I’ve talked to a few lesbians and bisexual women recently. And I’ve asked when they first discovered they liked girls. It seems the average age for noticing was around 6 or 7.
It took me 46 years to put my puzzle pieces together, and come to the conclusion that the feelings I had meant that I was bisexual. I have a very vague memory of being around 5, and seeing a porn magazine. I remember that I liked looking at the pictures. I didn’t know what it meant, but the pictures intrigued me.
I was playing house with the girl next door when I was 7. We kissed, and I liked it. I didn’t know that wasn’t normal. When I was 8, the boy across the street (he was also eight) asked me if I wanted to have sex. I said no. I had no interest in experimenting with him. At 8, I knew that sex was wrong, but the kiss I shared with a girl seemed like no big deal to me.
I never thought about it at all. I didn’t think too much of the signs I had at all. I had a crush on my female teacher when I was 9. I had a major crush on my high school French teacher. But back then, I told myself that I just wanted to be like her.
For such sheltered girl, I saw an awful lot of porn when I was kid. When I was 9, my sister worked at a convenience store. I remember sneaking behind the counter to look at the magazines. I knew that looking at porn was “wrong” but I never once thought that I shouldn’t be looking at it because it was females.
There are times that I regret that it took me so long to accept myself for what I am, but I honestly wasn’t ready for it sooner. It took several, separate events to get me to the place where I was able to accept it.
My life would have been so different if I had acknowledged, and accepted being bi when I was younger. I probably wouldn’t have met my husband. And knowing my personality, I probably would have committed suicide. But I couldn’t do it then. My oldest brother was so homophobic. I was heavily into church then too.
I came out early this year. I’ve had alot of support, but I’ve lost several people I thought were friends. I’ve only had one relative tell me they still love me no matter what. I can’t tell my mother. She’s old, and there is no chance of me being in a relationship with a woman.
I have had support, but I also had people who said it was a phase, that I wasn’t bi, that I couldn’t be bi unless I’d had sex with a woman. How does someone else presume to tell me what I am?
I didn’t decide one day that I’m going to say I’m bisexual to get attention. I’m not being boastful when I mention it. I never chose to be bi. It has always been a part of my life, I just managed to bury it so deeply, that I hid it even from myself.
If it was a choice, I wouldn’t chose it. I wouldn’t chose to feel like a freak or different. I wouldn’t choose to want something that I can’t have. I wouldn’t choose to be attracted to women, and alienate my husband.
I accept that it’s there, and I accept that I am attracted to women. I don’t like it. It’s actually difficult when you have so much that arouses you. It’s difficult getting turned on, and knowing you can’t experience that at all.
It’s difficult when you have people telling you to find a woman, and experiment. I want to, but I can’t. I have a husband, and I took my marriage vows seriously. And even ignoring the fact that I’m married, I wouldn’t have the first clue how to go about finding a willing woman. I know I can arouse men, but I really don’t know how to approach a woman.
Anyway, I’m bi. It wasn’t a choice. It’s a part of me. It’s lost friends because of it. I can’t deal with family members because of it. I’m not fighting it, there is no point in that. But I can’t embrace it either. I can’t explore what it means to be bi. It’s frustrating.
I’ve probably said all this before. I just felt the need to say something again. October 11th was Coming Out Day. I came out months ago, but sometimes I wish I was still ignorant. I wish I didn’t know. I wish I couldn’t acknowledge the attraction.
Yes, there is freedom in not hiding. There is freedom in being who I am without any apologies. But there is also the added burden of wanting something so strongly, and not being able to indulge in it. There is the added burden in the fact that because I want a woman, it makes my husband feel like he isn’t enough.
They say you can’t please everyone, so you might as well please yourself. I wish it was that easy, but it is far from it. I could be selfish and do that, but then, I would be hurting the one person I love so much.
Sometimes I wonder why God did this to me. I’m thankful I never had the turmoil of feeling like I was going to hell for being bi. I know this was the way I was made, so it had to be God’s design. But why me? Why did I have to be different? Is there is purpose for it? Did I just hit the gay/bi lottery for July 1st of that year?
Oh yeah, being bi has made me realize I can love a woman as easily as I love a man. And I do love one. Thankfully, I am not in love with her. I don’t think my heart can take any more of that. In a way, that’s kind of awesome. It’s nice to know that I don’t have a problem with it, and that it’s natural. And it’s nice to know that she loves me back, even if it’s just as a friend. I can handle that.
It’s late, and I have no idea why I even started this post. I’m bisexual. Saying it doesn’t lessen the effect it has on me. I’m still kind of shocked when I notice things now that I never thought applied to me before. I’m horrified that being bisexual could get me killed in some places. I’m horrified about how some families treat their own family members.
Some people learn their sexual identities when they’re young. Some people are lucky enough to be straight, and never have to question anything. I’ve always been bi, I just couldn’t see it. I hid behind the heterosexual feelings I had for men. I had my husband in my life for almost 22 years. I didn’t know I was bisexual. I don’t know why I am, maybe God has some reason for it to be. Life is weird. If I’ve learned anything in the past 18 months, I’ve learned that fact.
I am not normal. I’m not straight. I am different. I am unique. Maybe there is a reason for that, maybe not. I just have to be me, though. I can’t change to please anyone else. I wish I didn’t feel the things I do, but the feelings are there. In the words of Doris Day, Que sera, sera. Whatever will be, will be.