Distractingly gorgeous security guard outside my building. Oh my.
I probably shouldn’t be texting
constantly while walking to work, but this friend is only a few buildings away and I figure he may want to make an excuse to walk by.
Gorgeous male or female?
Oh, right. It’s a woman. I type a brief description–short, butch, close-cropped hair, world’s whitest teeth.
I’m too shy to talk to her. She’s been there the last three days but I’m more than usually on the prowl and I can’t even look at her without having all sorts of unwholesome thoughts.
My friend is baffled by this, both the shyness and that I haven’t been having all sorts of deviant sex with all sorts of lovely people. After all, I’m queer and poly and kinky, that should maximize my options, right?
Here’s the thing. I don’t have a much more active sex life than most of my friends who are in relationships. Way less than the swingers. Part of this is that I’m rather selective about partners. Part of it is that being poly limits one to poly accepting people, who are a pretty small percentage of the population. Being kinky means squicking out people unfamiliar with kink. Within the group of kinky folks, switches are sometimes seen as strange alien anomalies. Being very feminine in dress means being written off as probably straight by some lesbians. Being very masculine in things other than appearance means making a lot of straight men uncomfortable (or in one case, agreeing with a friend that having sex would ruin our bromance). Not being gender/sex-exclusive in partner selection means alienating straight and gay folks alike. Add extreme anxiety and you’ll find that options are very limited indeed.
In this case, outside my friendly neighborhood kink club, the shyness is straight-up fear. Sure, she’s a kind of butch female security guard, but odds are still quite good that she’s straight. Even if she does prefer women and I’m her type, many lesbians don’t go for bi women. Even if she’s okay with bi women, I’m married. That seems to be a nigh-universal deal breaker outside of very specific circles.
None of that is a good reason not to say a friendly hello or ask about the setup that she seems to be guarding (There are lights and soft boxes and cables everywhere. They’re going to film something, goodness knows what or when). The issue is that I can be overly blunt when attracted to people. It helps prevent anxiety over trying to interpret every little gesture and glance and phrase. I worry about saying something like “just so you know, I think you’re really beautiful,” and getting punched because this is the South and that’s not okay.
Then again, I’d better manage at least a “hello” tomorrow. Walking past someone like they don’t exist every day is not only awkward but rude.