Maybe BiSexuals Should Just Keep Quiet

Dear Guthrie:

Well. I just received your forward about the "known bisexuals and other perverts of the celebrity world." Hmmm...It's interesting to think about and consider. However, I must say -

As a publicly out bisexual myself, I know *exactly* why these people are in. There is very little payday in outing yourself. I personally think more people should do it and then there'd be less stigma for the rest of us, but I think it's a hard decision to make, unless you're an opinionated, in-your-face-asshole like me who's willing to take such risks.

Women frequently reject me because I'm a cocksucker - gay men frequently reject me because they don't trust me (and they probably shouldn't.) Straight men are afraid - even friends sorta act weird when I hug them, except for a few. (I grabbed a friend's tit the other night, not at all in a sexual manner (to me) and he looked really afraid. I had to apologize profusely and assure him I didn't want to get into his pants.)

I can't tell you how many times I've been in situations with *BISEXUAL* women who are into me and then I out myself and they freeze. Such fucking bullshit - "bisexuality with women is erotic, with men it's perverted." Whatever.

I just like sex, and I tend to like it in all kinds of weird combos, situations, genders, toys, outfits, etc. I probably like it too much. I've contemplated the possibility that I'm a sex addict and thought about going to SA meetings, but I'd probably just end up fucking everyone there. (Though probably not - you ever been to one? I have. There are some ugly motherfuckers at Sex Addicts Anonymous Meetings - go figure.)

People often ask me - which do you like better? I hate the question because it implies that there are "gradations" of bisexuality, and if I say I like women better, straight people can breathe easier and consider my cocksucking a passing phase, and if I say I like men better, everyone can firmly slip me into the box marked "Closet Case," or "Fence-Sitter." Life is long, bubba, and while the majority of my sex partners have been and continue to be female, I do sometimes imagine myself retired someday living with an old dear male friend, playing canasta and preparing canapes and cocktails for the lesbian couple down the street. Who knows how we'll end up, any of us...

Hollywood has been loaded with Queers since Day One - almost any decent star of note has had rumors circulating about their ability to get down with the same sex. Errol Flynn, Mickey Rooney, Judy Garland, jesus, I don't really have enough space to list people from the Golden Era of Hollywood, when all the taboos were in place, much less now, when Madonna and Britney Spears can still cause a stir by french-kissing on national TV but still not hurt their reputations in any meaningful way.

Sometimes I think I might as well go back in the closet - I know that one of the things that intrigues me most about bisexuality (other than the fact that naked wrasslin' around with other men is kinda HOT) is that it's an ambiguous identification. Neither here nor there. Beyond Cartesian duality. A 3rd World in the best sense of the term.

But lately, it seems like it might be more ambiguous not to tell anyone. To screech obsceneties in my faggy little high-pitched voice, say "Omigod" like a little girl when I'm happy or upset, but also to wear the wrong clothes, live like a slob and tell pussy jokes wherever I go, never telling anyone SHIT about my identification, because they're going to try and make a guess anyway, why help them along when I can just be as ambiguous as the Mona Lisa, her half-smile hiding (according to the Da Vinci Code) the secrets of the Mother Goddess and a whole other world of possibilities?