Life's a Bitch and so is Dating

The first words out of Jacki's mouth were, "I know I am the biggest bitch and you have every right never to speak to me again." She then began apologizing profusely for not returning my calls. She launched into a story about how she had been fighting with her boyfriend the whole weekend. Obviously the breakup process was not going well. At least not for me. It was clear that my Thursday night make-out session with her hadn't meant much.

I listened to her complain about him for an hour. I gave her the benefit of the doubt and my forgiveness. She asked me to drive her to the airport in a few days--she was going home for Christmas. Being a complete sucker, I said yes. I wanted to see her, and I knew she was going through a tough breakup. I appreciated her honesty, though I would have preferred she had kept it to herself. Talk about excess baggage. I never realized how much garbage women bring into a new relationship. Feels like you're dating them, their bad habits, their exes and every tiny thing that happens to them each day. My first real experience of falling in love with a woman was not going well at all.

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This story is dedicated to all the men out there who have been hurt by a woman. OK, virtually every guy in the world has been hurt by a woman, some to the point of devastation. On behalf of the fairer sex, I would like to apologize to all of you. I learned firsthand what you guys go through, and I am truly sorry.

I am a 24-year-old woman. I live in Los Angeles. I consider myself to be fun, cool and, (continued on page 138)Life's a Bitch(continued from page 114) most of all, nice. I am not perfect, but I have good friends and I've dated many great guys. I also like women. I'm slightly beyond the experimental phase. A few years back I did some stuff--OK, everything you can think of--with my best friend. Although both of us had boyfriends at the time, we occasionally messed around with each other. Also, a stripper once kindly sucked my breasts during a lap dance and an 18-year-old friend once stuck her tongue down my throat for a free beer at a fraternity party. The guy who dared us ended up giving us an entire six-pack. Thanks to these experiences, I am fascinated with the thought of a passionate, deep relationship with a woman.

Which brings me to my story. One evening my friend Michael mentioned that he had someone he wanted to set me up with. I was interested because I know he has impeccable taste in men. "What's he like?" I asked. Michael was nervous. He said he didn't want to offend me, but he had heard I swung both ways and wanted to set me up with a great girl. I was surprised but curious. "You mean, on a date?" I replied. I pictured a girl in fatigues and a buzz cut with a cigarette dangling from the side of her mouth. I was scared. I like only beautiful women--ones who look like women. He reassured me this girl was gorgeous and feminine. She had broken up with her boyfriend and wanted to try something new. To be exact, she wanted to try something petite, blonde and fun. Yep, that's me.

Several weeks went by and I forgot about Michael's setup. He never mentioned the mystery girl again, so I was completely unsuspecting when I showed up at his birthday party two months later. I went to the party with my best friend, Natalia, a hot Austrian actress. (Yes, she's the one I messed with. Unfortunately, our situation became awkward and we went back to being just friends.) I tell her everything, including how Michael wanted to set me up.

At one point, I went outside with Natalia to smoke a cigarette. When I returned, Michael was standing next to a new female guest. Then they both turned around. She had a thin and flawless body. She wore black leather pants and her tight orange top stretched over large breasts. She was amazing. Could this be the girl? I wondered. Natalia must have sensed something because she took off. Great. I was left to fend for myself

Her name was Jacki. She was from the East Coast and in graduate school. She was Italian, like me, and she was a writer. If there is such a thing as love at first sight, this was it. I was so attracted to her, not just because of her distinct features and raspy voice--it was also the way she looked at me. She stared openly at my body and looked directly into my eyes. I felt like I was about to have an orgasm. No man has ever looked at me that way. Only a woman has the sultry, seductive--and ultimately destructive--bedroom eyes that Jacki flashed at me. Part of me felt like a piece of meat. No, all of me felt like a piece of meat, and almost all of me enjoyed it. I was hot for this girl. I didn't know if she was who Michael had in mind, and I didn't care. I wanted her. We ended up talking for two hours. She gave me her number and I gave her mine. She left before I did and I was flattered that she had spent the entire evening with me. I ran up to Michael and told him, "I don't know who you were setting me up with, but I want Jacki." He said, "You like her? She thinks you're amazing, too." She was the one, all right.

I went home that night with a geeky I-love-life feeling that I thought was reserved only for high school boys who have just gotten their first blow jobs. Sort of pathetic, I know, but I couldn't help it. I felt she was perfect for me. She eased all my qualms about getting involved with women. It had been only a few hours but already I wanted to see her again.

I thought the mature thing to do was to call her right away, instead of waiting a few days as some guys do. To get around the standard game playing, Saturday morning I left a message on her machine asking her to call me when she had a chance. Well, I guess she didn't have a chance until Wednesday morning, which is when she called. Talk about frustrating. (For the record, I have never waited more than a day to return a first phone call.) I knew I was being sensitive. We spoke again Wednesday night and realized we were going to the same Christmas party the next night. When I showed up, with about eight friends, I saw Jacki there with her roommate. Introductions all around. I teased her about being dressed like a snow queen because she was wearing a floor-length white coat. The coat was slightly open, revealing the cleavage of her perfect breasts and the skin of her flat stomach. I noticed something sparkle on her tongue--not one but two tongue rings. Oh, my. I thought that I was going to die right there on the floor.

I had a great time. I tended to my friends and she went back and forth between her roommate and me. Each time she left me, she would give me a deep, warm kiss. She still had that look in her eyes. As the night progressed, I busied myself dancing with my friends. She was across the room talking to people. She smiled at me and I smiled back. Then I noticed she had disappeared. My friends were ready to leave, but I wanted to find Jacki to say goodbye. To my utter amazement, she had already left. I couldn't believe it. What does this mean? I thought. Something I said? Something I did? Maybe something bad happened to her. I called her house. No answer. Was she just plain rude? My friends thought so. "What a freak show," they said. "Don't ever talk to that bitch again. You can get any pierced psycho in LA." I was hurt.

Friday morning, I left Jacki a message to see if she had made it home--and to see if she was free on the weekend. She called me back at 11:30 Monday night. Now I knew she was insensitive. I was sure I didn't want to be friends with her. It was the type of thing my friends do to guys all the time. They act interested one minute, then shun them the next. Although I'm not one to feign interest, I have to admit that I am guilty of not returning guys' phone calls--but only after I've made it clear they have no chance.

Although I had agreed to take her to the airport, I decided to forget about Jacki and to move on. However, I had forgotten I was dealing with an expert in the art of the tease. A week went by. I came home from a great first date with a guy (who, by the way, treated me like a queen) and I saw the light on my phone flickering. Jacki had left me a message. She said she didn't need a ride to the airport--her so-called ex-boyfriend was taking her. She would call me from Florida. She said it twice. Suddenly, irrationally, my hopes went sky-high again. And it didn't hurt that the new guy called to tell me what a fantastic person I was and to tell me how much he enjoyed my company. If I'd had my pick, I would have gone with Jacki. I had a feeling I wasn't her first priority, but whatever she was doing to me was working. She was driving me up the wall.

Jacki called me when she was back in town--never from Florida. If a man had treated me that way, I would never speak to him again. But she left an apologetic message (she blamed her mom's cell phone or something) and somehow I was hooked. When I called her, we had a long conversation about her boyfriend (what else?), her mom and her stressful life. When she asked me to a movie I jumped at the chance.

I arrived at her apartment at nine o'clock. She was on the phone with her mom and barely greeted me, stressed out, as usual. I sat on her balcony for 10 minutes while she chain-smoked and chatted. Finally she hung up, sighed and railroaded me into a conversation about how she was fighting with her ex again. She was distracted and distant. Wow. How did I get so lucky? I have a schoolgirl crush on this gorgeous woman who couldn't care less about me. The sparkle in her dark eyes was gone; she looked lost in her thoughts. On the way to the movie, she said she had to stop at her ex' to drop off a shirt. Oh, that's a real turn-on. I was actually on a date with a woman who decided to make a quick stop at her old boyfriend's house to drop off one of the 900 belongings of his that she had in her car. No man has ever pulled a stunt like that with me. Men can't let out an accidental burp without getting the boot.

How do men deal with this garbage? I was not going to stick around to find out. I searched my memory and realized I had put men through some fairly ridiculous situations. Karma had come back to bite me on my unsuspecting ass. I thought of all the times my friends and I had laughed about ignoring some guy who had sent flowers. Now guilt swept over me. Jacki had taken advantage of my feelings. I wasn't a challenge and never would be.

Guys, I'm sorry. It is not OK for women to misbehave and get away with it. And, ladies, please remember, behind every phone cell and first date is a person with real feelings. I know I'm never going to forget it.

Now I'm seeing a guy who's awfully happy I'm not with Jacki. I've also had a few more experiences with women (and, yes, he knows). Still, when I'm with him, I sometimes close my eyes during sex and picture Jacki's breasts and her dark, yearning eyes. I hear her deep, seductive voice.

I want what everyone wants. I want to love and be loved. Until that happens, I'm all for a bit of fun. Sometimes I feel like a total dog and imagine being with anyone, anywhere. Other times I play out this fantasy where my dream girl and I go to the grocery store. We stop in the cereal section and I just have to grab her tits and slam her against the Lucky Charms and kiss her real hard. I want her to want it so badly she almost can't wait until we get home. Is that too much to ask? I want to hold her and have her hold me for what seems like forever and it's still not enough. But I don't have that. I have the toys (they're OK) and erotic sex--the hair pulling, the screaming, the making out on the couch for hours. I've got my guy friend. But I want the real deal. I want love.

Every bisexual woman is different. Some just want a little girl action on the side, a secret to tell their boyfriends. Some girls are just curious and never take it too far. And some are like me--real bisexual women who can fall in love with a man or a woman.

Loving is easy. It's getting there that's hard.