I gotta be me

I haven’t posted much on here this year. My life has settled down. I turned 50 a few months ago, and I’ve had some health issues. The overwhelming desire to find a girlfriend/female FWB has faded. I would still love to find that mythical creature, but I’m not looking.

I quit misbehaving with men online. I don’t sext, or have phone sex. I do occasionally tell someone a story to help them get off. Maybe some people don’t see a distinction between that and sexting, but I do. I just lay out a plot, and I don’t include myself in the scenario.

After four years of being almost hyper sexual, it’s just not interesting, or fun anymore. There’s no point in getting worked up, if I can’t even give myself an orgasm. (Getting old sucks).

I still have sex with my husband about once a week. It’s weird that I don’t have a problem doing that, but having an orgasm through masturbating is too intense. It feels like my heart is going to explode. And given that I have an enlarged heart, that’s entirely possible.

My attitudes about many things have changed. I can’t lie, I still love J. I will always love him as a friend. But after four years, I am no longer in love with him. I know that I’ve said that before, and I meant it. But the feelings would come creeping back in. But now, I think that they are really gone.

I have finally accepted him for who/what he is, and not what I want him to be. He will never be that person. And I’m good with that. It was time to let go.

We have a bond that neither of us can explain. But it’s there, and it’s real. We need each other. He is my best friend. I have let go of the wanting a relationship, and fantasizing about what might have been. But it would devastate me to lose him as a friend.

I still love T. It’s funny, but I never really fantasized about having a relationship with her. I know, without a doubt, that she loves her wife more than anything. I would never want to do anything to harm that. It still blows my mind to think of the fact that she literally worked right across the street from me 30 years ago. So many “what ifs”.

Because things have settled down, I can focus on my husband the way I should be doing. Every day, I realize how lucky and blessed I am that he’s mine.  I know that he will always have my back, and he would do anything in his power to protect me. And I know he loves me. I have never doubted that in almost 25 years.

I miss certain things. I miss the thrill of turning someone on, and getting them off. It was a power thing for me. I enjoyed making someone else lose control. And I miss being the one being controlled. I’m still a sexual person, it has just become more muted.

I have basically given up on the idea of ever experiencing sex with a female. That makes me sad, but it’s just something I have to deal with. I’m not saying that it will never happen, but it’s highly unlikely.

I cried the other night, thinking about being bisexual. Why did God have to make me this way? It was never a choice. And why did it take me 46 years to accept it? What good does it do me to learn that so late in life? It’s so frustrating.

It’s been 4 years since I came out, and I’m still adjusting. It upsets me to see how the world treats LGBT people. People literally want to kill me because I’m not straight. My husband asks why I even talk about it if that’s true. And I said because I won’t be silent just to make others comfortable. Maybe someone out there needs to hear my story, and know that they aren’t alone. Maybe it’s because I’ve always done my own thing, and I ignore what society says I should do.

Although I have changed in the last few years, I am still me. I don’t behave like I did. I don’t the compulsion for online sexual behavior. I am still a sexual person. I don’t have a problem talking about it, or discussing it. I’m not shy, and modest. Some people are offended by my honesty, and others appreciate. I just know that I live my life my way. I am what I am.



Not so tempted anymore

Last year, I met a guy on the Whisper app. He said he wanted me, I told him that he was wasting his time. We talked for months though. I was at a low point in my life, things weren’t great with my husband. I was tempted to give in.

I even went so far as to ask my husband if I could have a lover. Of course, he said no. While I wanted some excitement, I wasn’t going to screw around. I had already done enough damage to our marriage. When I finally got a job in December of last year, the guy quit talking to me.

Well, today, he messaged me again. When he said he was in my town for a few days, I knew he wanted something. He tells me he’s driving around, as hard as a rock. I said that I guessed he had to take matters into his own hands. Then he asked if I wanted him to come pick me up.

I didn’t even think about it. I told him no thanks, and that ship had sailed. And he quit talking to me.

In the recent past, I allowed boredom and depression to get the better of me. I did stupid things. (None of them physical, though) I flirted with random men, and even some women, online. It was very risky behavior.

But, I am not the person I was then. My life is still boring, but I don’t have the compulsion to try to fill a void by flirting. I don’t need, or want, that attention anymore. I have changed.

I can’t lie. For one second, I kind of regretted saying no. But just for a very brief moment. I’m not that type of woman, and I have way to much to lose by being that stupid.

I love my husband. I regret any of the pain I’ve ever caused him by my actions. He’s a good man, and doesn’t deserve that. While I can’t control the feelings I have for other people, I can control my physical actions. I won’t cheat. I’m sure the excitement might have been thrilling, nothing is worth losing the good man I have.

For a nanosecond, I considered it, and dismissed it. I am not perfect, but I’m working on being better. Apparently, I still need to work on that.


So different

I get in moods where I want to write, but the blinking cursor just mocks me. Sometimes the words flow, other times I can’t put my thoughts into words. I’m sitting here thinking about my life. On the surface, it seems pretty normal. I have an awesome husband, we have a house, two working vehicles, and we both work.

But below the surface, I am anything but typical. I am bisexual. That is more acknowledged now, than it was when I was young. I honestly did not know that was a legitimate sexuality. I knew what a lesbian was, but I thought you were either straight, or gay. Combined with my religious upbringing, and my ignorance, I couldn’t recognize that I was bisexual.

It took me 46 years to accept that I am bisexual. And once I did accept it, new problems arose. I love my husband, but then I was bombarded with the cravings to experience being with a woman. His thought that he should be enough. I shouldn’t want to be with a woman too. He didn’t/doesn’t understand that there is a difference between desiring a man, and a woman.

I haven’t had the experience of having sex with a woman. (And most likely, I won’t) I’ve had one sexual experience with a female. I fingered her, and I made her squirt. To me, that is a sexual act, but not quite sex. None of my clothes came off, and I wasn’t touched.

I didn’t have an emotional attachment to her. It happened in my van, in a parking lot. It wasn’t extremely satisfying for me, but it did confirm that I am physically attracted to women. And according to me friend, that makes me officially bisexual.

Not only am I bisexual, I love more than one person. Up until 4 years ago, I had no idea that it was even possible to love more than one person romantically. Then, three years ago, I fell for a third person.

In a way, the people I love show how open my heart is. My husband is ten years older than I am. He’s as white as can be. J is 18 years younger, and he’s black. Neither fact makes a difference to my heart. I do accept reality though. I was destined to love him, but not to ever be with him. I can deal with that. The third person… T is a white woman two years younger than I am. She’s married to a woman. Once again, I accept the love I have, but I know there is no relationship possible other than friendship.

So, I’m bisexual, and poly-amorous by nature. Both facts were a surprise to me. But the older I get, the more I learn about myself. There is always the thought in the back of my mind, “How could I not know that I am bisexual?” It’s kind of easy to ignore when you assume every female feels the same way towards other women.

I never had close female friends to discuss those feelings with. The attraction to males was a given. The attraction to females was never mentioned. Once again, I thought you could only be straight, or gay.

I wonder how different my life would have been had I known sooner. Would I have found a way to experiment with a female? Would I have even tried? Or would I have become self loathing, and ended my life?

I am a Christian. I don’t find a conflict between my faith, and my sexuality. I believe God made me who I am. The attraction I feel towards women is natural. Being in love with a woman is natural. But then again, being in love with two very different men is natural to me too.

I am an open minded person. I don’t have a problem with anyone until they give me a reason to have a problem. I don’t understand racism at all. How can you hate someone because of something they have absolutely no control over?

I know that I’ve written about these thoughts before. I’m like a broken record sometimes. But seeing my thoughts in print helps me to see things more clearly. I’m a simple person, but I’m also complicated. How many people can admit that they love three people romantically? It does seem bizarre, and a bit excessive.

My life seems normal, but I am not. I’m not average. I am unique. One of the most incredible things to me, is that I love three people, and they care for me too. It’s amazing to me to be on the receiving end of that love.

Sometimes, all I wanted to be, was normal. I didn’t want to be attracted to men & women. I wanted a normal body that functioned the way it’s supposed to. Instead, I got the fat genes, and I am infertile.

It’s funny how society has always told me that I’m not worthy of being loved because of what I am. But in reality, I am very well loved, and very blessed. I am not normal, and that doesn’t matter at all.

I am different. It is both a blessing, and a curse. I’m an empath, and that allows me to connect deeply with some people. I don’t have many close friends, but I have a few that mean the world to me. I love deeply.

Being different is often difficult. Being attracted to both sexes is awkward for me. I don’t know how to act. I am shy, and I get tongue tied. That’s painful.

So, I’m not normal. I get to love several people, and be loved back. I get to check out all kinds of people. I point out attractive women to my husband. (We both tend to like curvy women) I may appear normal to a casual onlooker, but I have a depth most people will never know. Being normal is over rated anyway.



Hurricane Andrew

Twenty five years ago, I was in Miami. Hurricane Andrew was approaching. I was excited, because I loved storms. I stayed out on our front porch as the storm made an appearance. The rain was salt water. The lightning flashes looked aqua. I think I was actually watching transformers blowing instead of seeing lightning.

I stayed outside as long as I could. The winds picked up, and my mom made me come inside. Inside the house were me, my parents, my sister, her husband & three kids, my brother, his wife and their four kids. The kids slept through everything.

I couldn’t sleep. The air pressure made my ears pop. There were things hitting the house. Water came pouring through the AC vent in my bedroom. (We discovered in the morning that a corner of the roof came off) Even though our front door was sort of protected, water seeped underneath.

The worst thing was the wind. It howled for hours. It seemed like it was never going to end. Finally, daylight came. The winds stopped. People ventured out of their houses. We were in disbelief. My neighborhood was hit hard, but it wasn’t completely destroyed. Our houses were built sturdy.

But just a few blocks away were newer houses. The only thing remaining of one house’s second floor was the wall frame hanging down. Those houses didn’t make it.

We went around our neighborhood. I saw a boat completely parallel up against a house. I saw huge trees completely toppled over. The bakery at the local strip mall had put up masking tape on the windows. The glass was completely gone, but the masking tape strips were still dangling.

The roof had collapsed on the Publix grocery store. The windows were broken on the liquor store, and people were reaching in for what they could grab. It was chaos.

The area I grew up in was devastated. So many things were gone. In the following days, I saw even worse than my neighborhood. My friend, Tracy, picked me up. We went to the trailer park where she used to live. Maybe 3 out of 50 homes were still standing. We went to her house. I remember her obsessing about the mold on her walls, but her house was so damaged, that it wasn’t really livable.

I went to Homestead Air Force Base with my sister, and her husband. The base was completely destroyed. The duplex she lived in was missing the roof on the east facing side. That side was empty except for the heaviest furniture. Her side was soaked because all the windows had been blown out.

I lost the job I had only had for a few weeks. I never even got my check from there. I went to the restaurant, and it was trashed.

My family was lucky. We didn’t have any running water for a few days, but it came back on. The our minister’s son-in-law was the vice president of a company, and they loaned out some of the generators they had. My parents got one because of how many people we had in the house. (My brother and his family went back home to Maryland) So we had electricity to run the fridge & some other things.

We didn’t run out of food. The Red Cross came through our neighborhood, and gave us military MRE meals. We got donations that were sent to our church.

I remember the heat. It was so hard to sleep. I tried sleeping on the back deck, but got covered in dew. I tried sleeping on our front porch, but had one of the most surreal experiences of my life.

Our porch had a three-foot high concrete wall, so it was blocked from the street. I felt safe enough there. I was sleeping, and something woke me up. I was afraid it might be looters, so I peeked over the wall. I saw a squadron of armed national guardsmen walking down my street. It was like something out of the Twilight Zone. For the first time, I was really afraid.

I stayed for about a month after the storm. I got in touch with the restaurant that I had worked at in Delaware, and the manager said I could have my job back. I thought that I had a roommate lined up too, but that didn’t work out. I left Miami. I had no idea that I wouldn’t make it back there again.

Hurricane Andrew changed my life. I didn’t lose anything physical. My car had been in the garage (it was only one small enough to fit in it) I lost my job, but that was it. I lost my home in the emotional sense. My parents moved from Miami. My family scattered all over.

It was a traumatic event in my life. I still can’t handle the sound of wind howling. Storms scare me. I get frustrated when people take storm warnings too lightly.

It did teach to me to appreciate some things more. I will never take showers for granted again. The first few days after the storm, we didn’t have water. When it rained, I would put on my bathing suit, and stand under the corner downspout to wash my hair.

Hurricane Andrew changed so many things. That was the last time I saw my sister, Sue. Her husband did drugs again, and she ended up losing her kids. My parents moved to Arkansas.

I didn’t lose things, I just lost my sense of peace. I lost my hometown. My life has felt rootless ever since. I have lived in my current home for 19 years, but it still doesn’t feel like home sometimes. I lost my sense of family, and belonging.

I am a survivor. I survived the storm. I survived the aftermath. I moved on. I will never forget the storm, it left scars on my psyche. But I did survive. I am still here. I survived a category 5 hurricane. Hurricane Andrew was the before/after event in my life. It was the dividing line for me. But I came out stronger, and I just have to remember that.





I won’t stay silent

I am 50 years old, and I am bisexual. My husband can not understand why I mention it. He says that since there are people who would kill me for that fact, so why don’t I remain silent? Because I am not going to let those people win.

It is highly unlikely that I will ever have a romantic, or sexual relationship with a woman. I am married to a man. I pass as straight. I could stay quiet, but I won’t. I don’t walk up to people, and announce my sexuality, but I will talk about it when the subject comes up. I blog about it, because seeing my thoughts in print sometimes helps me deal with things better. I will post on Twitter or Facebook regard LGBT issues.

I won’t silence myself to make other people comfortable. I do not have to accept their hatred, or bigotry. I have lost “friends”. I was told by my own sister that I have the devil in me. That hurt. Nothing I say will change her opinion that it’s a choice, but I can call her on her shit.

I didn’t come out until I was 46. I haven’t spent my entire life in fear of being discovered. I accepted it as a middle aged adult, in a committed relationship. I had no fear of losing anything/anyone of value. That has made me sort of bold. I didn’t have to worry about losing jobs, or housing.

I speak about being bisexual, because I can. Because maybe there is someone out there who needs to hear that it’s normal. That we aren’t freaks just because we are attracted to men, and women.

I have been attracted to women my entire life. It always seemed natural to me. In a way, that was my saving grace. Before I accepted my sexuality, I accepted that you can’t control who you are attracted to, or who you fall in love with. It just happens. Society can tell you that it’s not normal, because they don’t understand it. But, it is normal. Just because it’s not common, doesn’t mean that it’s wrong.

My husband wishes that I wasn’t bi. He was happy thinking that he was all I’d ever want. I love him dearly, but a part of me will always crave a woman. I hate that it effects him negatively. In all honesty, if I could choose to not be bisexual, I would. But I can’t. It is as much of my DNA as having green eyes.

My name is Ellen, and I am bisexual. I am attracted to, and can fall in love with a man, or a woman. I should not have to fear losing my job, my home, or my life because of it. I shouldn’t have to fight for equal rights because of it. I shouldn’t be told I’m going to hell because of the way God made me.

I’m sorry that it bothers my husband, but I honestly don’t care what anyone else thinks about it. I can’t change what I am. It isn’t a choice. I could stay silent, and pass as being straight, but I won’t. Too many people have suffered because of who they are. I have a voice, and even if only one person hears it, I will speak the truth.



I am 50 years old, and I still don’t know what my purpose in life is. My life has been strange. People have been born because of me, and people have died because of me. People have lived because of me.

Nothing about me has ever been normal. I have been different my entire life. I am shy, and introverted. I’ve always been chubby/fat. I’m not very feminine. I have social anxiety.

I have hurt people, and I have helped people. I have loved, and been loved. People have hated me.

I am bisexual. Some people ask why that’s important. It’s important because I am able to love, no matter their gender. It took me most of my life to accept that. I lost 46 years of being able to know what it was to be bisexual.

I will never really know why I couldn’t accept it earlier. Maybe it was religion. Maybe it was society. Maybe it was my homophobic brother. Maybe it’s because I wasn’t ready to know.

Sometimes I envy people who know when they’re young. They get that chance to explore when their bodies, and minds are young.  I’m older. I don’t have those chances. It’s not impossible for me to explore, but it’s not likely.

The last four years have been a roller coaster ride for me. I had my amazing husband, but I managed to fall in love with two more people. The second person was an absolute shock. I had no idea that it was even possible to love more than one person.

I learned to accept it though. I accepted that I loved him, but I could not be with him. I made peace with it. Then something even more surprising happened. I fell in love with a woman. Once again, I had to accept that I loved her, but there was no way to be with her.

So, I love three very different people. I am blessed when it comes to love. I don’t think that I am worthy of that love. I don’t deserve my husband. It makes me sad to know that I have caused him pain because of the other two.

My life is strange. I’m very well loved. I don’t know why God put any of them in my life, but I’m grateful.

I’ve been watching the latest season of Degrassi: the Next Class. I know it’s meant for kids, but some story lines touched me too. Like Miles being bisexual. I know that being gay is not easy, but sometimes I think it’s easier than being bi.

My sexuality is not a major part of my life, but it’s always right there. I’m attracted to men, and I am attracted to women. Sometimes I want to scream in frustration. I want so badly to be intimate with a woman, and I can’t.

People are like, “Just go find a woman”. I wish it were that simple. Men are simple. I could have sex with another guy without any trouble looking. Women are so much more difficult. So, sex with men is possible, but sex with a woman is not likely.

I have accepted that. Life goes on. I won’t get to know what certain things feel like.

I don’t even know why I’m writing this post. I’ve blogged about this before. I accept that I love three people. I accept that I can’t be with two of them.

I accept that I am not average. I still have no clue why I exist, but here I am. Life is funny. I exist, and I am loved. Maybe that’s the most important thing after all.



I am 50 years old now, and I have more than my share of regrets. I think my biggest regret was that it took 46 years for me to accept that I am bisexual. I didn’t suddenly become bi, it just took me that long to learn that the feelings I’ve had my entire life made it a fact.

Imagine not knowing such a basic fact about yourself like what your own sexuality is. I’ve always been attracted to other females, I didn’t know that not every female felt the same way. I didn’t know that what I felt about my fourth grade teacher was in fact a crush, and not just admiring her.

Facts…I am bisexual. One of my earliest memories was looking at a porn magazine, and liking the pictures of women. I didn’t know what sex was. I didn’t know that I wasn’t supposed to like seeing those women. I didn’t know that some people considered it “unnatural”. It felt natural to me.

Because I was also attracted to males, I didn’t feel weird. I didn’t think that I was odd. I looked at porn when I came across it (considering this was the 70s & 80s, I saw quite a bit for such a sheltered child)  I knew porn was supposed to be “wrong”, so I felt guilty about that, but not because I was looking at women.

I didn’t accept myself until I was 46. I had been married for 20 years at that point. A year after that, my husband agreed to let me explore. I’m sure in his mind, he thought there wasn’t a chance of me finding someone to explore with. I did go on a few dates with a lesbian I met on Craigslist.

That was a rather bizarre experience, mostly because she was a rather flaky person. But she did do one thing, she gave me my one and only sexual experience with another female. I got her off, but she didn’t touch me. I kind of still think of myself as a virgin when it comes to female sex. My fingering her was the equivalent to giving a blow job to a man. It is a sex act, but not actual intercourse.

So my regret stems from coming out so late in life. I didn’t get the chance to explore when I was younger, and not so self conscience. I’m 50, and going through menopause now. My body has changed. I don’t think I could ever relax enough to actually get naked, and have sex with a woman. I regret that I will not get to experience that kind of intimacy.

I am bisexual, and I crave that intimacy. I want to touch another woman. I want to snuggle with her. I want to be close, and be able to caress her. I want the stupid, and sappy things. Just because I am married to a man I love deeply, that doesn’t stop me from wanting those things. I am not greedy, and I’m not selfish. I am biologically wired to want those things.

I wish that I had known that I was bi when I was younger. But I don’t think I was mature enough to deal with it. I was raised in a religious household. I was heavily involved in church, and I went to a Christian college for two years. Even if I had known, I was too shy and introverted to even attempt to meet a woman for the purpose of dating.

There are times when I wish that I was still ignorant. I wish that I still thought that I was straight. Why did I have to learn it? I suppose that I needed to know. I fell in love with a woman. There is nothing I can do about that. I am married to my husband, and she is married to her wife. Why did that have to happen?

I think that is one of the most bittersweet events in my life.  I have the knowledge that I can love a woman in a romantic way. I also have the knowledge that all I can do is love her, and accept that it isn’t something that was meant to become a relationship. I can live with that.

The irony is, we both lived in Miami when I was in my early 20s. She literally worked right across the street from me. But I met her online 25 years later. There will always be that “what if” in my mind. Even if nothing happened, I wish I could have met her, and just have known her then.

I do have regrets that it took me so long to figure things out. But it wasn’t meant to happen sooner. I’m not sure why it had to happen at all. The knowledge has caused grief. It has caused problems in my marriage. It’s like showing someone a bakery window, but telling them that they aren’t allowed inside to try anything.

If I had accepted my sexuality in my youth, where would I be now? I most likely wouldn’t be around at all. I wouldn’t be married to my husband.

They say everything happens for a reason. I believe God made me this way.  So, at the very least, I don’t have an issue with believing it’s wrong or unnatural. I will just always wonder why it took me so long to come to terms with it.

Do I regret that I am bisexual? Sometimes I do. It has caused problems. It is troubling to know that there are people who would kill me because of it. It annoys me that people fetishize it, or think that my sexuality exists because it increases their chance of having a threesome.

I think I most regret the idea I will not get to experience being intimate with a woman. It’s not impossible for it to happen, but it’s extremely unlikely. I have regrets, but they are about things that can’t be changed now. Maybe things will change, but for now, I just have to be content with how things are.