What Did One Bisexual Say To The Other?

I realize I've sucked a big butt at keeping my posts regular.  However, in my defense I'm moving in less than two weeks and I have SO much to do.

BUT!  That is neither here nor there.

News, friends.  I went on a date... with a man.  I've known him for two years and we've been able to work together in some really awesome capacities.  Well he finally asked me out formally and we had and ARE HAVING such a fun time!!

He is so many many things and there is so much I could say about what kind of person he is (in a word: beautiful!) but what I really want to tell you is something pretty special.

He is bisexual.  Like me.  He views love like I do.  We love who we love.

At first i was scared.  I'd never had feelings for someone who was fully bisexual like I am.  And I was able to talk to him about it.  My fear, how he feels, perceptions on love, romance, relationships, etc.

And now... It's fucking beautiful.  

Sexcapades and What Impossible Feels Like

Yay, it's Wednesday!  That means I can tell you more about Veronica. If you need a refresher, please go to How I Fell.  

And so.

My life got complicated.  Veronica became the best part of every day.  In the sweltering summer humidity and heat, we escaped to the pool daily.  I brought my two baby girls and a couple bags of Little Ceasars breadsticks and she brought her two sweet kids and her rocking body in that tiny bikini.  She would sip on a blue Monster and I would 86 a couple RedBulls.  

I can't remember what we talked about, but there was never hesitation.  Comfort was our mode of operation and  I loved hanging out with her.  I felt like I could finally be myself even though I was still trapped in the LDS community, trying to squeeze my rectangular self into the tiny round hole that is religious Mormonism. 

For weeks I watched her rub oil all over her body, her beautiful tattoos, her breasts, ass...  She loved a good tan line and God, was she tan!  The white of her natural skin peeking out from her ever tinier bikinis was so bright, shiny with tanning oil and art-like, it made me want to reach out and touch it to find out if it she was crafted from oil paint or acrylics.   

As you may have surmised, Veronica is married. Two kids, nice home, husband has a good job, girl scouts, hockey, and all the rest.  My mouth was sealed shut, never to leak what I felt in my stomach, chest, the wetness that would come.  The thoughts in my head were repressed, pushed away.  I couldn't tell anyone.  And it was painful.  

When my husband and I decided to split and I drove to Salt Lake City, I called her.  I didn't want to tell anyone in the church, I didn't want to talk to anyone, I didn't want anyone to tell me that God wanted me to stay.  I just wanted to see Veronica and tell her goodbye.  When I called I had the kids in the car, and all of my things were ready, I was specifically waiting for her.  But she was out visiting family in a neighboring town and wouldn't be home for a few hours.  The sadness I felt driving away without getting to see her and hug her and hear her sweet voice with the adorable accent was deep.  More deep by far than the sadness for my failed marriage, which at this point we both knew was long over.  

A year passed, and as we stayed in touch, I wanted her to visit and the trip was planned!!  Finally, a year too late, I would get to see my best friend again!  

I remember when the first hints at mutual sexual attraction began. 

Somehow talk led to thoughts on sexual experimentation and um, lesbian desires.  She sent me a photo in a text and asked "how does this make you feel?"  I remember the photo perfectly and when I was writing this, I emailed her and asked her if she remembered the first photo she ever sent me.  She did.  It was a kitchen scene, two lovely, tattooed ladies from the waist down, naked save panties, legs entwined. 

The image excited all of me in all of the ways that I had been wanting for so many, many years.  She arrived.  Her visit wasn't long, just barely three days.  I took her to the Pie Hole, RedRock, up to see the mountains, we rode the tram up to the top of Hidden Peak at Snowbird and there where we could see the whole world, I remember the feel of holding her hand for the first time.  

I also remember the night that I drank enough liquid courage that I walked up to her standing in my living room, put my hand around her perfect waist and pulled her towards me.  I kissed her for a long time and it was like spring had sprung or like a thousand doves cooing, or a million butterflies taking off all at the same moment.  It was like nothing I had ever experienced and everything that I could have imagined.  

The next part is pretty rad and I know what you're probably wondering.  Yes, I fucked her.  But it's more than that.  Years have passed and my love for her grows.  When I need to imagine a happy place, she is there with me, warm breeze, her laugh, her smile, her touch.  Together.  She is everything I could ever want.  In a partner, in a friend, in a lover, in a confidant.  

So why might I have stated in the title, what impossible feels like?  Simply because for Veronica and I, our time is not yet.  I cannot be with her.  It's tragedy and pain and agony.  Yet it makes my love for her and our bond stronger.  We grow closer over the thousands of miles between us. 

I ask each of you one question: think of the person who completes you or the person you are searching for and tell me in one word, who are they?  

For me, it's Veronica and she is Zen. Peace, calm, rest, stillness, tranquility, my center.  I love her so and one day, one glorious, delicious, deserving day, we will be together. 

Second First Kiss

Jo told you about our road trip to the redwoods. What she didn't tell you is that the night before we left on our road trip I told her via text message (because I'm a wimp) that I liked her. She said that she thought I was the greatest thing ever and I fell asleep smiling. 

By the time we got to the Redwoods I was completely, madly in love with her. 

There were two problems. 

1. BYU

2. Even though Jo said I was the greatest thing ever (which should have been enough, but wasn't) she never said she liked me back. 

Once we got to Stout Grove I was so conflicted and frustrated by everything. Here I had the most beautiful girl in one of the most beautiful places on earth and I felt like I couldn't be happy. I felt like all my commitments to BYU and the honor code were keeping me from loving the one person I could laugh with. The one person I could just talk to about anything. The one person I could sit with in silence without any awkwardness. I felt like I couldn't love the one person I loved the most. As we walked through Stout Grove I was very quiet and distant because I wanted to stick it out and finish my last semester at BYU and follow all the rules and keep all my promises. But I wanted so much just to take her hand and never let go. 

At some point during our meanderings in the grove, Jo walked ahead along the path and I stayed behind. After a while I made my way slowly up the trail until I met Jo on a bridge as she was coming back. We stood there a few moments. I may have asked her where she went. She probably told me she just walked far enough down the trail until she could see the river. We stood there a little longer. Me being quiet and awkward. Her, being beautiful and basically irresistible. That moment all I wanted to do was kiss her. 

There we were in the middle of this gorgeous grove of giant trees on a bridge over stream. It would have been such an epic kiss. So romantic. So perfect. So absolutely memorable. 

I didn't kiss her then. 

I kept all my little desires pent up until a day or two later when we were somewhere in the middle of Nevada on our way home and I slid my hand up to hers and held it till our palms were sticky and sweaty. 

A couple months after that (it was in October) I finally decided that waiting wasn't worth it anymore. BYU wasn't worth it enough to not kiss the girl of my dreams. It wasn't on a bridge in the redwoods. It was in her apartment in the dark and it was a fail. I kissed her. She didn't kiss me back. 

I know she didn't kiss me because we had both agreed that we wouldn't kiss until I was done with BYU. She was willing to wait. 

I never forgot about that time on the bridge when I could have kissed her and it would have been perfect. 

Last weekend Jo and I had our second first kiss on a bridge over a stream in the Redwoods. And we exchanged rings inscribed with "being here is so much" because it really is. Being here is so much and everything seems to need us in this fleeting world. Us, the most fleeting. The first time we went to the Redwoods, I made Jo read that poem as we sat on the biggest log I've ever sat on. Those trees are sacred. They know what it means to love. And now, thanks to them, so do I. 

~live your own truth~