This article was written for and ran in  The Frisky. It’s deeper look into my personal sex-life than I usually share, so consider yourself warned.

You’d think I’d remember the night that I discovered that my would be-husband was also bisexual—that the relationship I was entering into was a bi-bi partnership. But I can’t. It probably seemed … normal.

Previous boyfriends had not been out as bi, but some had made out with boys and, well, all of them did things like borrow my jeans or gush over indie-boy hotties. I guess bisexual boys are my type.

My husband wouldn’t take this new knowledge as an opportunity to suggest swinging in suburban hotel rooms. That’s the thing about a bi boyfriend—he knows that same-sex fooling around still “counts”. We entered into a monogamous relationship, but bisexuality didn’t die with the wedding. We discovered ways within the relationship to explore our queer-ness.

I do find his bisexuality hot. It’s not that I’m into the fact that he’s into sucking cock and Christian Bale. It’s that he’s done the work on himself to know his sexuality. When we’ve hung out with guy friends who’ve said something about “not being gay!”, he’s switched it into a positive conversation about sexuality and how he knew he was bi. It’s self-confidence. It’s being comfortable in your own skin. And that I’m into.

One Friday evening we took a visit to our local feminist sex shop. It’s the kind of place with non-threatening pastel walls and sample toys for fondling. Suddenly, we came upon it: a beautiful 7-inch, vein-y cock. Made from silicone. It even had balls! My husband ran his finger along the shaft and I knew we were taking it home.

As the girl rang up our purchases, commenting “good choice,” my husband turned to me. “Is there anything we can get to appeal to your, uh, inner lesbian?” Rubber boobs seemed silly. Did they even make those? I had nothing.

There was now a floating dick in our possession, and a harness soon followed.  But when I finally strapped it on I felt … awkward. Seeing curvy hips and a floppy apparatus above my thighs, I felt my crotch looked like Gonzo from “The Muppets.”

But, I put on a wife beater, tied my hair back and started to feel kinda hot. Hiding the bouncy strap-on under flannel PJs, I surprised my husband with couch makeouts. In a flurry of kissing, my silicone member was suddenly in his mouth, he was into it. So was I.

I liked taking on a more butch role. In my head I wasn’t a boy, but I was boy-like. And something about this did satisfy my “inner lesbian.” We made our way to the bedroom, and after a few positions found ourselves working up to anal penetration.

It was both romantic and weird. Being the one with the penis is so different. It’s powerful, having this thing to penetrate a vulnerable body part with. It also felt like an aspect of my bisexuality I never got right. I was terrible at taking control and picking up women. But now, here I was topping. And from this view, I really got his role: the vulnerability, openness and trust it takes to be the bottom in the equation.

Read the rest of this story at The Frisky

And know that being bisexual and married doesn’t mean this other side of you has to die inside monogamy. Sexuality is so much more than what happens in your bedroom. But there is something about the bi/bi fit that feels right.  Maybe it’s the dynamic. I can be more masculine, more sexually shifty, so I need a guy who can keep up.

Photo by Matthias St. John–this shot is actually one of our engagement photos!