The worst part about being a bisexual is that I don't like dick.
Everything from the waist up looks good and tastes great,
and everything below the thighs is strong, and sturdy, and
everything that I need to keep me up when
I can't stand on my own two feet, but
the fact is that what lies just below his hipbones is
everything that I don't want in a man… Or woman…
And I hate it that he looks so damn fine in that lingerie I got him last year for Christmas,
because I can't look at his arousal for my body without wanting to run for the hills.
I like knowing that my body doesn't make him want to run for the hills,
but the hills are calling out to me, even if my only company is sheep,
and let me tell you, I really don't want to a fuck sheep anytime soon.
I also don't want to fuck anyone besides him, but I don't have that option right now.
It takes too long to fall in love, and I'm not a cheater, a hooker-upper, or someone who even remotely likes sex, but damn to I want to get laid right the fuck now, even though I can't. Or won't. Either or, the choice is up to us,
the two of us, as a unit if cells that want to become one, but can't because we are two very different types of cells. He's a sperm cell, and I'm a piece of shit. Nothing can be made from the two of us besides something gross in the toilet that has no where to go but down, and down, and down.
I don't know. I think I'm just cursed to spend the rest of my life as a
bi-romantic vagina-sexual, a vag-etarian who keeps on falling for
sausage fans and butchers.
But maybe it's a good thing.
The last man I fell for turned out to be a woman in the end anyway.