lovingbisexuality

[lovingbisexuality]

Bi women are sometimes dumb. What's there to explain more? Bi women find an average man and think he's "the one".

[lovingbisexuality]

Men can't enjoy things written about lesbian/wlw love. Not because its for lesbians/wlws only, but because men will always turn it into a fetish and start sexualizing lesbians/bi women with gfs.

Think of it like girls who are fujoshi. There are real stories of gay/bi men being sexualized by fujoshi girls in real life. Men who read yuri manga and women who read yaoi manga are the same thing. Yet only fujoshi girls get hate for sexualing gay/bi men.

If a white person started only reading stories about black people and made a meme about how they only think about black people, you would think that person is insane. Sure, you can be white and enjoy stories made by black people for black people. But enjoying it so much that you turn it into your personality? Now that's creepy.

Men are men, and they are going to stay like that.

[lovingbisexuality]

You post ai generated porn, shut up

[lovingbisexuality]

For starters, he openly talked about reading and liking yuri manga. If a guy likes to consume lesbian media, then he has a fetish for lesbians.

I wouldn't be surprised if in the future he comes out as trans

[lovingbisexuality]

Yup. You have a fetish for lesbians

[lovingbisexuality]

What does radblr have to say about this man?

I talked to my fb page chat today about buying yuri at the store

[lovingbisexuality]

I'm not sure if this is supposed to be a reference to an anime or whatever. This entire thing is just weird and maybe a part of your fetish or kink

Recently I decided to go to my local fighting game tournament.

Here's how it went.

I had been getting pretty good at Guilty Gear over the past few weeks, to the point where I was getting the input correctly for the Potemkin Buster 1 out of every 4 or 5 times I tried it. So I thought "I might not be the best yet, but, surely good enough for my local" -- and I decided to go.

It took place at a the comic & games store in the town center. The venue was full of people 10-15 years younger than me and even more drastically cooler. They all turned to glare at me as I walked through the door, but as I stood completely motionless like a gazelle hoping to blend into the grassland, their gazes slowly returned to each other and they continued to banter friendlily.

I sat down next to me first opponent, and reached out to shake their hand. They looked down at my hand, and then up at my eyes slowly.

"You're supposed to do that at the end of the match."

"Oh, s-sorry"

I got perfected twice and lost the match. At the end, I reached out again to shake their hand, but they just stood up and walked away.

Because I lost, I got moved down to the loser's bracket, which was literally below the main tournament because it took place in the basement of the comic shop. I could hear footsteps, cheering, and happy conversation in the floor above. Here in the loser's bracket though, the mood was a lot more somber.

My next opponent reminded me a little bit of me. They were equally nervous and disheveled looking. They said "Um, h-hello" and reached out their hand for a handshake as they saw me approaching. I said "you're s-supposed to do that at the end of the match." But as a look of deep sadness came over their face and they slowly put down their hand, I pulled them in for a hug.

I'm not sure why I did that.

I think that some part of me knew that, in this dark, dank, alien place, illuminated only by a single failing ceiling light and the neon glow of a few arcade machines, I had at last found a friend -- someone I understood, and who might understand me too.

They hugged back.

I lost that match by a very narrow margin, and as they jumped up and began dancing around and cheering ecstatically, I began to hate them. This was no friend of mine. A friend would not do this to me. After they were done dancing, they reached out to shake my hand. After a few seconds of pause, I stuck out my hand too, but didn't look at them and refused to close it around theirs as they grasped it. They shook my karate chop.

I thought that at that point, since I had lost and then lost in loser's bracket, I was free to go home. But one of the tournament organizers approached me and informed me that I was going down to sub-loser's bracket in the sub-basement of the store, and pointed me towards a descending staircase.

The people there were fewer, and it was darker. I could faintly hear sobbing in one of the corners, but as I went to investigate, another participant put his hand on my shoulder. He furrowed his brow in a look of pain and shook his head slowly.

"You can't do anything for them."

In sub-loser's bracket I went up against a man in a suit whose face was cloaked in shadow. He spammed May's dolphin move. I lost.

As I went to go back upstairs, one of the tournament organizers held out her palm to stop me, and pointed towards a staircase leading further down instead.

Going down through the levels, I lost to many interesting participants. One player played exclusively by bashing the controller against his face. One player was a mushroom with a few circuit cables clipped onto it, that I later learned was able to play because its bioelectrical signals got sent to a machine that interpreted them as fighting game inputs. One player didn't touch their controller at all, but instead just told me their life story, which was so tragic that I picked up their controller and won for them.

Finally, at the very bottom floor, where construction standards were long abandoned and the stairs and walls were just messily carved out of the earth's stone, I faced my final player. It was a small bit of metal framework, with a controller nestled in it. On it was a tiny piston that just pressed the jab button exactly once every second. I lost.

I hung my head for a moment, then said "close game" and stuck my hand out for a handshake, before remembering that I had played against a metal framework cube with a piston in it and retracting my hand slowly. Then I heard a slow clapping from the darkness.

"No neutral. No footsies."

Out of the darkness slowly walked a woman about my age, clad in a decorative poofy dress that looked more expensive than my entire life savings. She smiled at me warmly, continuing to clap slowly, but there was a hint of mischief in her eyes.

"No meter management. No mixups. No spacing. No learning. No strategy…

…You're perfect."

"Wh-what?"

"You're perfect. I absolutely must have you."

"Have me for…um…for what…"

(Her eyes went wide as her smile grew more manic.)

"WHY, MY MORON FAILSON HAREM OF COURSE."

"Um, I-I"

"Tell me, what do you do for a living? Let me guess, you work at a fast food restaurant? Or, retail?"

"No, I'm a--I'm a comic artist."

"HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!! Oh my god, you are PERFECT. What will it take to get you."

"To-to ge--"

"You would be well taken care of, of course. 3 Michelin star dining for every meal. Only the finest, softest sweatpants and sweatshirts, pre-stained with whatever flavor of Takis your little heart desires. You would have access to the entire mansion except for the main foyer when I'm in business calls, and you could make all the comics and play all the fighting games you want."

"I'm uh--"

I knew that I had to think fast here.

"I'm already i-in a moron failson harem."

"Oh, DARN IT!! TELL ME, WHO IS IT??? WHO GOT YOU??"

"I-I think I'm not allowed to s-sa--"

She stomped her foot petulantly, her shoe clacking against the stone floor.

"WAS IT SHUXUAN?? IT'S ALWAYS SHUXUAN HOGGING ALL OF THE GOOD ONES."

"I-I'm sorry," I blurted out, shuffling along the wall to make a wide radius around her and then running up the staircase.

As I got home and began making my standard dinner of Trader Joe's microwave falafel, I thought about her offer. Maybe I should have taken her up on it after all. A 3 Michelin star meal right now wouldn't be so bad.

Then I hopped on Guilty Gear and lost 22 matches in a row.

[lovingbisexuality]

Can we speak out about this guy's werid obsession with lesbians? I think shencomix has a lesbian fetish

[lovingbisexuality]

[lovingbisexuality]

[lovingbisexuality]

"I don't like eating pussy for sensory reasons"

"I can't eat pussy if there's hair"

Funny I've never heard anyone, man or woman, say something like this about sucking dick. Blow jobs are a whole chore, keeping your jaw wide open for 5-20 minutes, and you do still get hair in your mouth if he doesn't shave. But no one ever calls it sensory hell. I think y'all just aren't into women fr

[lovingbisexuality]

when you see a calendar do you flip to your birth month to make sure your associated image slaps or are you some sort of freak

[lovingbisexuality]

HOW DO YOUR PERCEIVE BLUE AND GREEN?

[lovingbisexuality]

"Can bi women reclaim the d word?"

Are you girls actually reclaiming slurs, or do you just want a free pass for saying slurs?

[lovingbisexuality]

Being bisexual is such an "AAAAAAAAAAAAA" experience

[lovingbisexuality]

[lovingbisexuality]

the problem with like, 3% of women being bis/lesbians is when u find one youre attracted to who likes you back it feels like the end of the world to lose them, and we act SO crazy and dumb to pursue love, even when theres no love to get