She’s already dressed to titillate—miniskirt, cleavage-baring top, lipgloss with the electric gleam of sex. She’s taken great care to ensure that she’s the bar’s resident hottie, and she’s heading out the door with one goal: to lap up male adoration.
She’s 90 percent sure that all the guys at this shindig will be tripping over themselves to buy her drinks, but if her sexy get-up doesn’t do the trick, she’s got one more trump card up her sleeve: bisexuality.
In college I had a roommate that lived for the party circuit. She woke up, shook off her hangover from the previous night, wiped the body fluid stains from her miniskirt, and prepared for the next kegger. Sometimes she would insist that my prudish, not-sleeping-with-random-strangers that “looked clean” lifestyle, wasn’t cutting it, and reluctantly I’d be dragged along.
She’d scope out the party, eyes narrowing on attractive girls that could be competition, and determine which belching male would be the one that would get to see her Powerpuff Girls sheets later. Usually it went well. The equation of drunk frat guy + willing female usually ended in a night full of grunts and moans at my apartment (my headboard was pressed against her bedroom wall so I got a front row seat to every “I’m not wearing a damn condom/Yes you are/No I’m not/Fine, but you’d better pull out” battle). But sometimes, for reasons that baffled my roommate, guys weren’t jumping on her like a lion on a hobbling gazelle. Although irksome, my roommate knew that this wouldn’t prevent her from getting what she wanted.
Stealthily, she’d seek out another like-minded girl, and together they’d share an intense 5-minute friendship to achieve their objective. “Oh, my god,” my roommate would yell loudly. “I’m sooooo drunk!” The other girl would follow her lead and chirp, “I feel like doing something totally crazy!” Inevitably some guy would yell, “Kiss!” and the two girls would giggle coyly, whipping the crowd into a frenzy with their should we or shouldn’t we attitude.
Finally, when enough male attention had been garnered, they’d make out as if Joe Francis had a video camera aimed at them, promising a Girls Gone Wild T-shirt if they went to second base. Guys cheered. My roommate’s face sparkled from her temporary fame. By the time the kiss was over, both girls had a flurry of new suitors.
Bisexuality has always gotten a bad rap. When a bisexual friend revealed her attraction to both men and women, most people looked at her as if she were at a restaurant and couldn’t decide between chicken or fish. “It’s annoying,” she told me, “because a lot of people would assume I’m in contemplation mode, trying to figure out which gender I really like. A common question people ask me is, ‘But which gender are you going to marry?’ And I’d think ‘I don’t know. I’ll tell you when I meet him or her.”
And the recent barrage of straight women willing to play bisexual at parties in order to attract male attention hasn’t helped. “Never have I had the urge to do a little show in public. And neither have my bisexual friends.”
A quick note to all the party girls seeking momentary fame in the form of drunken cheers as you make out with your straight friend: Bisexuality isn’t a cheap party trick, like tying a cherry stem into a knot with your tongue. So stick with scoring a one-night stand the old fashioned way - by approaching that guy nursing his seventh beer and declaring, “My name is _______ and I’d like to invite you to see me naked in a special one-night-only event. Please note the attire I’m wearing, as it heavily supports this statement. Won’t you consider stumbling home with me?”
Sometimes when you’ve got an objective that has mass appeal to your target demographic, you don’t need extra adornment.
Courtney Bee's articles on sex and relationships have appeared in Hustler, Playgirl, and numerous adult books. On ellorascave.com she's the bestselling author of Athima, an erotic novella, and a contributor to the new X-rated anthology Flavors of Ecstasy III. She's also a top-ranked sex columnist on examiner.com, where she betrays her prim Catholic upbringing on a daily basis.