On Slowly Coming Out as Bisexual

When I look back on the journey to figuring out that I was bisexual, I see lots of women, but not really in the good way. I see wanting to talk openly about my experimentation only to be told I was doing it for attention, or being lead to believe that I could never truly enjoy sex with women because performing oral on one still frightens me.

For the record, I hate performing it on men as well, but that’s not the point.

The point is, I blindly believed what gays and straights alike told me about my own sexuality because clearly they knew more than I did. I was just synapses and moments in the dark. I was quietly the girl that found herself more turned on by breasts than washboard abs. I was the woman sitting in my dad’s truck trying to explain to my him why the government agency he works for had to be borderline ostentatious about showing it’s support for for LGBT rights. I had to sit there with my thoughts while he told me it was gross and unnecessary, all the while not being sure why i took it as a personal insult.

I loved men, I dated men, and I enjoyed sex with men. As far as I was concerned, I was straight enough to call myself straight. I knew that wasn’t right though. With sexuality being so fluid in many cases though, where was the line? Where does masturbating to lesbian porn become bisexuality? When did the idea that there could be ONE woman out there for me, turn into the notion that maybe there are just as many right women out there for me as men, maybe even more.

When I met one of those women.

I wrestled with it for weeks. I won’t let you know who she is, or the likelihood of us ever happening is. If I had to take a guess. I still hope she doesn’t know.

I do know that on one such evening, we split a bottle of wine at our favorite haunt, and I texted my best friend to tell her I was in love with a girl. I told her I wanted to get gay married with a virtual stranger, and buy vacation property in Maine.

When asked if she was beautiful, I said that of course she was, but that didn’t matter. I wanted to kiss her more than I wanted to fuck her. Above all else, I wanted to hold her hand, out in public, with all my homophobic uncles and the conservative politicians they voted into office watching.

When I finally found a woman that I could love with the same strength as I have with a man, I realized I really was bisexual. The notion still scares me, but I feel honest. I feel less of a stranger to myself.

Most importantly, I feel okay.

So I’m a bisexual woman. If I date a man, I will always be attracted to women as well, and vice versa. I recognize that in certain situations, it’s all about the parts, and in others, it’s less to do with the parts and more about the person. I know that I have the capacity to love in all the ways I am supposed to.

It’s a feeling that out does the fear.


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