first houseparty
I got really drunk on Saturday and lost all sense of time, space, impulse control. Found myself giving an inspiring speech to two of my fellow art students, I remember them looking on, incredulous, in the kitchen. I think it was the kitchen. We played drinking games and before I knew it, I was absolutely smashed. Concluded the night having thrown up on the carpet and passed out on the sofa. I was dancing with a beautiful girl; I made my first foray into expressing my sexuality as we danced together, holding hands. I told her she was beautiful- which she was; a lovely, blonde little gone girl. Her name was Candy. Over the thrum of the music in the background, she asked if I was gay.
"I'm bisexual," I told her. The room was a warmly coloured whirl.
"How do you know?" she replied, with curiosity.
I tried to express the fact that whenever I see beautiful girls walk past, on the street or on a station platform or even at the gym, I feel a strange buzzing feeling, a warm sensation and an exhilarating urge to turn to look at them and not stop, in the absurd hope that I could somehow absorb the essence of their beauty just by looking. In drunken reverie, I tried to tell her that I somehow knew my gaze was like that of a teenage boy, or a man- that I felt like a man inside, looking at all the gorgeous girls with their honey-soft skin, something warm and sumptuous that can't be found in guys.
But she liked a quiet, geeky looking kid with glasses who was sitting in the corner with his drink. She wanted to know if she should go talk to him, and I told her she should. Thought, "Lucky guy." I only wanted her to be happy; isn't it strange to find yourself concerned about the true happiness of strangers?
I can't stop thinking about her. She was absolutely perfect. Just the memory of her sweet face, illuminated by the glowing fairy lights, gorgeous blonde hair just touching her exposed shoulders... baby-soft skin.. I wanted her so badly. I want to meet someone like her, who is also bi or gay and likes me too...
I have to come out to my parents at some point, and the thought terrifies me... I don't know what to do.
"I'm bisexual," I told her. The room was a warmly coloured whirl.
"How do you know?" she replied, with curiosity.
I tried to express the fact that whenever I see beautiful girls walk past, on the street or on a station platform or even at the gym, I feel a strange buzzing feeling, a warm sensation and an exhilarating urge to turn to look at them and not stop, in the absurd hope that I could somehow absorb the essence of their beauty just by looking. In drunken reverie, I tried to tell her that I somehow knew my gaze was like that of a teenage boy, or a man- that I felt like a man inside, looking at all the gorgeous girls with their honey-soft skin, something warm and sumptuous that can't be found in guys.
But she liked a quiet, geeky looking kid with glasses who was sitting in the corner with his drink. She wanted to know if she should go talk to him, and I told her she should. Thought, "Lucky guy." I only wanted her to be happy; isn't it strange to find yourself concerned about the true happiness of strangers?
I can't stop thinking about her. She was absolutely perfect. Just the memory of her sweet face, illuminated by the glowing fairy lights, gorgeous blonde hair just touching her exposed shoulders... baby-soft skin.. I wanted her so badly. I want to meet someone like her, who is also bi or gay and likes me too...
I have to come out to my parents at some point, and the thought terrifies me... I don't know what to do.