We hear the words “I knew I was gay since…” fall from the mouths of friends and lovers – sometimes from our own reflective lips—and we never even think to question the authenticity of such statements. “…I was five…the 7the grade…high school.” Sometimes these words are spoken in retrospection as we remember the way we couldn’t keep our eyes off Molly Ringwald, or the way our heart hurt when the captain of the football team made fun of our stonewashed Levi’s, but sometimes these reflections aren’t about hindsight. Sometimes they demonstrate 110% clear, confident knowledge of a lifetime of same sex sexual attraction. You remember wanting to kiss your science lab partner on the mouth, you fantasized about locker room hand-jobs. In either case (uncertain longing for a friend, or a clear cut hotness for a person of the same sex) most of the time there was no hook-up. Maybe by the time high school rolled around, more likely it was freshman year of college, but the lack of actual fooling around never negates your gayness. We don’t need to answer the awkward parental coming-out question, “But, how do you know?” because most of the time, you just do.

Unfortunately, this trust in the inherent nature of sexuality isn’t really shared with folks who identify as bisexual.

My internal GPS is a little off these days. It seems that there are a lot of roads under construction and I haven’t yet updated the latest maps. In the 3 months since I started this site many things have happened and the big question now is one of direction.

Brooklyn has never had lobster. How is that possible?! So, I invited him to dinner at the home I am house sitting at and I plan to wow him with my culinary skills. To start? A simple arugula, pine nut, and shaved parmesan salad with a drizzle of extra virgin olive oil and a squeeze of lemon. To end? Pate de Fruit in assorted tropical flavors. To drink? New Zealand S.Blanc from the Marlborough Region. Amazing? Yes, it will be.

I had the birthday that almost wasn’t. The night before I had met up with a friend for Pho, knowing I was sick, he offered to drive up to the curb and pick me up, then drive me the few blocks to my condo. I had all of my belongings in my hand, including my phone and walked 8 feet to his car. I remembered looking at my phone in my hand in the car. I then hug him goodbye and get out of the car and walk the 8 feet to my door, unlock it, place everything on the chair next to the door and walk my dog. When I got back in I went for my phone so that I could call Brooklyn back in order to coordinate our plans for my bday but my phone wasn’t there. Hell, it was in his car.

We agreed on a place and time. Talked several times during the day as I did laundry, showered, changed three times and finally picked up the rental car. He makes me smile. I save his texts for days because they are cute, honest, sincere and without pretense. He recites poetry verses or makes an ass of himself, only I don’t think of him as an ass, so it just endears him more deeply to me. He lets me know that he is thinking of me and that it made him smile and for that he is thankful. Who does that?

As a bisexual in Los Angeles, a never-ending landscape comprised of gays, breeders, and the indifferent, I feel like I can offer reasonable pieces of advice to people of all sexual orientations. These are some of the no-nos when it comes to first meeting a potential mate on Match.com

There is a lot written about the magic surrounding the number three. Good things, bad things, sacred and evil things. What I know is this: I have had three dates with Brooklyn Boy in 4 days. I don’t normally have two dates with anyone in one week, let alone, three in 4 days. Let alone, canceling dates with one individual to go out with another. Let alone, Let alone, Let alone.

I’ve never wanted to check the box next to bisexual, but I do NOT fit neatly into the other boxes either. My philosophy is: why should I have to chose a man or a woman when overall, there are so many people that just aren’t right for me. I decided to try my luck on Match.com in late November of last year, and because this dating website doesn’t allow you to say that you are interested in both men and women at the same time, I decided to switch my profile back and forth every 2-3 weeks.

I arrived first, on time even, which is a rarity for me. I sat by the reading the NY Times Arts section as I waited. The bartender, a youngish musician type, made me a surprise rum cocktail because they were out of the usual cider I mixed it with. I heard someone come in and ask where the bar was before he realized that it was right in front of him. I looked up and smiled, greeted him warmly and started to hear voices in my head. Hmmm. He grabbed himself a Hendrick’s and tonic to start and we sat at the bench by the fireplace finishing our first drinks while we waited for a spot at the bar.

I don’t normally care who is dating whom in the world of the quasi-famous, but this one is pretty exciting: Bisexual Dresden Dolls member, and talented solo musician, Amanda Palmer has become engaged to Coraline author Neil Gaiman. The former’s PR company reports that Palmer is “overjoyed” about this, probably because she has now become one half of my ideal dinner party company. And can you even imagine what their sex life would be like? We’re talking about the union of the people responsible for Sandman and Coin Operated Boy. Sheesh. Way to make us look boring and ordinary, Amanda Palmer and Neil Gaiman. But I also wish you the best of freakishly-talented luck in your life together.