Bi-Bi-Bi

Oil on Linen By Gideon Rubin

“It’s okay not to be gay,” she said and we both cracked up in laughter.

“Lesbians never go for bisexuals,” I said, feeling a tinge of resentment as I sat in the cold metal chair, gazing at the smile of my beautiful neighbor. The air was fresh and crisp and her backyard was overrun with luscious greenery.

“It’s because we think they are curious not committed,” my neighbor concluded.

I’ve never been one for labels, unless of course we are talking about beautifully crafted luxury goods that last the test of time. That said… I’ve always been attracted to men and to women. Growing up I didn’t see bisexual representation on screen or around me. I was raised to respect all people regardless of their sexual orientations, but was not exposed to people who were anything but heteronormative in their approach to life.

As a young person, I pursued relationships with men, as that was constantly being projected onto me. No one asked, “who do you like?” They asked, “which boys do you think are cute?” Because of this projection, it just seemed easier to explore relationships with boys, even though my first kiss was with a girl.

Oil on Linen By Gideon Rubin

Even in 2020, bisexual people tend to be underrepresented on screen and in life. We are often seen as gay, when with a same-sex partner and hetero when with a partner of the opposite sex.

I sleep with men and women. I date men and women. I want to be in a relationship and I don’t see why I have to choose between a man and a woman.

As much as I’m in it for the human being, part of me feels like when I’m with a man, I’m missing out on being with a woman and the reverse is also true. The solution?

Well, long term I have not a fucking clue, but my ex boyfriend and I had a very fun solution for the short term.

But before I had an ex boyfriend, there was The Colombian and she was my first real connection with a woman that was more than just sex; she said she wanted me to be her woman and I was exactly that.

She stood tall at 5’ 8” with hair so dark it was almost black and it fell just below her slender shoulders. She was dynamic, fiery and wild. We spent many nights causing trouble in Manhattan; dancing, drinking champagne, and mercilessly teasing the men who watched us kiss. Her lips, soft and light, her kiss deep and passionate. Even when countless men tried get in on the action, we always left together.

Until one night, a few days after my July 4th pool party years earlier; that is when everything changed.

Oil on Linen By Gideon Rubin

It All Adds Up

Sivan Karim Shop

It was July 2011 and simmering hot on the city streets. My dove gray Reformation slip dress floated behind me as the air-conditioning cut through the thick air as I entered the only place to be on at night as hot as this. The attendant at Soho house was polished to perfection. Having spent all day in the cool lobby her hair was perfectly pressed, her make up immaculate.

My skin was sticky with sweat from the city streets and my dress clung to my breasts; I rode the elevator to the roof to meet my friend for ice cold wine, people watching and plotting world domination. As I stepped up to the bar to greet her she already had a crisp glass of Chablis in hand for me.

The men she was chatting up looked me up and down and I was keen to move on without them, but she was pushing hard to gain the attention of the taller, slimmer one. Much to my irritation the four of us ended up at a table near the swimming pool and while the men tried to entertain and impress me, I was cold, short and aloof, not having any of it. When the conversation turned to star signs I’d almost had enough until the more handsome of the two said he was a Scorpio.

“Scorpio,” I said lowering my voice, “I only sleep with scorpios, married scorpios.”

He shot me a knowing look from across the table, taken aback by my forwardness and even more intrigued by my seeming lack of interest in him and his career.

As the night wound down and we made our way to the streets of the meatpacking district. I kissed my friend goodbye and I was about to jump into a cab myself when the tall handsome Englishman asked if his driver could drop me at home. Who am I to turn down a lift? Let’s call him The Ad Man.

His driver pulled to a stop at my front door and got out to leave the two of us alone. We had been staring at each other, hungry to get a taste of what the other had on tap. He pulled me close and kissed me hard, the electricity was contagious. I felt a fire inside me and I wanted him to push his hands between my legs and feel how wet I was. But instead I told him goodnight and I made a swift exit.

Moments after I walked through the doorway of my East village apartment my phone buzzed.

“I can’t stop thinking about that kiss. When can I see you again?” It was The Ad Man. His car had barely pulled off the block and he already wanted more. His lips were firm but soft, just like his touch.

We were in the backseat of his town car parked in front of my apartment; his driver has stepped out of the car to give us some privacy. He slid one hand up my warm thigh as he pulled me closer with the other leaning in to kiss me. A shiver went down my spine and I was instantly wet. He was as hungry for my lips, as I was to feel his tongue deep inside me. I pulled away thanking him for the lift home and stepped out of the car.

I was still in the haze that comes from the sweltering heat off the concrete on a New York summer night, combine with several glasses of wine and a steamy make out session with a handsome stranger. At the time I didn’t know who I was dealing with, that would soon change.

I lit up a freshly rolled joint and inhaled the clouds of smoke as his messages kept rolling in. I lay back on my bed and slid my fingers inside myself imagining they were his tongue; as I push myself closer to the edge of orgasm I knew it was going to be a very fun summer. And a fun summer it was indeed.

The Deep End

David Hockney

As the resident queen of Manhattan’s rooftop pool hopping-scene, it was business as usual on a Saturday in the summer. I lay mostly naked, at what was then called the Thompson Lower East Side Hotel, on the pool deck of the fourth floor. The sweltering sun reflected in the glass of the hotel‘s windows amplifying it’s rays; creating a Mecca of sorts for us sun worshippers with enough connections to escape the radiating heat off the concrete streets down below.

I continued my summer ritual of dipping in the cold pool and laying out in the humid heat, my body bronzing further with each passing moment. 100°F and climbing it was just another day for the beautiful people sipping deliciously expensive cocktails, served by tall stylish model-types and eyeing the other gorgeous bodies laying about.

Back then the pools were a well-kept secret and unfortunately I may have been responsible for bringing down the house... but that is not this story.

I lay on the lounger as beads of water still floated across my skin from my most recent dip in the pool running down my breasts and onto my flat tanned stomach. I glanced over at the bar to get the attention of my server.. my champagne was almost empty.

The dark tinted glass door to the pool deck swung open. There he was. His T-shirt clung to his muscular body in all the right ways, I couldn’t take my eyes off him. Tell me he’s the one I’m supposed to be showing around this weekend... my heart beat faster in anticipation. I had promised my friend I would look after his visitor while he was away and had not a clue what he looked like, just his name and that he was in town from London.

The young man looked about surveying the scene and then I heard it... my name pass through his beautiful full lips.

I couldn’t believe my luck. The way my name rolled off his tongue with his posh English accent sent a thrill down my spine. We locked eyes and as he walked towards me I stood. When he drew close enough I jumped into his arms pressing my wet swimsuit into his dry clothes whispering in his ear “Welcome to New York,” and that was when everything changed.

I didn’t know it then but this encounter would be the beginning of a whole new world.

Though it was nine years ago, that weekend we spent together has stayed close to my heart. He’s the only man I felt such a connection with who I didn’t devour in an instant.

At the time I’d told him it was because I had a boyfriend... but let’s be honest my boyfriend was married to another woman, had three kids with a fourth on the way and that is not why I wouldn’t sleep with him.

This was new for me, a connection between us unlike anything I’d known. We spent the weekend getting lost in each other. His kiss, his arms holding me closely. His hot breath as his tongue passed over my panties getting me so wet and beyond turned on.

There was a feeling of intimacy and carnal need to be together, yet I was resisting the temptation to make him just another conquest.. he was to be more than that. Even though it was almost impossible to resist as I felt the size of his hard cock push up against me, something told me to wait.

Back then I was too caught up in running to understand it. But now almost a decade later it clicked; he has always been the one.

Now, countless miles apart he is in London and I am in Montreal. The world has been put on pause and I know without a shadow of a doubt he is the only one I want and perhaps he always has been.