It was a brilliant and absolutely packed party that we’d both hosted. Now we’re left alone in the chaos, dozing on a mattress in the middle of the room. The day has already begun. A new year! He’s gorgeous with his long blond hair and delicate features. No wonder so many people are smitten with him. I’m enjoying spending so much time with him and doing things together.
When he suddenly touches me, it takes me completely by surprise. I thought he was asleep. A moment that opens up like a door. I turn towards him, but keep my eyes closed. He, too, pretends it’s just a chance touch in his sleep. Or so I think. We gently rub our bodies against one another. Eventually, we fall asleep.
Over a latte, he makes a nice comment. But we talk about other things. As we part, I give him a quick kiss. For a long time afterwards, I’d hoped we’d become intimate again. Sometimes we’d lie naked in bed together. But my advances weren’t reciprocated. I think he didn’t dare any more. The moment had passed.
It was my first tender and romantic experience with a man. It was an exciting time. We were young.
Sometimes I look back with a smile. Men and women have come into my life and left again. But that one moment will always stay with me. Perhaps it was love. So unfulfilled, yet still beautiful.
A few years ago.
My feet carry me lightly. They seem to be floating. I’m on my way home, enveloped in a feeling of validation and liberation. My first Bi+Meetup.
In the middle of summer, I happened to walk past this huge flag in shades of pink, purple and blue at the CSD. Lots of people had to hold up this flag. After a while, someone asked me. I took a piece of it and didn’t let go of it until the very end. We then folded it up together: „Why don’t you come to the meeting?“
I saw a few familiar faces when I turned up at the Bi+ regulars’ get-together. Nowadays, I host Bi+Meetups, and I ask others how exciting their first visit was. All the conversations I’ve had over the years have been a constant source of comfort. Here, I can also dress in a feminine style, as I’ve always wanted to but never dared to.
These days, I’m delighted when new faces turn up at the meet-ups. I hope this safe space can help them. Outside of these meet-ups, too, I try to be the person I’ve always wanted to be. Confident and strong.
The other day, a new colleague introduced himself: „I’m so-and-so, I do this and that, and I’m straight.“ No, that’s actually never happened. But it would have been a good way to start a conversation. „Since when? How did you realise?“
Coming out: it’s complicated – it’s not a ‘must-have’ and it’s not a seal of approval either!
But when did you come out? „On all sorts of occasions,“ I’d say. In a diverse society – however much I might wish for it – I simply assume the „worst“: the person I’m talking to is different from me. Visibility is important and helps combat prejudice! Coming out can also encourage others to come out too.
And whilst the visible protests and resistance on Christopher Street, at the Stonewall Inn in 1969 and later were so important, the situation today remains the same, yet is nonetheless different.
And if anyone wants to ask me, they’re welcome to. There are lots of answers. Because we’re all different.
„My doctor says I must have caught it recently, and the only person I’ve had unprotected sex with is you,“ I wrote in the chat. „And you really should get tested for it,“ I added. I would have phoned as well, but we hadn’t been in touch for several weeks. And I wanted to bring the matter up in a completely matter-of-fact way, without placing the blame on anyone.
All right, the last few times I was annoyed by his drug binges. When we went out, he only really got going when the rest of us were already tipsy and ready to head home. And then in bed, he was all the more horny. Maybe that was the point. But I wasn’t really in the mood, even though his bum felt lovely as he stuck it out towards me. And as I was just about able to manage it, it happened again. Without a condom.
It felt all right, too, because we’d been together for quite a while and I trusted him.
We never talked about it. Nor was it a proper relationship. At least, not one we’d actually talked about. I bumped into him again by chance a while later. He didn’t look well. Maybe it was the drugs. I really don’t know why I can’t handle this better. I can only count myself lucky that, apart from that one time, it all turned out all right. Now everything’s fine again – at least for me. I just don’t know if I’ve really learnt this lesson.
