What’s Your Bisexual Dating Agenda?

How do I even answer this question and what does this mean?

Photo by courtney coles on Unsplash

I step into the bar that has glorious shelves upon shelves of diverse whiskey. It’s that dive bar that has a slight elevation to it but swings sets on the outside for adults to get wasted and swing themselves until they’re sick. There is a thirty-minute show across the street, and the bar already has a line to access a bartender.

I stand patiently behind a couple sitting on the high chair bar stools. I hold my left arm like a cradle to reduce my space. I’ve been going through this as an anxious trait since I was a kid. I’ve always felt like I’m too much space, even as a little kid.

The couple orders and I stand off to the side, not smushed inside the small keyhole between the bar stools to access the bartenders.

The couple looks at me and ushers me into the small keyhole space. I preemptively apologize because I feel like I brushed the man with the outside arm even though I’m keeping my body outside the wooden bar counter as my chest leans in to tell my order.

“I’ll have a Jessica Rabbit, please.”

The bartender is quick, efficient, and has the sudden movement of a worker bee in a hive. I feel bad imposing my body into an apparent date space and choosing the…