I was choking and sobbing and my chest was tightening. I just wanted to kill myself — overdose, choke on something, slit my throat — anything so that I won’t have to feel the pain of loneliness. The pain of having everything I know crumble.

But what stopped me in the middle of the choking and cries was what my last post was about — dreams. Hope for what comes next. I wanted to end everything (and for a second I thought I was going to) and stop the cramping and the migraines, but I couldn’t.

Because I am overflowing with curiosity.

Curious about what the future will be like. Curious about what will happen when I get to college. Curious about if I become a successful therapist and help hundreds or maybe thousands of people. Curious about if I get married and have children, and what those children will look and be like.

And I cursed myself for being so curious, because for a moment I was really going to do it. I was going to run into my bathroom, pull out my bottle of Clorox, throw in a medley of allergy and pain medications and creams, and chug it down. I was already there, everything out, until I got so damn curious.

I’m no cat. Curiosity is what’s keeping me alive right now, like an IV drip though I’m barely hanging on by a single sane thread. And when the time comes 1 or 5 or 10 or 40 years down the road, I hope I’ll know it was worth it.

Dream A Little Dream of Me

My last post ended kind of badly. I reread it and it made me sad, so I’m going to make two blog posts in one day woot woot.

My mom came in my room not too long ago and asked me, “Are you going to miss me?”

I laughed it off and joked with her, but she knows I will. I’ll miss my dad and brother too. And my aunts and uncles and cousins that I see almost every day. I’ll miss my friends and my boyfriend. But there’s something that eases the pain.


Dreaming of seeing them again. Dreaming of what it will be like when we’re reunited. Dreaming of how our futures will be. To lighten the mood, I’d like to share some of these dreams that keep this cold little heart of mine pumping.


I have 3 cousins that I grew up with. 2 are about to be seniors in college, and one is about to be an 8th grader. I’m leaving my brother in 6 days, so I won’t see him much. I haven’t spent as much time as I’d like to with all of them, but I imagine a future where we act like how our parents do now. Living within a half hour radius of each other. Meeting up once a week for a game night with the spouses while the kids play in another room. Talking about our days and our jobs and watching movies and having parties. I dream about us growing closer. I dream about all of our dreams coming true (my cousins being engineers, the other being an artist. My brother being an accountant and me being a therapist). I’d love for us to always be together, but this may not be true since one of them aspires to work in California or Washington state, but you know, one can dream.

As for my parents, they have… gender specific dreams for me. My mom wants me to have a kid fresh out of college (as in, 21 or 22 years old) which I’m not about. But I do imagine having kids at my desired age (26-28) and going to visit my parents with my babies. My parents will see how cute my children are and how happy I am with my loving husband, and they’ll see how successful and satisfied I am with my job and feel proud of me and of themselves for having raised such a great child.


Right now I have 6 best friends that I mourn over being without for the next four years. I imagine us being each other’s bridesmaids / groomsmen at each other’s weddings (and I like trying to guess the order on how we’ll get hitched). I imagine how my speech would go, what color scheme they’d choose. I imagine crying rivers of tears at each ceremony and making a fool of myself dancing at the receptions. I imagine all of us having our own jobs and our own relationships and our own families, but every now and then we come together and see how we’re all doing. We watch each other’s kids and go to every birthday party and special event, and we reminisce and laugh at all our old jokes. I imagine things being completely different yet exactly the same.


I imagine we get engaged after college and we move in together. It’ll be night time and he’ll be in bed cozy under the blanket. I’ll be in the bathroom washing my face and he’ll have his eyes closed. He’ll hear the water stop, then he’ll hear footsteps. He’ll pretend to be asleep. I’ll crawl into bed next to him and wrap my arms around him, when all of a sudden he starts tickling me. I yell at him to stop between fits of laughter and he laughs and kisses me all over my pouting face and he’ll hug me tight. He’ll look me in the eyes and tell me he loves me and I’ll tell him I love him too, and I’ll turn the light out and settle back into his body, knowing that everything will be alright when I wake up.

I pretty much make fan fictions of my life in my free time. Chances are, little bits and pieces of these dreams will come true, but I just don’t know which ones yet. And that’s the exciting thing about dreams. There’s always a chance they can come true.

They can also change. I didn’t always want to be a therapist, but now it’s my dream. I dream of helping people, and I’m working to make it a reality. I used to dream of having a kid the age my parents wanted me to, but it changed to a later date because I need time for my education. I used to dream of being a part-time stripper just for fun, but that didn’t last long.

The point I’m trying to make is that dreams happen. They come and go, but they’re fun while they last. They change to fit the way you’ve changed.

I’m going into college with all these dreams in my heart, but chances are I won’t leave with all of them. Chances are I’ll leave with a lot more. Chances are some dreams will come true while I’m in college. Chances are some will never come true.

Dreams (desires, not images your brain makes during unconscious periods) are something your heart wishes for. No matter what I have to go through, I’m going to work to make my dreams realities.

The Beginning

I haven’t written a post in a few weeks. The reason for that is because I’ve been busy with friends and family pretty much every minute of every day for the past few weeks.

The reason for that is because I leave for college in *checks calendar* 6 days.

It’s the end of my childhood, and the beginning of the rest of my life. I am 18. If I double that age, I’ll be 36. As a 36 year old, I could be married with 2 kids and have a steady career as a therapist.

Today I got back from a short 3 day vacation with my family and boyfriend. When I dropped him home and said goodbye, I unexpectedly started crying.

This entire time I’ve been thinking that I’m completely ready to go away for college and be on my own. I’m ready for adult responsibility and I want to take care of myself. But now that the day is so close, I know I’m not. Not yet, anyways.

Reasons why I don’t want to go:

  • I’m scared. I’m going to a school with one of the biggest campuses in the state and it’s terrifying. I have pepper spray, but you know, what good will that do if an assailant grabs me from behind and holds my hands back?
  • I’m alone. I have no friends going, besides 2 people I met through Facebook. It’s not too much comfort, since I don’t know them… Talking to people is something I can’t do easily. I’m terrified of strangers. I hide behind my friends and make friendships through them.
  • I’m spoiled. I don’t even know how to do laundry. If my mom didn’t remind me, I wouldn’t drink water or eat at normal times or even go to sleep before midnight. I have never been without my parents for more than a week (and when they were gone I stayed with my grandma who babied me as well). I don’t know how to take care of myself.

Reasons why I have to go:

  • I’m spoiled. For heaven’s sake, my 18th birthday party costed about as much as my first year of college will. I don’t know how to do anything for myself. I’m too scared to talk to cashiers or sales assistants, I don’t know how to do laundry or ask for help. I’m pretty much a big baby. I need to learn how to take care of myself. I need to learn how to do things by myself with no hand-holding.

We learn in psychology that when babies first start walking on their own, they do it with their hands raised because that’s how they learned to do it with their parents helping them. Right now, that’s me. Socially, anyways. I can’t do anything without asking my parents or friends for help first. I will fall a few times, but I need to walk by myself without expecting someone to catch me if I stumble.

My mom keeps saying it’s like the first day of kindergarten. You don’t know anyone, you’re in a big new school, but you adjust and you adapt. The reason that that doesn’t work for me is that I’m not 5 anymore. I don’t have this bright, willing, optimistic everyone-is-trustworthy attitude. I’m more reserved than I used to be.

I miss my friends already. One day they might be “my old friends” or “those kids I knew in high school”, and that thought also scares me.

I can’t really think of a good way to end this post. I want to say that I know that I’ll be alright, but I don’t. I want to say that I have faith that things will work out in the end, but I don’t know. I’m not sure what will happen.

All I can say for certain is that I’ll try. I’ll try to make friends, I’ll try to do laundry, I’ll try to do everything. And if I fail — which I consider caving into my mom’s recommendation of transferring to the college 15 minutes from my house — then that says a lot about how I’ll manage myself in the real world.

Put A Little Love In Your Heart

Sometimes I feel bad for making so many personal posts, but then I remember that this is my personal blog and I can write whatever I want.

Let me start this post by telling a story.

Yesterday was my sugar bun’s birthday wheeee. I didn’t get to see him because we’re both out of town, but I found out he got a car for his birthday, which is some exciting stuff.

The cause of my distress is because I found out he got a car from Facebook. On his mom’s page. She posted the pictures really late at night, but it was bright in the pictures, so I kind of had a moment of “…Oh… So I guess he didn’t feel the need to tell me about this…”

It kind of stung, since getting your first car is usually an important and exciting milestone in a person’s life and it was kind of like, oh, he didn’t feel like sharing. I talked to him for like 3 or 4 hours today and he didn’t feel like bringing that up.

(Still not at my main point yet.)

So of course I kind of got upset and I texted him congratulating him on the car, and asking why he didn’t think to mention it to me.

(Here’s my point.)

Whenever I get into a spat with my boyfriend though, or whenever something in the less-than-positive range happens, the same thought always crosses my mind: Maybe I should break up with him.

Not because I don’t like him. Not because I don’t think he likes me. But because I don’t think he deserves what I put him through sometimes. When I’m whiny or bitter or anything of the nature, I always think, “Well this is a really petty topic when you think about it… He doesn’t deserve the shit I’m giving him.”

The main point I’m trying to make it that I never feel like I’m worthy of anything.

I never think I’m worth love, worth respect, worth anyone’s time or efforts.

When I was younger, I was bullied a lot for being ugly. At lunch time everyday, I would look at the deemed “beautiful” girls in my class and look at my food. I would think “Food gives energy. Energy helps you live. Why should I eat this food then? I’m not beautiful. I don’t deserve to live. What do I need this energy for? Why should I eat this food?”

Just saying, but my boyfriend takes a lot of shit from me. A lot. I suffer from depression, along with the occasional anxiety/panic attack. I spend some nights up crying, I have incredible insomnia. But whenever I’m having a bitch fit, he just takes it, and he tries to calm me down, and whenever I feel like breaking up with him it’s because I don’t think I deserve his kindness and all his hard efforts.

I was going through a particularly bad spell one night. I really wanted to break up with him, and all I could think about was killing myself. There was a lot of sobbing and wheezing and altogether unpleasantness. I told him that we should break up, and he said to me, “Why do you think you can decide what’s best for me? I know what’s best for me, and I want you. I don’t want to be with anyone else. Why can’t you just accept my love and be happy with me?”

I honestly don’t know. I don’t know why, but… I don’t know.

There’s a quote that goes, “We take the love we think we deserve” or something along those lines. Maybe that’s not quite true, because I know that my boyfriend goes through more than he should putting up with me and I know I don’t deserve that.

The past left me with these ugly wounds. I have an extreme abandonment complex, an inferiority complex, and an “Is she prettier than me?” complex. I’m emotionally over-reactive. I’m over-defensive because I’m always waiting for an attack. I’m the biggest clinger and pusher you will ever meet, perfectly at the same time.

His words calmed me that night. They made me think, Hey, here I am throwing the biggest fit of my life, and he still wants to be with me. I’ve tossed him around every which way, and he still wants to be with me. It’s either he’s fifty shades of crazy, or he really loves me. But hopefully both.

I try really hard not to be that person. I try really hard to be a good person for my friends, so that I can feel I deserve them. Hopefully one day I’ll know that I do.