Posted in Blog, Pride Month 2021, Writing

Why It’s Time For Couples To Get Off Tinder and Leave Bisexual Women Alone

I once wrote a song called Swipe Forever, about what it’s like to date as a bisexual, and it’s been stuck in my head for weeks now, because a) I’m a narcissist who loves their own music b) I’m attempting to date again and once again, I am having the WORST time.

I currently have my tinder set to show women only, because frankly, I’m tired of men, and as a girl with options, I’m taking those options. The trouble is, a huge amount of profiles that show up for people searching for a woman are couples. I know you can’t see me as you’re reading this, but I want you to know that I am currently rolling my eyes.

I’m sure those couples think it’s harmless, and that they aren’t hurting anyone, but considering how many of these couples refer to bisexual women with dehumanising terms like “third” or “unicorn”, I can’t really be shocked that they don’t have the self awareness to realise why their behaviour is often biphobic as hell.

I’d like to start by reminding these couples that there are a number of specific platforms for couples to connect with people who are willing to entertain their nonsense, such as Feeld, Polyfinda, FNTSY and 3fun, so they don’t actually have to take up space on platforms where single women are looking for single women. It’s hard enough to find a girlfriend (especially for bisexual women, who are unfairly stereotyped as promiscuous and unfaithful, largely in part to the idea that we are all constantly having threesomes) but it’s even harder when you are having to wade through profiles full of “We’re an open minded couple looking to explore :)”.

The attitudes that many of these couples have about bisexual woman are disgusting. We are referred to as “unicorns”, “a bit of fun”, “thirds”. The expectation is that we are ready and willing to step into the bedrooms of bored couples to fix the fact that they no longer satisfy each other. The idea that we are people in our own right, who have romantic desires and that we could want real, meaningful connections and relationships is completely alien to them, because they see us as sex toys and marital aids.

Even if you specifically state that you aren’t interested in couples, you WILL get messages from couples. I can always recognise a bisexual woman on a dating app before I even scroll to check her orientation, because just like me, she has the tell tale “NO COUPLES!!!!” in her profile, and just like me, I know that her wishes will be ignored and she will be bombarded by couples who don’t respect her enough to accept that she is not available to them.

The entitlement is perhaps the worst part. I have encountered many couples who simply will not accept “No” as a complete sentence. They will pressure you, plead, beg, until it gets pathetic, uncomfortable and frankly, grosser than some of the weird shit I get sent from straight men. They don’t seem to understand that bisexual woman actually get to choose who they have sex with. Speaking to a bisexual woman is not like going shopping for a vibrator, because we actually talk back, and as the ill fated conversation goes on, you can tell they don’t like it.

They feel like we are being audacious for not being interested. That’s the issue. If a single person treated a woman that way, people would recognise that it was wrong, but couples treat bisexual women like this all the time and nothing is ever said about it.

If people want to have sex with other people while in relationships, that’s fine. I don’t understand it, and I have no intention of doing it myself, but as long as everyone involved wants to be there, it’s fine. All I am asking for is that they don’t involve me in it.

Stop encroaching on the space of people who have been clear that they aren’t interested. Stop talking about us as if we aren’t real people. Stop treating us like we are just a set of genitals for you and your bored partner to play with. If you really have to look for another partner, treat the people you approach with respect. It really isn’t hard.

Posted in Blog, Creative Writing, Pride Month 2021, Writing

Survivor’s Guilt

The party is over.

I pass you a glass of cold water,

but you don’t even feel it as it finds it’s way down your throat.

I hold onto it as you drink,

because your hands are shaking.

I know what that faraway stare means.

I know you go somewhere else,

to hide from the times you find yourself in,

so, I just hold you to my chest,

until you find your way back to your body.

We used to be so pretty,

me and my beautiful boys.

Pint after pint at that glorious shithole in Soho,

Judy on the jukebox,

shots of whisky and vodka that smelled like drain cleaner,

before we were home,

a glass of water each,

with our shaking hands and shaking hips.

You’d all kiss me on the cheek,

like I was your mother,

and fall asleep around my feet,

before I jumped and stretched across your snoring corpses, like a ballerina, to get to my bed.

You take a long time to return, this time,

the sleeves of my cardigan are covered in your sorrow, as your tears finally come.

My words don’t come,

and the ceiling is on the floor,

because the ghosts of all the boys I lost have found their way to the door of the nurse’s office,

and you look tempted,

because it’s been so long,

and it’s been so painful,

and I can’t ask you for one more day,

when I already know that you can’t say yes.

They are beckoning, as I hold you back,

selfish but in a selfless kind of sense,

because I know I can’t live without you,

and I know that you want to live,

so what’s the harm, if I hold you back from a journey that I can’t take with you?

I’m on the floor, begging for you,

begging with you,

both of us,

bargaining with God, with flippant men in white coats, with silent pots of medication that just stare, and stare and stare.

Don’t walk through doors that lock as soon as you leave.

Don’t leave me on the other side.

Don’t ask me to survive, when there will be nobody to survive for.

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