This is the level of intimate detail that made my diary interesting to read at one point, and makes me feel too self conscious now, but...

I have explained before that in my earliest sexual awareness, I was as far as I knew, attracted to women. Like buzzing feeling at the pit of my stomach adrenaline rush obvious not-fooling-myself attracted to women. Meanwhile at ballet school I was often confronted by some really fit naked men, and never got anything from it. This is unusual, as far as I know. Most gay men I've talked to have been gay from the start and any dalliances with girls were fumbled attempts. I was surely different from the start -- painfully girly, into dolls, satin capes, cooking, strewing rose petals etc. But attracted to men? Not until a few years after I became attracted to women.

As I grew through my teens, I started being noticing boys, and in college, interest in women waned, and men grew. Senior year I fell in love with Bob and never looked back. My theory is that I was just so flooded with hormones, I was attracted to, as they say, anything that moved.

Which is all just background for the strangest thing that happened last night. I was falling asleep on the couch after work, watching Reno 911. Travis Junior is shot, lying in the arms of Cheresa Kimball, the lesbian-seeming deputy. Junior wants to feel the passion of a woman in his last moments, so he asks Kimball to kiss him, and then to go to third base. "Third base, is that under the bra?" she asks.

Somehow, imagining third base, under the bra, made me remember getting to third base with a girl, early on. Unhooking it, sliding fingers between scratchy bra fabric and soft skin, I won't go on. And thinking about it kind of turned me on, which caused more flashbacks to my heterosexual youth. And I seriously wondered if in fact I could be bisexual, and have just ignored the straight part for so long I forgot about it. This is funny because as a teenager my plan was to do just the opposite, and ignore the gay part. But it's totally possible that my attraction to women atrophied, but didn't die.

All the more strange that a scene from Reno 911 brought this to mind, a scene in which a lesbian is compelled to kiss a man. Me hooking up with a girl still seems totally preposterous, but I am wondering if my brain is more complicated than I realize.