You’re either one, or the other! (really?...I mean…really??)

Picture the scene if you will. Very ordinary, very middle class suburban. A get together of work colleagues. A girl’s night in. A few nibbles, a few drinks, a few laughs. A debrief over the latest events at work, solve the world’s problems and bandy about unsolicited advice to each other on whatever latest personal crisis is offered up to the sisterhood. (I might add, at this point, I rarely offer up anything more than the vaguest dilemma…tend to keep the big things to myself.) Ages of participants? Well ranging from 40 to 55 with most somewhere in the middle. Me? Happy to say I'm at the lower end, at least in mindset.

Yep, this was my Monday night. Granted, I was a bit weary – a busy weekend, still a bit emotionally hung-over from my previous out pouring of self via pen and paper but even so, I felt positively cornered and panicked when somehow, the question of sexuality reared its head in this haven of middle aged straightness….yikes! Had they inadvertently logged on to my computer? Had someone actually stumbled across and read my hitherto anonymous blogs and sussed it was me?

I'm not even sure how the subject came up, because trust me…in middle Australia it rarely does…but someone mumbled something about wishing both her kids were gay because she didn't want to be a grandmother – ever – now there’s a blog in itself - and then bingo…the lid was off the proverbial can of worms.

Some of it was hilarious. I mean… You've got straight women pondering the mechanics of gay sex, both male and female… you've got them mulling over their possible reactions if any of their offspring happened to be gay (which I'm happy to report was mostly positive, if only in theory). Then it happened…someone… I swear it wasn't me – I was too busy ducking and weaving and trying not to dob myself in by knowing too much about anything…where was I?...yes well someone threw the live grenade of bisexuality into the mix and stepped back to watch the effect….

That’s about when I decided to head for cover. Yep, down to the bomb shelter and stay there!  I mean, in terms of my decision to only come out to those who need to know…this was definitely not the time or the place or the people. Ok. Call me a coward, but there you go.

That was when Maggie, perhaps the oldest in the group, but a gentle, caring and usually quietly spoken woman with one daughter abruptly set down her glass of cheap pink fizz, slopping its contents into the rice crackers, and shook her head vigorously.

“No. I won’t have it!” She even slammed (in a very polite and ladylike way) her fist on the table.

A bit more head shaking and muttering under her breath and then she pronounced.

“You’re either ONE…or you’re THE OTHER! That’s it. I can handle GAY or STRAIGHT…but that’s it. None of this…this…” She was screwing up her nose as if the dog had farted. Couldn't even say the word.

Hmm. That set the cat amongst the pigeons, and this pigeon chose to retreat. I said nothing. I couldn't  I was speechless. I mean...really? Really? One or the other? What did that make me?

I know there’s that whole school of thought amongst both the straight and gay communities that we bisexuals (much as I hate giving myself a label of any sort) are, at best, merely in transit to being our true selves, or that we are just desperate little souls who pretty much will take whatever is on offer, or we want a bet each way (you know, just in case), or that we’re just sex mad and don’t like to restrict ourselves (really, just another version of taking whatever is on offer)…. and maybe that can and does apply to some folk.

What that doesn't explain is why I can be caught drooling equally over a poster of Ewan McGregor or Katherine Moennig and why I'm just physically attracted to and turned on by some people, regardless of gender/packaging. This isn't a state of confusion for me (although it once was) – it just is what it is. It’s who I always have been. Yeah, ok, in my case, it’s generally more male oriented than female, but I refuse to dismiss the part of me that does find me looking twice (possibly three times) at some women. It’s who I am.

While we’re at it, has anybody ever pondered the possibility that all of our relationships, or at least a lot of them, have a physical, if not sexual element to them? Maybe it’s basic chemistry that allows us to connect in the first place, before intellectual and emotional pathways are forged. Obviously there are exceptions, like for the vision impaired or friendships formed through sites such as this. Even so, do we all fall a little bit in love in order to develop a friendship?

Back to the gob smacking statement of Maggie, so adamant and fierce in her refusal to acknowledge the possibility that it crossed my mind ‘The lady doth protest too much, methinks...’ Poor love.

A couple of the girls in the group unwittingly jumped to my defence, howling her down and a lively and vigorous and thoroughly unresolved debate followed, so I didn't have to take a stand. Phew!

Yep, I know I should have. Should have stood up as a fully paid up card carrying member of Bisexual Oz (no there isn't such an organisation but maybe there should be!) and told her how wrong she was, but I've already told you I'm also a card carrying member of Cowards Inc. plus…you know, some people are just never going to be convinced.

It’s right up there with politics and religion.

And really, so long as I know who I am…does it really matter?