Yesterday evening, as we were relaxing after just finishing our evening meal, Dave said to me, “I read  your WordPress blog this afternoon.”

“You read the latest entry I wrote this afternoon?” I asked.

“Uh-huh,” he confirmed.

I had not as yet given him the details of what all has happened this week between Randi Sue and me.  In part, I’ve been a bit embarrassed that I have found myself in this situation again.  It happens from time to time, and as I said in a previous blog, my vow was not to rush into sexual relationships with people, which I have had a tendency to do.   Dave was given instructions to remind me of that if I ever called home on a first or second date again and said that I wasn’t coming home that night (barring being too drunk to drive — also not a good thing!)

Well, he wasn’t around to remind me of that last Wednesday evening nor last Friday night.  Not that withholding a sexual encounter would necessarily keep a person from “falling in love” with me.  That can happen in the absence of sex, as I well know from my own experience.

Nonetheless, I hadn’t rushed into telling him every detail of this past week with Randi Sue.  He knew enough by the time he had finished reading my previous post.  As (almost) always, he was understanding, sympathetic, supportive, and we had a good talk last night.  I unburdened my soul to him, a process that always makes me feel better and less alone.

We talked quite a bit about this phenomenon known as “being in love,” and I told him who was on my Short List.  Him, of course.  (He was relieved to hear that!)  I did recall aloud last night that we had only known each other about six weeks and had been dating for a month when those three little words were mutually spoken to each other 37 years ago.  Not a lengthy period of time to know each other before saying, “I love you!”  However, when I said those words to him for the first time, there was no hesitancy about saying those words.  I meant it from the bottom of my heart.  I knew them to be true and right.  There was never any question about it, no second thoughts.  There never has been with him.

I don’t fall in love easily.  I’m pretty reserved about that emotion, if one actually does have control over that emotion.  I’ve been in love six times for sure.  Four of those times were with men: my boyfriend from my teens, Henry, then Dave, and two Johns.  John #1 was the brother of a good friend of mine in high school, and he and I began a relationship while I was around their house a lot during the six months I was involved in the engagement festivities of his older sister.  I was one of her bridesmaids in her 1974 wedding.  Maggie got married and moved off to Columbus, Ohio, and her brother, a young man who was then struggling with his gay sexual orientation, and I continued our relationship.  That relationship went on for another three years, although it was by and large an intellectual and long-distance relationship.  I haven’t seen him since 1977, but I still think about him and hope all is well.

John #2 was a Family Practice physician I worked with in 1977.  We kept in touch after I left that clinic’s employ.  He was a married man 11 years older than me with four kids.  On the night we made love for the first time, I was 24 and he was 35.  I was in love with him until the summer of 1985, even though I only saw him less than a handful of times during those years.  I went from loving him intensely and deeply to feeling literally nothing for the man when I found out what all came out as his divorce proceedings at that time: he had been physically abusing his wife.  There were times when his wife would end up at the E.R. after John had dragged her around by her hair and blackened her eye.  Stuff like that.  I felt sick, and that was that.  It was over, and I shuddered to think that I wasted my love on the man, that I was ever alone with him.

Then there were two outwardly platonic friendships with high school friends that never played out in any sexual and/or romantic sense, but I was in love with both of those young women: Lorrie, a neighbor girl, whom I had known since she was 11 years old and stayed in touch with until she was 25, and then Marie, a high school classmate of mine.  (Marie died when she was 40-years-old of some kind of cancer.  I was heartbroken when I read that obituary in 1995.)  I loved those two women, but it was unrequited love.

Yes, there have been some relationships other than those which qualified for “in love” status that have caused their share of emotional pleasure and pain, and have been deep and meaningful relationships in their own right.  I’ve loved individuals without feeling that intense emotion I associate as “being in love.” 

I took note of the fact that all of these “in love” relationship began much earlier in my life, in my teens and early 20s.  Does age and/or hormone levels affect this phenomenon?  I would speculate that it does.  It is a powerful drive to pair off with a mate and want to express that desire sexually.  I think that age, experience, multiple time and energy commitments such as career and family, and decreasing hormone levels makes the “in love” phenomenon less common in older individuals — older individuals such as myself!

And this led to a discussion last night about whether trans individuals who have just recently made the full transition to living physically as the gender they self-identify as being are more susceptible to this “in love” phenomenon due to the newness of their lives, the novelty, the inexperience, and the effect of recently-initiated levels of sex hormones on the brain and other organs.  I’ve had two experiences lately of middle-aged (late 40s to late 50s) trans women being “in love” on the basis of a first date and another such experience that occurred 18 months ago!

I don’t know if there will ever be more people to add to my Short List of individuals whom I have been in love with.  That may or may not happen.  We’ll see.

My horoscope for today, courtesy of Holiday Mathis in the Twin Cities Star Tribune newspaper, reads: “Getting back to basics is a personal process, since what is ‘basic’ to you is not even in the realm for someone else.  Get what you need without wondering why you need it or telling yourself that you shouldn’t need it.”

Interesting advice.  Of course, these horoscope snippets found here and there are always subject to one’s own interpretation in light of whatever may be going on in one’s life at the moment.

I’m in a “patch” again, brought about by a evening a week ago Friday that ended by feeling an emotional connection with a person.  We impulsively kissed at the end of Friday evening.  Necked, even.  Wednesday evening, it went further than that at her house.  Friday evening at my house, she announced that she thought she was falling in love.  She emailed that she loves me on Sunday.  She’s intent on being my “girlfriend.”

She said that she hoped I wasn’t scared by this.  Well, yes, honestly, I am freaked.  I don’t fall in love in a week’s time.  I haven’t done that kind of thing since my teens and early 20s.  It’s been a long time since I’ve had that feeling of “being in love.”  (I’ll grandfather my husband in on this emotion, however, since I felt that “in love” feeling very strongly towards him in the earlier months and years of our relationship, and it slowly developed into a deeper, more enduring kind of lifelong love and partnership.)

I need a relationship to develop more slowly, learning about each other along the way to know if a deeper, more enduring relationship is a feasibility given all the other circumstances in my life (i.e. married and bisexual, full time job, lots of demands for my time and attention.)  This “in love” process in the matter of a week is something I just can’t relate to.  Yes, I’m pragmatic and logical, not impulsive and emotional.  Usually.  I must confess that I didn’t behave like my usual pragmatic and logical self a week ago Friday evening, and that confession doesn’t really feel good now.

Does that make me wrong for wanting a relationship to proceed at a slower, more conservative pace?  Does it make me wrong for feeling skeptical, hesitant and concerned about the future of a relationship based on such an impulsive beginning?  Does it make me less of a feeling, caring person for needing my space, needing to grow in trust and sharing rather than jumping into it with both feet (and an arm and a leg?) 

I don’t think so, but I feel like the “bad guy” here for wanting to back off from my “girlfriend’s” level of intensity and involvement.  Frankly, I just don’t know what to do with it right now!

She is an unattached woman right now, not in any other romantic relationships, and on the rebound from recently splitting with her spouse.  I find it hard to imagine that her intense emotional involvement with a woman who is clear about her marriage being her primary relationship is fated to be a positive experience long term.  I see her wanting a one-on-one relationship with someone she can come home to every evening, someone to share her bed every night, someone who puts her first above all others — like my husband is to me.  I won’t be that person to her, and I will disappoint her, sadden her, and it will end.  This is the pragmatic, logical side of me speaking, but why go there? 

Yes, why go there?

I’m just not sure what to do with this.

In my previous post, Transcending Trans, I published a letter that I sent six days ago to not one but two trans women in my life.

Anne (not her real name) was the woman who had contacted me via a dating site, and I wrote about that contact and meeting in the post, Caffeine Hangover.  Even before we met that first evening to go to the Bisexual Organizing Project’s women’s-only evening at Wilde Roast Cafe called Chic Chat, she had sent me a brief email that said, “This makes me really glad that you are willing to go to Chic Chat with me.  Don’t give up on BOP just because of Millie.  You know, the irony of our situation has not escaped me.  You and I first met on a dating service when you had given up on dating services, and I was the one who made that original posting for the BECAUSE conference you found.  And yes, when Lynn was talking about who had helped make the conference possible, my name was in the list.  Please, take it as a sign that I was fated to be here for you…”

I responded to that email by saying that I had taken it as a sign, and I had.  Fate had given me a second chance to get involved in the bisexual community here in the Twin Cities.  Fate had snagged me by the back of the jacket as I was running from Millie again and all those attendant emotions and said, “Hey, come back here!  Here is a supportive friend who is willing to go with you and introduce you to some people.  Go!”  I had not gone down the path, though, of thinking that this woman was slated to be a romantic partner because of the means of our introduction and some common events in our background.  I approached it from the standpoint of making a friend and building some connections, an important thing in and of itself.

She said nothing in her profile on the dating site that suggested her status as a trans woman, and that’s okay.  However, my experience with that situation in the past was that individuals have been upfront about these circumstances, even if it’s in a rather oblique, subtle way at first, not wanting to surprise or discomfit their dates in any way.   It just puts that set of circumstances out there right away and prevents any misunderstanding or embarrassment later should this be an unsettling situation for the date.  I figured it out on my own in three seconds when I picked her up at her house that Saturday evening, visually took in her stature and bone structure and the male timbre of her voice.  I knew what her basic circumstances were without knowing any of the specific details.

We had a pleasant-enough evening going to Chic Chat that Saturday, but I was relieved that it wasn’t a one-on-one date.  She was difficult to engage socially.  She had split with her spouse of close to thirty years within recent months and was seriously depressed.  It was readily apparent that there were many stressors in her life, and she was just hanging on day to day emotionally.  And then there was her status in an “extended, polyamorous family,” a situation I approach with a great deal of reservation as a potential participant until I know the details of that configuration.   My conclusion by the end of that evening due to multiple factors in her life was that this was a person I had no interest in getting romantically involved with.  I was interested in being her friend.

However, that Saturday night, I had no sooner dropped her off at her house and returned home when I had an email waiting for me that said what a nice evening she had had and she wondered if she should have kissed me goodnight or invited me in.  I replied, no, I was in no hurry to take things in that direction.  I was interested in developing a friendship.

In that spirit, and knowing that she was depressed, bereft, and struggling, I had suggested during that evening that we make some plans to go out for an Indian meal, something I knew she’d enjoy.   We went out for this meal at Taste of India, a restaurant that I love to visit for its wonderful cuisine.  We had a nice evening.  We talked about many things over supper: her life, my life, all kinds of things.  She actually seemed more at ease with me on that one-on-one level, and after a two-hour dinner, I left feeling the bonds of a friendship.  I also found out that evening that she was in the process of putting together the details for her surgical transition that had yet to happen, and I wanted to be there as a source of support and friendship as she entered that phase of her life.  We shared a quick goodnight peck on the lips in the car when I dropped her off.

The next morning, I had both a brief email, thanking me for a wonderful evening and stating that she wanted to see me again soon, and a link to a web page depicting a medevial, romantic scene.  The verse on the card was:  

Can you imagine my surprise
When I looked into your eyes
Because after all
It was just a meeting of the lips,
Not so very much at all.
A soft caress, a fleeting touch,
Just a whisper of a kiss.
But it set my blood afire,
Singed my soul with desire.

She added the message, “What is in a first kiss? Hope and longing for what may come.”

Okay, well, I knew we were on two different paths with this thing at that point and I was mildly freaked, although I am generally such a calm, together person that I don’t display too much outward emotional demonstration when I am only “mildly freaked!”  I spent a lot of time that Sunday talking to my spouse at various times throughout the day about my recent social developments.

There were even some musings during that day with him as to what it would be like to be married to a person for many years, then to find out somewhere down the road that the partner is transgendered and wants to transition to living as the other sex, complete with the surgical reassignment.  That’s a nearly impossible situation for a straight spouse to adjust to.  I went on to say, however, that I, as a bisexual woman with a fully-developed sexual appreciation for both sexes, could probably make that adjustment, given that the relationship had many other redeeming qualities.  I could emotionally and sexually transition along with the partner, and even continue with a sexual relationship while my partner was in various stages of the transition, including living outwardly as a woman while still having the genitalia of a man.

I think at this point, my husband was mildly freaked.  He didn’t say anything during the course of the day, but that Sunday night, under the influence of a bottle of wine, he said what he did, that he was uncomfortable with my relationships with trans women.  As I mentioned in the letter I wrote to Anne, he didn’t elaborate further, and I didn’t press that night, just kind of quietly digesting that disconcerting bit of sharing and wondering what to do with it from there.

Anne’s response was, “I understand, Kinsey.  You have your primary relationship to worry about.  I hope you and Dave are able to work through any issues you have.  I have to confess that I cried a little, but I expect I will heal.  I only wish that what I am didn’t keep having to be an obstacle to people.  I want nothing but the best for you.  I will miss you.”

So, no consideration of my offer of friendship there.  I get the impression that she wanted a romantic relationship with me or nothing at all.  I’m undecided as to whether I should try to clarify the situation with her and again extend that friendship or write this one off as two people who are clearly on different pages.  (Any thoughts, Readers?) 

Dave read the letters I had sent to both Anne and Randi Sue, and he read Anne’s response.  He initiated a conversation about this on Tuesday morning this week and clarified that he did not mean his statement about his discomfort with my relationships with trans women as an across-the-board, blanket statement.  He said that he meant it with regard to the situation of me having a sexual relationship with a pre-op trans woman, that he was having trouble getting his head around that.   He didn’t mean it in a general way that he was uncomfortable with my transgendered friends or even that he would be necessarily uncomfortable with a sexual relationship between me and a trans woman who had been through the surgical reassignment.  He just couldn’t wrap his head around the situation of me being sexually involved with a person who physically was still in an incomplete state of transition.

“That wasn’t specifically what you said Sunday night!” I pointed out.

“No, that wasn’t what I said,” he countered.  “Consider the state I was in by the time I said what I said!”

Over the course of the next day or so, I thought about who my husband is a person, what has gone into shaping him into who he is.  He is a soon-to-be 58-year-old man who was born and raised in a town in northern Minnesota.  Although it is an ethnically-diverse region, those cultures are of the European variety, and he did not grow up with any contact with racial diversity.  He didn’t know his first African American person until he moved to Ohio when he was 20-years-old.  He did not have any contact with sexual orientation diversity as a child or young man.  Sex wasn’t even something that was talked about in his conservative and inhibited household.  He may have had some acquaintance with a couple of gay men during his college days on the Iron Range, particularly during his involvement with the Theatre Arts folks at the community college (yes, I’m being stereotypical here, but there is some truth in the stereotypes, I’ve observed!), but nothing on a personal basis.  I’m sure that I’m the first woman he had ever known who loves being sexually with women, and lo and behold, he found himself engaged to her!

Having a bisexual woman as his best friend, lover, and wife since his early 20s has been a culturally “enlightening” experience for the heterosexual guy from northern Minnesota!  He has been a very open and accepting individual to the range of orientation and gender diversity that I’ve introduced him to as part of my own orientation and involvement with the LGBT community.  He has embraced his expanded horizons and has been a loving partner to me and a welcoming individual to my friends and lovers over the years.

He ran up against a “sticking point” last weekend with the idea of me getting sexually involved with a pre-surgical trans woman.  He even said that it was his problem, a potential growth experience for him, and at no time did he deliver any ultimatums or demands regarding my behavior.  I chose to respect those feelings, even in their rather incomplete description initially, and shared with my trans acquaintances what was going on here.

I publically give the man a hell of a lot of credit for all that he is and all the acceptance, kindness, and openness he has given to me and to my many LGBT friends over the years.  He is a remarkable man, still growing, still learning, and I love and appreciate him for it.  He has grown in many ways that so many people wouldn’t even consider!

Anne has apparently written me off as a friend, and I’m sorry for that.  I’m also sorry for any pain my husband’s words of that Sunday night caused her.  I can appreciate her feelings in the matter.,

Randi Sue (not her real name), on the other hand, a woman I met face-to-face for the first time nine days ago, said that she’d rather have me as a friend than not at all, a response that seemed a bit more appropriate to the circumstances.

To be continued…..

Yes, my luck has been improving lately, I think.   I’ve been dating a woman recently and we met at her house last evening to go out for dinner at a restaurant not far from her house.

We had a leisurely, enjoyable meal and then went back to her house.  One thing led to another…. very nicely, I may add.  We were on the living room couch with all the lights out and I had just had a wonderful, unrestrained orgasm complete with all the attendant vocalizations when we heard noises at the front door.  It was her 17-year-old son coming home from his evening restaurant job almost 45 minutes early.  There we were, stark naked on the couch!  

Oh, and I also had pickled herring for the first time last night as an appetizer at the German restaurant we went to.  A night of “firsts:” first, a new appetizer and then a 17-year-old son walking in on me in a compromising position with his custodial parent on their couch!  I hope that the lad doesn’t suffer irrepairable psychological damage over this!

A strange turn of events this week.

A week ago, I signed up for a new dating site recommended by one of the women on my Yahoo Group, Coming Out as a Married Lesbian or Bisexual.   As I mentioned in a previous post, the Personals have ceased over this past year to be a productive means of meeting other bisexual women, and I’ve blamed that on my “over-the-hill” age of 52.  I’m sure that it puts me out of the age demographics of the folks who are cruising the sites.  50 is about the maximum age you’ll see listed as a search parameter unless the person doing the looking is 50 or older herself, and there are few of those in relation to the 18-40 year olds on these dating sites.

Anyhow, if it’s free to post a profile on a site, what’s the harm in trying?  You never know when someone interesting might come along and strike up a conversation!

Probably within 24 hours of posting my profile, I received a response from a local woman.  During the course of exchanging a few emails over the next several days, it came to light that she was at that BECAUSE conference last weekend.   Due to that commonality, I shared with her what had happened at the conference that Friday evening which resulted in my not returning for the full day of the conference on Saturday.  I gave her the link to this blog so she could read what I had written about it.

Along with having a traumatic time dealing with the conference, I also had misgivings about getting involved with activities that the Bisexual Organizing Project (BOP) here in the BiCities hosts for fear of who I would end up in the same room with.   My new acquaintance suggested that we go together to ”Chic Chat,” the girls-only night of food, beverage and conversation held at a coffee cafe close to the University of Minnesota campus on the first Saturday of the month.  With a companion for the evening, I felt comfortable giving it a whirl and agreed to go.

I had a very nice evening at the cafe.  There were 10-12 women there for Chic Chat.  The young woman sitting at the next table was also attending her first Chic Chat after being at the BECAUSE conference last weekend and we found we had our professional background in common.  Suddenly, acronyms such as BSL3, DNA, HIV, FDA, PCR and other phrases unique to our laboratory professions were flying back and forth.  I stopped at one point and laughed.  “You know, we’re talking a foreign language to the other guests here tonight!” I said. 

And I found out that BOP has a beading morning coming up on a Saturday morning a couple of weeks from now.  Yes, indeed, I’m thinking about going to that!  What could be better than a fellowship of bisexual women who like beads?  Not much, I’m thinking!  I’m on it!

My downfall of the evening, however, was not sticking to decaf coffee like I told myself I was going to before I left.  I don’t typically drink any caffeinated beverages after 9:30 in the morning on weekdays; a little later in the morning on weekends.  I’ve never been a coffee, tea or soft drink imbiber later in the day unless it’s decaffeinated.  I know what it does to me: I’ll be up all night!

I did not heed that advice and had a tall raspberry mocha latte or something like that last evening.  I got home about 10:30, completely wide awake.  At 1:30 when I went to bed, I was still completely wide awake.  Dave woke up when I came to bed and we talked.  He was awake and I was awake, and it was 2:30 at least before I managed to fall into a fitful sleep.  I slept off and on until about 9:00 this morning and then got up.  I am still tired and have a vague headache.  I can hold my liquor but I can’t hold my caffeine!

I’m pleased that the supportive circumstances came together for me to give BOP another try.  Fate has been kind to me this week!

I find it strange myself that I had such a strong reaction to seeing Millie at the conference Friday evening, considering that I cannot honestly claim to have ever been in love with her.  I hadn’t gone down that path.

One thing I WAS in love with was the whole concept of being publically open and out about my bisexuality, uncloseted, good with who I was.  Millie was very publically affectionate and it encouraged me to be the same way to a degree I never had been before.  I found that I highly enjoyed that feeling of freedom.  During that time with her, I also came out to a couple of friends at work, something I hadn’t done before.  It rather surprised me when that came out of my mouth to Jason and Ron after I started dating Millie, but that felt pretty good, too.  And then I came out to my family physician in June, wanting him to understand why a married woman was requesting STD screening.  I came away from that visit relieved and impressed with how all that was handled.

I felt like something beautiful was blossoming inside me in a way that it never had before, and I was in love with this newfound feeling of self-love and acceptance.  I was terribly frustrated and disappointed when I no longer had anyone to share that openness with.  I felt like Millie had dangled a carrot in front of my nose with her displays of affection and her tacit invitations to be a part of her family, imparting a wholeness to my life that hadn’t been there before, and then she suddenly snatched it away in a change of heart, leaving me with a hollow, empty feeling.  

I have written a prescription for myself.  That prescription is to not be so enamored with the thought of being in a romantic relationship with someone that I get involved quickly, choosing to turn my head the other way to the obvious pitfalls and incompatibilities in my haste to be a woman’s “partner.”   Some of the “breakups,” both major and minor, and the couple of one-night-stands I’ve admittedly had over the last four or five years wouldn’t have happened if I had not gotten so quickly involved in a sexual relationship with these people.   I need to learn to say, “Let’s slow it down and get to know each other well as people before we get sexually involved.”  Getting to know someone well — well enough at any rate to know whether a romantic relationship is appropriate — doesn’t happen in the span of a few dates.  It happens over weeks and months.

More than anything, I need a social network, a group of friends who will support me in my desire to be open about my orientation and lifestyle.  I need some comraderie, a broader social focus to this which has never been there for me since my days of hanging out a lesbian coffeehouse and attending a GLBT church in the 1970s.  I need to look beyond the dating scene and establish a stronger support system that will be there in a more consistent fashion for me.

And I need to remember these words.  I’ve talked about this with Dave recently and asked him to remind me of this if and when I ever call home again on a first date and say I won’t be home that night.  He’s been instructed to remind me of what I’ve said here!  I hope he doesn’t have to.  That’s a terrible spot to place a husband in, after all!          

The thing I’m trying to figure out is why running into Millie bothered me so much, so much in fact that I couldn’t stand the thought of being at the conference all day on Saturday with her close by.  Why IS that??

When I reflect on it, though, that was the exact way I felt that evening last July 7th when she told me over supper that there is something missing from her life, that it was okay hanging out with me, but…  I just wanted to get away from her!  I honestly couldn’t wait to drop her off at home that night and drive like a bat out of hell home!  There was a feeling of relief and safety accompanying my arrival home that night.

It’s my emotional vulnerability.  It’s the wanting this one thing so much right now - the love and respect of a woman - that I have a very hard time when a relationship fails.  I was the closest I had come in a long, long time to getting deeply involved with a woman last spring and summer - that possibility was so VERY close! - and then the door to that possibility slammed on my fingers.  That’s what her words felt like to me.  It wasn’t that we were having an argument or a fight over a big issue.  Quite the contrary.  Her words about things missing from her life, of wanting to be in love, of “it was nice to be with me, but…” spoke of indifference to our relationship, and that was exactly what I DIDN’T feel!  I was not indifferent about what was going on between us!   Indifference is an emotional killer!

Part of me felt like a fool, although I don’t know exactly why.   Maybe it’s because I’ve had a number of relationships with women that either didn’t get off the ground or didn’t work out after a short time that I should have known that this time would be no different.  That’s pessimistic, yes, and I don’t want to be the kind of person who never gives anything a chance for fear it’ll fail.  But it did again, and that cynical little voice piped up, “You should have known this would happen!  It always does!”

Since the time of the breakup (and there is no mistake, it was MY breakup with HER.  I took the initiative to do something that she hesitated to do), I’ve been in the midst of this “dry spell” that I’ve mentioned.  There is nothing going on here, and that has led to the worry that it’ll never happen.  I’ve never worried about it before, to be honest, but I’ve never been 52 before, either, with a string of unfulfilled relationships and expectations behind me.

So, I looked at Millie and I remembered the disappointment, the pain, the cynicism, and the loss.  Now, there’s the fear that my time for fun and romance has passed.

Dave thinks I need to figure out where my emotions are coming from, and I agree with him, so that I can moderate how I react to Millie if our social circles are going to cross in the future.  He and I both agree that I can’t withdraw and do nothing.  It’s not productive and healthy.  I need to control this situation in the best way I can rather than letting it control me.

I still have some thinking to do about all this.  I need to get this in perspective and let my reaction to Millie roll off me rather than my emotions bulldozing over me!  Once of that was enough!