People have such a need to cram others into little boxes. Somebody recently asked me how bisexual I am (I can only presume they meant my Kinsey number). Now, I’ve written before about the absurd inadequacy of any attempt to reduce human sexuality to a single one-dimensional axis, or even a two-dimensional chart that:
A) crosses Kinsey numbers with what the designers referred to as “attraction types” based on “lustful feelings” (that roughly a third of women don’t have);
B) ignores kink entirely; and
C) “gives a place of precedence to ongoing sexual ‘relationships’ despite the fact that many individuals aren’t interested in them.”
As I wrote in “East is East and West is West“,
Human sexuality is not like a standard light switch, which has two and only two positions; it’s not even like a dimmer switch, with an infinite number of subtle gradations along one linear path. It’s much more like a faucet, in which two kinds of water can be mixed to produce many temperature gradations while the intensity of the flow can also have many levels. In fact, if you can imagine a shower where the water can be directed to come out of either the lower faucet or the shower head or a movable nozzle or jacuzzi jets, that might be a model a bit closer to the truth…
But even ignoring all that, the very question of “How bi are you?” ignores the reality of female sexual fluidity. As I explained in “AC/DC“, “women tend to move around the sexual spectrum depending upon their environment, circumstances and experiences,” and I probably wander more than most women. So for me, the question is simply not answerable in any fixed, predictable sense. I mean, are we talking now or at some specific past or future time? What time of the month is it? Hell, what time of day is it? What did I have to eat last? How many clients have I had recently, and when was the last time a busty redhead made eyes at me? What was the gender of the last idiot who pissed me off? Am I high, and if so on what drug? Is it October? Is it Tuesday? Is it raining? What music are we listening to? Is there a dog or cat in the room? Is there money involved? Is there bondage involved? How attractive does the person in question find me, and what are they doing to prove it? And after all that I still probably couldn’t tell you how bi I am.
(Have a question of your own? Please consult this page to see if I’ve answered it in a previous column, and if not just click here to ask me via email.)
This is a subset of a larger question for me. I ask as a naturally curious person why people are so obsessed with the sexuality of others at all? It’s the least controlled and frankly least interesting part of what defines us. Elton John said in an interview that he is defined by his music. Isn’t that a lot more interesting than his sexuality? Unless you’re in a serious relationship with someone and need to know, who cares?
I understand only the fringes of my own sexuality. How absurd to develop a fascination with the sexuality of strangers. There are so many more interesting, better understood qualities in what and who they are.
How Bi I am
How Bi I am
Nobody knows how Bi I am
First thing that popped into my mind when I saw the title. And it also happens to be a fairly accurate summary.
I’m glad you caught the reference!
For some trivia that reflects the complexity of the statement, the same four note motif was used long before Irving Berlin’s song.
You can hear it in the bass line of the second movement of Beethoven’s Piano Sonata Opus 10 No. 3, at about 2 minutes 10 seconds, and about 6 minutes 20 seconds in.
No kidding.
I chalk this up to 3 things:
1) Lots of people feel the need to quantify everything. Which is why I loved the scene in “Dead Poets Society” where Robin Williams responds to the chapter about rating poetry with one word: “Excrement!”
2) There are two kinds of people in the world: Those who divide people into two groups, and those who don’t.
3) The stigma & taboo we attach to sex leads to obsessive curiosity about it. In fact, the more negative a person’s view of sex, the more obsessed they are with it.
Result: You say you’re bi, or a switch, or poly, or that you make you living off of sex, and – bazinga! – somebody’s bound to bombard you with stupid questions trying to delve into the personal details of your thoughts, feelings & fuckery.