Bisexual dating women and men

After my relationship ended, like many other newly single women, I bought a pint of chocolate ice cream, curled up on the couch, and was bewitched while watching Alan Rickman in Sense and Sensibility. A weeklong pity party ended with me writing a list of hard requirements for any new partner. I vowed that I wouldn’t allow myself to be in another three-year relationship in which I would be both emotionally and physically unsatisfied; vowed that I would find someone who enjoyed making me feel good, just as I enjoy making my partners feel good; and vowed that I would find someone who didn’t fear affection.

A year later, I am only beginning to understand how delusional I am.

I have trouble dating both men and womxn at the same time, likely because they require a completely different approach. Men are eager and forward, and it’s often easy to understand what they want. Women are more subtle, and it’s harder for me to know where I stand with them. Because of this, I’m either wholly interested in womxn or wholly interested in men. The transition from one to the other is usually triggered by a string of shitty dates from the current gender of choice.

Some things are different between the sexes, while others are the same. Here’s what I’ve learned. Spoiler: everyone is terrible when they’re trying to find love.

This year was the first time I’ve exclusively focused on dating womxn, triggered by a string of horrible dates with men. It took me years to figure out that men like to deny they ever said something, even though you have proof. They’re dismissive. They question your sanity. They blame you for their words. It’s your fault if you were offended by their offensive comments.

I’m not writing them off completely, but by the time I got to the date that made me switch sides, I was exhausted by the constant need to step on eggshells in order to avoid damaging the fragile male ego.

The last date I went on, before my decision to focus on womxn, was with a man in his late forties — a literature professor who took me to a bar and made me question my decision to date men again 20 minutes into the date.

“I was teaching this workshop with my friend. My friend had his book made into a movie. With Robert De Niro,” he told me. I told him, gently, that I hadn’t heard of the book.

“Okay. What do you write?” he asked me.

“Fiction, mostly.”

“You write fiction? You should probably know who my friend is, then!”

By accidentally invalidating his brag, I found myself at the end of another fragile male ego. According to him, there was clearly a gap in my literary knowledge. I should reevaluate myself — hesitate to call myself a writer or a reader of any pursuit.

He then spent the next half hour telling me that Cormac McCarthy is a wannabe Faulkner.

I ghosted him.

Womxn ghost men, and womxn ghost womxn. I can’t count the number of dates I’ve had with men, only to ignore their messages after the date turned out to be crap. It’s easier — and admittedly, more cowardly — to ignore someone instead of telling them, “I’m just not into you.”

Women seem to enjoy giving and receiving. Men, on the other hand, don’t seem to have a problem with falling asleep after you go down on them for an hour.

Men, on the other hand, prefer the soft ghost. When they flake out or decide they aren’t interested, they’ll keep telling you, “We can try again next week,” repeating this until you realize it’s never going to happen. They want to keep their options open, just in case they can’t find someone better.

Men complain that womxn are impossible to figure out, and I agree.

I’ve experienced one-off flings ending in mutual satisfaction. In my experience, it’s more likely that I’ll come every time with a woman. Women seem to enjoy giving and receiving. Men, on the other hand, don’t seem to have a problem with falling asleep after you go down on them for an hour.

For the straight women who just hate men — and really wish they were lesbians — I have news for you: dating womxn sucks just as much as dating men. Dating just sucks — period.

Sometimes these flings resulted in a relationship of sorts: taking each other to Walgreens the day after Valentine’s Day (when all the chocolate goes on clearance), buying each other obnoxiously large stuffed bears and discount chocolates — that were later to be fed out of fingers, to stain skin and smear lips — but never meeting each other’s friends and never regarding it as more than just fucking.

Committing myself to only dating women, embracing my queerness, has been an enlightening experience. For the straight women who just hate men — and really wish they were lesbians — I have news for you: dating womxn sucks just as much as dating men. Dating just sucks — period.

On my first date with a woman, I found myself at a club. I would never find myself at a club with a man, because it’s not something I enjoy. There was music blasting in my ear. I was unwillingly pressed against bodies, and I needed to shout at my date just to talk to her. I decided to stay and dance with her to music I didn’t like, just to please her. It would be good for me, I thought, to open myself up to new experiences. But she ended up grinding against some man she met on the dance floor and proceed to make out with him. I left without saying goodbye.

It was like I was back in high school, trying to fit in with people I didn’t like. I walked away realizing that I don’t need to enjoy myself on dates just because it’s with a woman.

I may have embraced my queerness, but that didn’t mean I’ve found a formula for human relationships. I am awkward and quiet; small talk isn’t something I’ve figured out yet. With that said, I’ve managed to sort out a list of preliminary steps to dating womxn. It’s a complicated ritual compared to my method for dating men, which involves doing absolutely nothing.

I’ve learned that queer womxn communicate who they fundamentally are through the stars, and this information may be the only thing on someone’s Tinder profile. Sun, moon, and rising signs communicate likes, dislikes, desires, and hopes for the future. I found out that Virgo womxn won’t date me, but fellow Aquarius womxn like me because I’m a wild card.

Womxn have me questioning my sex appeal in ways I never would with a man.

After realizing that listing my Myers-Brigs personality type (INTJ) wasn’t enough, I texted my mom to find out that I was born a few minutes after midnight, which tells me that I am a Gemini moon and a Scorpio rising, and that I have “a lot of cap,” according to a friend.

Maybe astrology is the queer womxn’s “Are you a friend of Dorothy?” a phrase used by gay men as a euphemism to find other gay men. This started when homosexuality was illegal in the US. Or perhaps queer women found themselves alienated from traditional patriarchal, monotheistic religions that have been historically anti-gay.

I don’t speak the secret language of astrology, so I still have no fucking idea what it all means, but I was able to update my profile — and not waste anyone’s time.

I found myself on a date with a beautiful woman: a Berkeley PhD student studying literature. She charmed me when I took her to a bookstore in the Mission, pointing at the books and asked me to “show [her my] friends.”

She was witty, articulate, and ambitious — my dream girl. She liked the fact that I said “fuck” three times in a given sentence, despite the fact that she was so well-spoken. She should have questioned my ability to speak English.

A few dates in, I realized I had no idea how to approach kissing her. If she were a man, I thought, it would be obvious. Men, generally speaking, are easy to read. A man’s arousal is overt — there’s no mistaking the intention. A woman’s desire is hidden. It’s a common joke in queer circles that many queer womxn are often romantically inept. They can’t take a hint, no matter how obvious it is. Is she making eye contact with me and touching my arm because she’s friendly, or is she into me?

I have no idea when another queer womxn is flirting — and no idea who is supposed to make the first move. I didn’t even know if my date was sexually attracted to me. Womxn have me questioning my sex appeal in ways I never would with a man. Womxn have standards that men don’t have.

Finally, she helped me out. Sitting on BART, she coyly looked around, determined that there weren’t that many people (men) on the train and said, “Do you want to kiss a little?”

It was gentle and perfect. My confidence climbed, and I returned the kiss, pushing it a bit further. Running my thumb across her jaw and taking a break to nibble on her ear and her bottom lip. When we finished, she held my hand until my stop.

I texted her as soon as I got home. Three dates in, I wasn’t in love with her, but I easily could be. She checked all my boxes: academic, funny, ambitious, affectionate, kinky, and beautiful. Finally, I understood the joke about lesbians bringing a U-Haul to the second date.

Then, she ghosted me. I wondered where I went wrong. Was it the kiss? Was it my introverted disposition? I didn’t know.

No matter what your sexual orientation, dating sucks. Forcing yourself to be naked, vulnerable, and out in the wild is painful, no matter what your orientation is. Making a connection only to see it evaporate is isolating, even if it’s a universal experience. It’s all part of the drive to find intimacy, commitment, and passion — a survival tool for such a harsh wilderness.

Despite it all, I’m still swiping.