I have decided that sexuality does not need labels. I mean, what purpose do labels serve anyway (besides organizing my random blog posts)? The only purpose I see for labeling is to separate ourselves from one another, to find a way to point to someone across the room (or the web) and say “THAT is different from me.” Different isn’t necessarily bad, but it isn’t–oh what am I babbling about anyway? It’s me. There’s something wrong with me. No, not wrong. It’s not wrong. I just feel…well honestly, let me get back to the beginning of this post.

Sexuality does not need to be labelled or categorized. There’s no point in considering someone heterosexual, homosexual, bi or confused (insert plug in random orifice) if it’s very possible that our personal views of sexuality are fluid and change depending on our stages and experiences in life. Take me for instance. I like dick. Or, at least I did the last time I saw one in person. I’m going to assume my enjoyment of said organ hasn’t changed recently. But, I also find a couple of women attractive. (Which is why I keep staring at that picture of Katherine Heigl like it’s about to jump out of my screen.) Does that make me bisexual to some people? It doesn’t to me because I have no intention of ever having a sexual relationship with a woman. At least, for now I don’t.

But it makes me wonder what would happen if I did. Would I automatically have to consider myself bi because other people would? John Oszajca did a song a few years ago called “Bisexual Chick” about women who experiment or “become” bi as part of a trend; they lick clit because they want to be seen as cool. You know, instead of trying out the newest haircut or buying the same overpriced boots as their favorite celeb. I don’t ever want to be considered one of the women who only tried it because other people did and said it was cool. (Yes, that is Tyra Banks and her “friend” Kimora Lee in the picture. Unfortunately, I don’t have a picture of Tyra trying to feel up Beyonce that same night.)

The truth is, I don’t know what I want. Well, that’s not the whole truth. I know at some point I want to marry a man, have a few babies, become at least moderately well-known as a decent writer and maybe have some fun along the way. Making a little money on that journey wouldn’t hurt either. But I don’t know what I want in the way of… experimental sexual experiences. I don’t see myself ever being comfortable enough with a woman for that, not any time soon. But if I decide to try it, or even if I just think about it, I don’t know if I’m comfortable with the idea of being labeled for it. I know how my family and some of my friends are. It would be easier for me to lie and say I don’t have some curiosity or that nothing happened rather than be myself and expect everyone to be comfortable. Maybe I’m just making up excuses because I plan on meeting Angelina one day and holding her hostage for the day. ;-) Not that she’d be trying to get away. After all, she’d be with me.