Very suddenly, and without opening my eyes, I realize
this is not my bed.
And there’s someone else in it.
I try to remember last night, but a haze of champagne allows only the
faint recollection of a birthday party and a game of truth or
That explains the headache.
I’m not quite willing to face the sunlight streaming in,
obscenely bright, so I reach with eyes still shut.
Hoping to find something familiar…Matt’s beard,
Joseph’s muscled arm,
A woman’s breast?
I freeze. Then gently, cautiously draw my arm back, trying not to
think about the sensation of warm smooth skin under my fingertips.
The sledgehammer attack suddenly doubles, threatening migraine.
Perhpas I could just go back to sleep and this will all go away?
But I gather all of my courage, such as it is,
and open my eyes, braced against the sunlight.
When they recover from the glare I see…
Masses of curly red hair,
Smooth, pale limbs on a gymnast’s body,
Small, but definitely female breasts,
And very bright, very worried green eyes, set in the heart-shaped face
of a stranger.
So what else can I do?
Just calm the concern on that face with a smile (only slightly forced)
Reach out a friendly arm and draw her close,
Begin perhaps to enjoy the odd sensation of breast against breast.
And try to relax.
They say the difference between a straight man and a gay man
is a six-pack of beer.
Well, I guess the difference between a straight woman and a bi woman
must be a couple of bottles of really good champagne.
At least we have better taste.
September 4, 1992