THE SOLITARY PANDA

I’m a (Closet) Freak

So, the fact that I admit to the entire internet (HI!) that I’m a closet freak is pretty much an oxymoron.

It’s like these two superheroes dueling it out, IN ME. I am the superhero. I wear a cape and call myself SuperJanet! This is what I’d tell myself when I was in highschool stressing out about stupid highschool shit. And then I’d make stuff happen and get things done.

SuperJanet.

Anyway. I’m a closet freak. Not to be confused by SUPER freak (*sing* Superfreak!)! I don’t think I’m there yet. I appear sweet and innocent on the exterior. And I am, I guess. I’m pretty prude and puritanical. There’s that side of me. More conservative than most. And I know her quite well. She doesn’t want to have sex unless she’s in a relationship. She thinks anything less is meaningless and unfulfilling. She thinks sex can become needy, unhealthy, suffering. And I get that. I do. This is the side of me that rules… But, there’s this other side of me too. And I don’t know why my writing is becoming so schizo lately. Between Buddha Nature and perfectly at peace with myself there’s this other side…

There’s layers to me. Maybe I’m not willing to give up my walls because I like my layers. I’m complex. You can’t figure me out. I like it that way. I don’t want to be with some dumb little shit. You gotta have at least some intelligence to figure me out.

Beneath my sweet exterior is a bit of a masochist. A girl who likes it rough and tumble. A girl who can take some pain. Who likes girth (and her vibrator collection). Forwards and backwards. Thinks tantric sex is the best spiritual practice ever. Abhors abstinence education. Looks both ways. Loves to give (and swallow). Writes raw, sexual thoughts in her journals that could be starts to erotica stories… Is willing to explore… And is more open to open relationships than she used to think possible.

The conservative in her thinks deep down she’s a monogamous girl… But the masochist in her thinks threesomes could be great as the “third”.

I’m not sure what’s going on. I’m not sure why I’m so confused. With powerful sexual prowess just waiting to explode and shy, timid, submissive Asian ready to live as a spinster. Maybe it has something to do with my unexplored bisexuality. Keeping this side of me so dormant, hidden, for years is strangling my sense of self. Maybe I just need to let loose. Open the floodgates. But, I’m scared. I admit I’m scared.

I’m scared of a lot of things. I’m scared of committing. I’m scared of taking leaps of faith. I’m scared that no matter how “open” I say I am with my sexuality, the actuality is that I’m not. Because I’m all talk and no action. I’ve never had a threesome. I’ve never had casual sex. I’ve never been with a woman. And the thought of that seems wrong. Like it’s OK, even beautiful, for others to be gay, but it’s not OK for me? I don’t know. I talk about it so openly sometimes… But when it comes down to it, I’m scared to be with a woman.

I had a crush on a girl once who rejected me. She said she doesn’t like bisexuals. I got over her and wrote her off as an elitist lesbian, but she had a point. I probably wouldn’t want to go out with anyone who admits they want to “experiment” either, least of all not anyone who admits they’re confused… But it’s not just that. I’m not a casual girl… It scares me to think that I could fall in love with a woman. I’m not sure if I could, but maybe. Is it wrong for me because I’m not actually gay? I feel more straight than gay but with this undiscovered piece of the puzzle, how can I really be so sure? I check out women more than I do men, but I emotionally attach to men more than I do with women… The way that I crush on men is completely different than the way I crush on women, and the way my attraction sticks with men makes me feel I am definitely more hetero inclined.

Sexuality is fluid to me but I am not fluid when it comes to sexuality. Why else would I feel so confused? It’s not just gender. It’s the way I express things. It’s open vs. monogamous. It’s casual vs. serious. It’s friends with benefits vs. coupled. It’s kinky vs. …not kinky. It’s trying to decide where I fit in all of this. It’s being so damn wary to figure any of it out. Thinking maybe the spinster life isn’t so bad after all. It’s easy. Safe. But ultimately less rewarding.

I need to take leaps of faith. I need to go crazy. And I need to come out of the closet.

It’s the only way I can figure myself out.

Sake Heart-to-Heart

I’ve got a penchant for you and a penchant for sake. So sake to me. I mean, lets be honest here. When I’m feeling kinda tipsy, I like to talk about sex, do you concur? When do I NOT like talking about sex, though, really? Other than spirituality, the two are my favorite topics. Scrumptious. Like you. Like me. How’s that apple tasting? Juicy, I hope.

Oh, about that sex thing. I would, with you. Lets be honest. I’m attracted to you. You’re the hottest thing since sliced bread. I want to butter you up and then taste you. Is that chheesy? is that bad? Sorry for the drunken heart-t0heart. I don’twant to cheapen our conversation. But it’s truth. The things I would do to you. We’ll wrestle on the white beach sand and get dirty. so dirty. Dirty enough to take off all our clothes and go skinny dipping. /oops, did I say that out loud? Well, I’ve got to cross that off my bucket list someday, somehow. I’m still a virgin, in that regard. Will you help devirginize me? Sorry. I’m not so eloquent with my sake. Uno mas!

I’d bite in to your flesh. Gently. Lick chocolate fondue all the way down to your naughty bits. Hot and tasty. Make your raspberry swirl. Yes, I stole that from Tori. Have you ever seen her play piano with her hands? Two-timing synths in a manage-a-tois with her in the middle? Looking all orgasmic? The things she can do with her hands… And tongue. The way she cocks her head against the microphone. Breathing into it. So close she could touch it. Open her mouth and tease. Liptstick red and ready for that palpable touch. Hot damn. Tori. Us bisexuals. We know how to party. I’d like to be HER man. Oh, where was I? Oh yes. You. And me. The whole thing seems terribly romantic. And just my style. No commitments. No promises. No expectations. I’ll trt not to mess it up with you. But I’m a hopeless romantic. You’re just hopeless. That’s Bouncing Souls. Don’t think my 90s pop culture references are just smashing redheads now. Those punk-rock boys make me wet too. Nipple piercings, shaved heads and tattoos. Take me, now. Hit me. And I mean kiss me. Show me I’m alive and breathing. Pull a punch and then pull my knickers down and ravage me. I’ll put up a good fight. Today’s a good day to die, but it’s also a good day to live. Let’s go.