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How Not To Get A Woman
By Kythryne Aisling

Dear Random Woman Who Called The Office Again Today:

No, I still do not know how you can "get a woman." In fact, I'm beginning to suspect that you're enough of a chauvanistic pig that the only way you'll be able to get a woman is if you pay for one. And even then, your chances are likely pretty slim, because most of the sexworkers I know have a rather finely honed ability to tell when someone will be entirely more trouble than they'll tolerate for $200 an hour.

Here's a little hint for you, since you seem to have somehow managed to dodge the cluestick until now: women are not sex objects, nor are they merchandise. And it's pretty widely known that if you want to get into a woman's pants, you'll have the best luck if you start out by trying to get into her head.

Forgive me if I seem a bit reluctant to divulge the directions to Sappho Avenue, but you see, I've had more than a few encounters with women like you before, and frankly, the queer community isn't going to welcome you with open arms. Or open legs.

You see, there's a reason I'm reluctant to claim the label of bisexual, and it's not the oh-so-politically-correct "bisexual implies that there are only two genders" excuse that I usually offer up when someone asks why I scribble in "queer" on any forms that inquire as to who I'll do. The real reason is that I'm tired of having people hear "bisexual" and immediately translate that into "skanky ho who'll fuck anything that holds still long enough." I may be a slut, but I'm a choosy slut with high standards and a strong sense of ethics.

I'm also tired of being hit on by "bi-curious" women who want to venture into the Big Scary World Of Pussy Licking, but only if it's accompanied by the restriction of (pick one from Column A and one from Column B) My Husband Won't Find Out or Can My Boyfriend Watch? and I Only Like Skinny Femme Women With Long Nails or None Of That Kinky Shit, without stopping to think that perhaps there's a person attached to the genitalia who might not enjoy getting dumped when the aforementioned "bi-curious" woman decides that she really does prefer the cock after all.

Not to mention that I'm very tired of having to explain that yes, I am a bisexual polyamorous woman, but no, I won't fuck you unless you're already my friend, reasonably well acquainted with either latex or the doctors at the STD clinic, and willing to introduce me to your (check all that apply) husband/wife/boyfriend/girlfriend/domestic partner/chewtoy/pimp/significant other not otherwise specified, and even then your chances are pretty damn slim because my dance card is already full and there's a waiting list just for dates and phone calls, thank you very much now go away.

And if you can't connect the dots between those three statements and my reluctance to help you on your quest to Get A Woman (But My Husband Can't Know About It), then you're even dumber than you sound over the phone and I'm going to have to trade the Nerf Cluestick in on a 2x4 Cluestick for the next round of Why I Wouldn't Help You Even If It Was In My Job Description, Which It's Most Decidedly Not.

Have a nice day.

No love,
The Very Unhelpful Woman At The GLBT Counseling Organization