A couple of nights ago--Friday, I think it was--I was happily slumbering in my bed in Delhi when my phone rang rather loudly. It was 1.43 in the morning, and I was exhausted, not to mention fast asleep, and since I had lost my phone recently I didn't know the number that was flashing on the screen. It turned out to be a friend of mine in Bombay.
"eM, duuuuuude, where you at?" he asked.
"I'm in Delhi," I told him, "Asleep."
"Ohh, okay, but hey listen, this friend of mine saw you at the Alan Parsons concert and she's been bugging me to get in touch with you."
I opened one eye blearily, about to tell him that I could not possibly talk about work at this time in the night and I would just call him back when I returned to Bombay. But he preempted me.
"Um.. are you, by any chance, bisexual?"
"I'm dreaming this conversation aren't I?"
"No, no, you're awake."
"In that case, sorry, no. I'm quite straight."
That said, I turned over and passed out again.
The next morning I checked my cellphone, and sure enough, this conversation had happened.
Right. Anyway. Last night at Toto's, I was sitting with a friend by the bar, twirling around on my stool, and this girl comes up to me and taps me on the shoulder.
"Excuse me, I'm lesbian, are you?"
I shake my head and return to my conversation.
"There, there," says my friend comfortingly, "They were playing some sort of drinking Truth or Dare, see. she's gone back to her friends now."
I know some homosexuals. Mostly men, but there are the few women thrown in. And the long standing belief is that you can normally tell when someone else is One Of You, making it that much harder for you to be rejected.
Two years ago, I'm very drunk and at a party and chatting with a very friendly woman. I don't know many people at this do, and so I'm grateful to her for being so nice. She twines herself around me.
"I'm sorry," she murmurs, "I always hit on straight women."
Not being equipped for a situation like this, since it has never happened before, I blush and stammer something.
"But you're not straight, are you?" she asks themn, lifting her eyes to my face.
I take a long swig of my drink: Actually, I am.
The point is, therefore, seeing as they Can Always Tell, do they know something I don't? "You're either bisexual or you're not," says a friend in Delhi. "Yes, but I was never a cat person till I got a cat," I say. (Insert obvious pussy joke here). Am I attracted to women? Well, no. The reason I'm attracted to men is because their bodies are different and therefore the fascination. With women, meh, I have the same equipment. On the other hand, if they can sense some sort of vibes from deep inside my subconcious--assuming ie that gaydar IS gaydar and not just wishful thinking--then maybe I should reconsider saying I'm straight.
You never know till you try, right? And god knows, I'm sick of men.
ps: I know homo/bisexuality isn't something you just "try" and so on, and I do know it's a definite orientation, something you're born with or can't deny and so on. I was just *thinking* of perhaps experimenting a little bit. Maybe they DO know something I don't.