Dr. William Minor was a madman. He murdered a man, not in cold blood, but in a psychotic state. He spent his life in an asylum. He was mad, in every sense of the word, even cutting off his penis to cleanse himself of past sins (such as obsessive masturbation). Dr. Minor was also a genius. His mind, in fact, was credited to writing a bulk of the Oxford English Dictionary.
Had it not been for Minor’s crime and inability to leave the asylum, there may never have been the fll version of the Oxford English Dictionary – perhaps one of the greatest print undertakings of its time (a period spanning the early 1900s to around 1927).
I’ve found myself fantasizing about women lately. The smoothness of their skin, the scent of them, the way they buck their hips forward when a man (or woman for that matter) moves to taste them. Ever the feminist, I am somewhat surprised that I’ve neve had the experience of being in love with another woman.
A part of me thinks the reason Dr. Minor was able to stay so intent on his work helping to define over 400,000 words, is because he was in love with Professor James Murray (the spearhead of the Osford dictonary project). While both Murray and Minor claimed to be straight, I’m not so sure I believe it. And a part of me wonders if it was the guilt over his feelings for Murray that propelled Minor to amputate his penis.
Anne H. had an affair with Ellen that spanned over three years. She ultimately left Ellen because she felt that she wasn’t “allowed” to have other friends and associations within the context of that lesbian relationship. Ellen simply said “I don’t want a girlfreind who wants those things,” speaking Anne’s request for more personal space and friends of both sexes. Anne, it turns out, wound up with a man.
I wonder, was Anne even bisexual? Or was Ellen a temp bandaide to the years of abuse Anne’s father had put her through as a child? Was she, in fact, straight?
Sexuality is such a confusing thing. At least, for me it is. I have heard that many “hardcore gays” don’t believe there is a such thing as bisexuality. Part of me believes that. Most of me doesn’t.
The fact is that I’ve always been attracted to both sexes. The grace and natural beauty of a woman is something that could never be compared to the hardness of a man’s body. The strip clubs I’ve been to have made me yearn to touch a woman in the most intimate of ways. And I’ve often found myself jealous of men – their ease at being able to be with a woman.
It’s not easy for a “straight” or “bi curious” woman to meet other women. Lesbians scoff at us, saying they don’t want to be anyone’s experiment. I don’t blame them for that. I can see how they would feel that way. At the same time, men have only one reaction when you tell them you think you are bisexual. Yep: (you guessed it) THREESOME!
I heard somewhere that one in three women confess to having fantasies about being with other women. Where are these women?
I once had a threesome. Make that a foursome. It was with a boyfriend and his younger brother. But more importantly, it was with his longtime “homegirl” (that’s how they referred to one another – something I felt was a little off putting but let slide by the mere virtue of her enormous tits). We went down on her, side to side. We took turns licking her and touching her. I loved kissing her and sucking on her nipples. I les. I haven’t been able to put her out of my mind for years.
Lately, I’ve begun talking to a woman whom I’m very interested in. However, I don’t know if it will ever “go there” because I’m entirely too self conscious to take it a step further with her. We have never met in person – only having met through personal ads. (She placed it, I responded). She is a goddess, I can see, through the pictures she’s shared with me. But my inate confidence that is natural for me with men (who seem to be so much easier and less complicated when it comes to getting them aroued) is entirely missing when it comes to this woman.
My thighs are too fat. My stomach hangs too low (a side effect from childbirth). My face now has wrinkles. And I’m surely, just overall, too fat, to be with her.
I know it’s ridiculous.
I have been posting on a site called Lesbian Memoirs. There, I have met some of the nicest women you could possibly think to meet. These women have embraced me and my uncertain sexuality. These women feel like family to me. They are encouraging and they never judge. They are what I always thought lesbians would be.
I have been assured, by this woman, that she’s more interested in a mental connection than a physical one and that she is, indeed, interested in me in a sexual way. But something inside of me tells me different.
Is it that the women I’ve known are naturally catty? Or is it something else? I’m not sure.
I’ve never had many female friends and I’ve alwasys felt competition over men around them. I grew up with no sisters and a strained relationship with m mother. Sometimes, I wonder if that’s waht this is all about – having nothing to do with what is feeling like an overwhelming desire to eat pussy these days.
Women don’t have penis’s to cut off. Maybe, if I did, I’d better understand where Dr. Minor was coming from. Afterall, it’s hard for me not to feel a kinship with a crazy, word-loving mad man. He and I are not that different, after all…
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