Blogging in Shadows

Since the publication of groundbreaking study that bisexual men do in fact exist, I thought it would be a good time to post something from my upcoming book.  Below is the introduction to Bisexual Men, which will be released on 23rd September (International Celebrate Bisexuality day).  Bisexual Men will be available in print and as an e-book on eXcessica, Amazon.com and Amazon.co.uk

Introduction

In search of the Invisible Man

Where are all the bisexual men?  Where are the male role models, making it easier for others to accept who they are?  Where are the male celebrities stealing kisses at award ceremonies? Male-identified bisexuals don’t only exist in the media, they live next door, stand next to me at the bus stop.  Bi men are friends and colleagues.  But when I started thinking about bisexual men, I could only find a handful; a famous wrestler, a couple of rock stars, and various men in the European bisexual communities whom I’d see at BiCon (Convention of Bisexuality) every year.  As much as I admired these guys, I knew I wanted more.  But then maybe they were keeping quiet because bisexual men tend to get a raw deal in the grand scheme of things?  Bi men bring queerness a little too close to home for the liking of some who find it easier to dismiss them as either curious or experimenting; never settling, but always a pretender to the throne. 

Bisexuality has often been marginalised by both straight and gay/lesbian communities.  It seems that every year a study is published to state that there is no such thing as bisexuality for men, as if sexual orientation can be boxed up and disposed of as simply as that.  An attraction to more than one gender is not something just for women.  Not all bisexual men live in secret (or on the Down-Low if you’re in the U.S).  Some men are proud of their orientation, some are less so.  Regardless of their visibility, I wanted to write something in celebration of these fierce souls who have open arms and hearts too.  In doing so, I’ve learnt that these once-invisible men truly are everywhere.

Fuck ‘em all is a story about a man who completely accepts himself, including his sexuality.  He only gets angry at people who don’t do the same.  Homeless tells of a man who buys sex from men, with the full knowledge of his angelic wife.  What’s in a Name? shows how a faux pas in bed (calling out the wrong lover’s name) can lead to self-discovery for all involved.  Not with a bang, but a whimper sees a sexual surrogate observe her changing relationship with two men—one a lover and one a friend. 

Some of the characters have to reach rock bottom before they start living the life they truly want.  In How Special is Special? A man faces a terrible dilemma on his wedding day; choose the bride or the best man.  My Generation is all about a man who finds himself taking a bit too much interest in the boy bands his daughter loves.  He doesn’t want to call himself bisexual in case the name sticks, but he learns to embrace his changing desires with time.

Bisexual men come from all backgrounds: in David does BiCon, the central character falls for a man with ‘skin the colour of soot.’  I’ve found my man takes place during the Notting Hill Carnival, which is the largest multicultural event in Europe.  The players quickly change their views as to what types of people are bisexual during a sexy evening of fun.

Bisexual men exist, period.  If you still think they’re invisible, then maybe you’re looking in the wrong place.  I love bisexual men, every single chance I get.  Please enjoy these stories and see why that’s the case.

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Bisexual Men will be available in print and as an e-book on eXcessica,  Amazon.com and Amazon.co.uk

I wrote David does BiCon in 2010, and followed it up with Debbie does BiCon a year later.  Both of these tales are about the fun that can be had at the biggest bisexual event in the U.K.  But nothing I could write could ever sum up this amazing weekender.

  It could start meeting old friends in the registration queue, hugging, kissing and slapping backs (was it really last year that I saw them?)  Name badges covered with stickers and stars; a shorthand way of finding out if the person beside you really is into spanking, or if that tiny black square just means they’re a Torchwood fan.

There seems to be a tradition that attendees must all simultaneously go on a trip to the local supermarket to stock up on weekend food.  It’s the one time of the year when everyone in Sainsbury’s looks like a Goth, but that’s just because the Rockers are still in the bar.  It’s a wonderful experience that makes me feel as if I am not a minority within a minority.  And when the bisexuals come to Sainsbury’s don’t expect to find any tofu left behind…

There are sessions aplenty, but some people never go to any.  There are outdoor spaces colonised by smokers and knitters.  If the weather is good, you’ll find more people outside having spontaneous sing-alongs, bullwhip demonstrations, and giving out countless invites to kitchen parties.

If the weather is wet and cold, I’ve found the Naked Lunch room will be the warmest spot.  All those nude people eating sandwiches and ice cream is something I never thought I’d be interested in.  But once clothes are shed, I can relax like nowhere else.  And everyone’s bodies are different, with lumps and freckles and scars.  Everyone smiles.  Everyone shares their food, and new friends are made in the most unlikely of places.

 BUT…

I have had a mini-crisis every year since 2007.  Do I go to BiCon this year, or give it a miss?  The event doesn’t exist in isolation; some people bring their bigotry and stupidity to BiCon.  I’ve been angry and upset during the event.  I’ve had attendees be racist and nasty and cruel to me.  But thankfully this has been the minority.  The good far outweighs the bad.

And some selected good bits:

Cuddle parties:  Who invented this amazing thing?  I want to send them some flowers and box of chocolates.  At my first BiCon in 2007, I was hugged more times in the first two days than I had been for my entire life up to that point.  The cuddle party pushed that all to the side when I spent an hour being held, snuggled, cuddled, squished and stroked.  Cuddle parties are bliss.

Reading my smut:  There’s no bigger boost to my confidence than to have eighty-odd people pile into a room, and listen as I read stories I’ve written.  I sang a dirty song in 2009 as a way to finish the session, and I simulated anal sex while reading a story in 2010.  I’ve given out vegan chocolates, spanked myself, and been told that I should “never be a nun!” by a listener  Which is the best career advice I could ask for…

Meeting new friends and lovers:  I am not a night-time person.  I’m usually in bed by 11, and I won’t make much sense at that hour.  But I’ve stayed up until the early morning chatting with people.  I’ve watched flogging demonstrations way into the night.  I’ve done the semi-naked walk of shame back to my room too many times to have a shred of dignity left.  And it’s all been great!  I’ve met lovers here too, not in the sexually charged private parties that seem to happen at the drop of a hat, but during daytime sessions, and whilst I stood with the smokers and the knitters simply passing the time. 

I may have a mini-crisis about BiCon every year, but I’m immensely grateful that this event exists.  The Lesbian, Gay and Trans scenes and communities in the United Kingdom are generally very poor at anything to do with bisexuality.  It is wonderful to have a space where my sexual orientation isn’t just an add-on, something mentioned once as a way to get some funding.  BiCon is great.  That’s why I keep coming back for more.  That’s why I keep writing about it!

The following excerpt is from Debbie does BiCon, a story from my collection: NSFW: Not Safe for Work.  This is fiction.  Your experience of BiCon may vary.  Past results are not an indicator of future fun.  Always consult a friend before embarking on a spanking…

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Debbie does BiCon

The room was heaving.  The heat didn’t make things any easier, but I squeezed inside the seminar room just as Winifred, the workshop leader pinned the ‘session full’ sign to the door.  Sweat collected in my cleavage, making me wish I could just escape into a long cool shower.  However there was no escaping this workshop; a last minute addition to a convention of bisexual activism, sci-fi, parties and perversity.  It was my sixth time attending BiCon, however I hadn’t learned a single thing in all that time.  This year I had brought too many clothes, not enough money, and not a single drop of lube, although that wasn’t such a problem as I hadn’t had any offers for fun so far.  If I couldn’t get laid after this session, then I was handing back my bisexual identification card, and becoming a nun.  BiCon was a great weekender, better than Christmas in some respects, but the current not-getting-laid part was frustrating too.

I really had no idea who would turn up to a session called, Spanking for the fearful; I was sure that most of the people crammed into the seminar room were seasoned veterans in the field of spanking.  I’d come to this session straight after one called, Bisexuality and Role-play.  There seemed to be quite a bit of a crossover between the lovers of fantasy and those who appreciated a well-tanned bottom.  Some of the attendees had turned up to the session in costume: a green-skinned alien scribbled in a notebook, whilst someone in a silver robot outfit sat awkwardly on the edge of their seat.  There were less outlandish attendees as well.  I took in the sight of Thomas, or Master Thomas as he was sometimes known.  The young man grinned like a crazy person as he took his seat.  Thomas had been without a partner since his last submissive left to become a translator in Switzerland.  I’d seen Thomas play before, and he was truly awesome to watch; he could handle a bullwhip like a professional.  Thomas also had a sense of humility which was something sorely lacking in most dominant people I’d met.  I wondered if he was looking for someone new to take under his wing, or if he was just after a good time like the rest of us.

The good time in question was in the shape of one Andrea Willis-Sobotka.  Andrea was the most arrogant person I knew, period.  She was also the most drop-dead gorgeous woman I’d ever come across, figuratively speaking of course.  Andrea stood with her back to the rest of the room, head bent, hands crossed behind her back.  She wore a black thong and nothing else.  The temperature rose by several degrees as I appreciated the sight.

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NSFW: Not Safe for Work is also available on (U.K) Kindle and (U.S) Kindle

BiCon is happening in Leicester this year.  I’m looking forward to it!