As I write this, pronouns day has just passed, and coming out day, so I’ve seen a lot of posts by my LGBTQ+ friends over the past week. And while I took the time to express my pronouns in solidary with my trans and NB friends on my personal Facebook yesterday, I didn’t say anything on coming out day.
I could have, though. I could have let everyone know in no uncertain terms that I am bisexual. After all, it’s something I’ve been pondering a lot for the year and some change as I really, finally, become comfortable with my sexual orientation, and I’ve mentioned it plenty on my socials here. It’s not like I haven’t said anything alluding to my attraction including women to those people in my life and on my friend’s lists. I’ve shared photos, used words pregnant with meaning, frame my profile picture in bisexual lighting, mentioned that I have a sex blog, and even periodically share posts from this blog to my vanilla Facebook; although, it’s usually about science or a piece about how SESTA/FOSTA endangers call girls despite its supposed intent to help people rather than something about me personally.
But in 2019, I’m a little less open about my sexuality. I once openly listed myself as bisexual on Myspace many years ago, a fact than sent my former mother-in-law into a tizzy. But I no longer do. That fact, just like my phone number, is set so no one else can see it on Facebook. The reasons are myriad, complex, and not always things of which I am proud.
There are other elements at play, too. The thrill of secrecy, of doing things taboo, has always elevated sex for me. I know it shouldn’t be a competition, but having attractions and kinks that are outside the norm made me feel special. Being attracted to women fulfilled that, in some way, for me.
When I was a teenager and first realized my attraction to women, it centered around specific women. I wasn’t worried about my inexperience because I was married not too far after, and while I felt generally more attracted to women during my marriage, I was attracted to my husband most of all, so it didn’t really matter.
In some ways, it was nice to hide behind that facade of straight privilege, and because I expected my marriage to last forever (ha!), it meant that I would never have to come out and would have to avoid any potential negatives that doing so would lead so. I type this now, and it just makes me feel awful. There are people who cannot hide behind that privilege, and it’s entirely unfair to do so myself.
For a while after my divorce, it seemed a non-issue. I began dating and sleeping with people who just happened to be men. In hindsight, my bisexuality probably just took a bit of a hetero swing now that I was able to experiment in ways that I hadn’t been able to when I was married. But part of me wondered if any attraction to women was just something of a phase, and my inexperience seemed to loom largely overhead as if in affirmation of this.
This lasted for several years and during that time, I dated, slept with, and fell for multiple men. It’s been a few years that I haven’t been particularly interested in any individual, which makes it the longest stretch of my life that I haven’t been in love. In short, I’ve almost always found myself in love for my entire adult life, even if that love was unrequited. It’s been an interesting change, and one that I think provided me the opportunity to consider my sexuality when it wasn’t attached to a specific person.
Over the last couple of years, my attraction to women has resurfaced and, at times, seemed to dominate. Occasionally, I would simply find myself so undeniably attracted to specific women — Gillian Anderson in the Fall, Carmen Esposito in her standup, women in bars. And sometimes I’d find myself with that self-conscious but giddy smile that I have when I find myself really attracted to people.
Thanks in part to my involvement in this community, a community that is diverse and sex-positive, I’ve come to appreciate that a person’s sexuality doesn’t have to be equal or even constant to “count” for a label such as bisexuality. Making room for this flexibility enables me to better understand and accept myself. Yet this community seems populated with people who are so much more sure about their identities and with so much more experience than I have. Comparison and imposter symptom seem to be magnetically attracted.
Even as I was becoming more comfortable with my attraction, I found myself distanced from the queer community. It still felt like a group of which I was not apart. I still felt as though there was a group of people who were “them.” And not in a bad way. In fact, I wanted to feel more like I was part of this group than I did. So many people have formative memories of their sexuality, but it was never like that for me. I simply realized I was open to more than just men.
As it turns out, it can be difficult to feel queer enough when you’re bisexual because heteronormative culture still applies. It’s just that queer culture also applies. I often feel that it would be easier for me to feel part of the queer community if I could reject the entire heteronormative narrative, but some of it still applies. Even though I’ve rejected gender roles and sexual scripts and a bunch of other rubbish that goes along with straight culture, I’m still attracted to men.
I’ve heard jokes about bisexual culture but nothing that rings true or stands out to me. Some days I don’t feel so much like I fall under the queer umbrella as much as I feel like hetero… plus. And it’s so incredibly difficult to shed the filter and thoughts that have been ingrained in me by society, especially because I find women generally more attractive even if I am not sexually attracted to them. I almost have to remind myself that I like women, too, and I am attracted to very few men, to begin with. I don’t need to be equally attracted to men and women or even experience attraction to them in the same way. There has been so much self-doubt when it comes to claiming a label and joining a community because of this.
But even as I became comfortable with accepting that there’s no right way (TM) to be bi and that may “their” community is my community and there can be safety and support in that, it’s still not something that I necessarily want to come out about and not necessarily because of the subject. Coming out in any way simply seems too confrontational, and while it might seem otherwise, I have always shied away from confrontation. I only like to be in the limelight in limited circumstances. Directing attention to myself in that way makes me uncomfortable.
So, I don’t directly remind people of something they may already know, may have forgotten, may not care about, anyway. Instead, it feels easier to leave bread crumbs in the way of the things I say, the links I share, and the communities and causes I associated wit and to allow people to assume. There may come a time that I have to be more explicit, but part of me hopes that people will just take the hint and accept about me what I’ve taken nearly two decades to accept myself.
And maybe one day I will want to shout it from the rooftops.
