Hey guys! My name is Jacobi Rhinsembalm and I’m a Pitzer sophomore. I like anything outdoors, Frank Ocean, and pondering whether I’m gay or not. Or bi. Or anything that isn’t straight. I don’t talk to any of my friends about this though. They wouldn’t understand the mental struggle of biceps or no biceps.
When I stand in front of my dresser in the morning, I make a monumentally important decision. Black sweatpants and graphic white tee, or washed-out jorts and a tight-fitting turquoise women’s top? Even I don’t know what I’ll pick.
When you’re “bisexual” life is like a random gender generator. Whichever way I swing is in God’s hands. Speaking of hands, I make sure to only paint the nails on my left. Purple, a nice light shade that allows my straight friends to convince themselves I’m not a freak but also shows the queers (Pitzer’s ruling class) that I could possibly be on their side.
There’s a beast inside of me. She’s pink and bubbly. She’s a tiger, but cute and gentle and playful. Do I let the tiger out, or keep her caged deep within my heart? I can feel the kicking, the struggle. Can I hold her in any longer?
I’m terrified that one of these days I’m going to spontaneously burst into a high-pitched nasal YASSSS and surprise/disgust everyone around me and myself. Because that is cringe, and gay, and I’m not cringe, and I’m not gay, right?
… Right?