Sometimes, I found myself attracted to women. My first crush was Jasmine Guy from A Different World, which grew into an infatuation for lighter skinned black women. I once heard Tyra Banks say, “The first relationship you have is with your mother/father.” She specified the bond a parent has with their child and how this is the first instance a child sees someone of the opposite sex interact emotionally and lovingly. I always wondered how this applied to gay men. Yet, it made sense.
As a kid, my bond with my mother was like sand to shores. I fell in love with her humor, beauty, and insight into life, which usually followed a great punch line. My relationship with my father was different. Growing up, we were so alike but distinct. If we went to high school together, my father would have been the jock and I, the choir drama club geek.
I realized that I was attracted to men with qualities like my mother and father. I loved my mother’s sense of humor but my father’s social skills and popularity. Nevertheless, after my “Whitley phase”, I moved onto my crushes on Aaliyah, Sarah Michelle Gellar, and of course, Britney Spears. Oh, and there was this one girl from college who I swore made my heart beat so loud, I could hardly hear myself think. Her name was Sandra. I finally built up the nerve to talk to her the last couple of weeks before summer break. We hit it off great but due to expenses, I did not get to attend college in Florida the following semester. I really liked her. I even wrote her poetry on her birthday, which I had never done for anyone. Til this day, she’s the only girl I’ve ever thought about sexually. Well, up until I knew of Adrianne.
Adrianne Cole was the hottest lesbian I had ever come across in my life. I never exactly met her but we worked at the same facility just this past summer. She was what lesbian women would call a “stud”, meaning she embraced a more masculine persona. However, in my eyes, Adrianne was a dude. Looks-wise, she fit every what-Langston-finds-attractive stereotype. She was a “pretty boy”. She was light skinned, had broad shoulders, and dressed in mostly khaki slacks and button downs. She wore her hair in a curly short Mohawk style. Even her voice was neutral enough to come off like a guy.
I constantly joked with my friends that, “Here comes my boyfriend,” as Adrianne walked to her desk. “If only she had a penis,” I commented to my closest co-worker as we laughed, elaborating on how sexy she was and finding it ironic that her name fit both men and women; just different spellings. Of course, I never pursued her, but it made me wonder, with all the man-troubles I was having lately, would I ever consider playing for the other team? Honestly, the real reason I was attracted to Adrianne in the first place was she reminded me of a guy.
Nonetheless, I knew women who knew I was openly gay and stilled continued to flirt with me and even suggest if I was ever interested in sex with them, it could happen. It surprised me. Was I bi-curious? No. Not really. Okay, about a pinch. That’s it. However, if women, who lived a heterosexual lifestyle could sleep with a woman and by society’s standards, not be considered lesbian, why couldn’t I accept the possibility of intimacy with a woman and not be considered bisexual?