I don’t remember if I ever came out in the traditional sense, because there was never a final discovery that needed to be shared. From day one, I always had the option to be whoever I wanted. I was raised by extremely accepting parents, and it surprises me that any adult wouldn’t want to use this parenting style, as it helped me grow into a very confident and self–accepting person. My family made a point to use words and phrases like “significant other” and “partner” instead of “boyfriend” or “girlfriend.” There was essentially no difference between loving a man or a woman, because I was lucky enough to grow up in a house where gender didn’t even play a role.
If I had to pinpoint the moment I came out, it would be when my mother, in passing, came out to me. We were going through some old photos, and we came across one with her and Carol. I’d always assumed Carol was just a friend, but that day my mother told me that they had actually been a couple for four years. I was only 13, and confused, because she was married to my dad. I knew a bit about bisexuality, but having my mother tell me about Carol really struck me in a different way; like most children, I’d always thought of my mother as straight because I had no reason to think otherwise. I was taken aback at first, but she reassured me that she loved my father very much and explained that just because she loves a man now doesn’t mean she can’t have also loved a woman. You fall in love with the person, not their gender.
At no point in this conversation was the term "bisexual" used—in fact, no labels were used at all.
It didn’t seem important to put herself in a category, and since then I’ve adopted that mindset. I don’t need to call myself bisexual; I’d rather just say that I’m attracted to human beings. Labels bother me, because sexuality is such a fluid concept. I’m afraid that if I put myself into the bisexual box and then one day realize it’s the wrong one, I’ll have lied to myself. I can’t predict what kinds of people I’ll fall in love with.
Living without labeling my sexuality has been liberating, but it does become an issue when people ask me about it directly. Human beings tend to like labels; we like to categorize and put things in boxes, because it makes us comfortable that we understand them. All the person I’m speaking to wants to know is who I’m attracted to, preferably in one word, and I can’t give that answer. There is no one word that can fully encompass the way I feel.
The only serious relationship I’ve had was with a man. He knew about my sexuality before we started dating—not because we ever had an explicit conversation about it, but simply because it’s not something I hide. We were together for nine months, and had several conversations about my sexual orientation, none of which phased him. It was just a part of me that he accepted along with the fact that I never eat the ends of my sandwiches and sleep with a dirty rag that was once my baby blanket.
This past summer, however, I had a massive crush on a coworker and good friend of mine. She had captured my interest the second I met her in the parking lot of a Trader Joe’s, and throughout the summer our friendship grew. That was the catch though; because we were such good friends, it got harder and harder to tell her how I felt, and I ended up keeping it quiet.
Most of the feelings I’ve had for other females started as friendships, and were unfortunately usually for girls I knew to be straight. The fear of freaking out a friend of mine was too intense for me to take that step, which explains my history of being primarily with men. I don’t know why it’s easier for me to confess feelings to a man, or why I get so nervous when flirting with a girl I like. I may not be completely comfortable with my sexuality yet, but I am reassured in knowing that I never have to reach a crystal clear answer.
This Valentine’s Day I’ll be with a man, but there’s no telling what kind of person I’ll be with next year, or for many years to come. I am changing and growing, and I don’t want to hinder that by labeling myself in any particular way. Boys are hot, girls are hot; people are hot. Love is love, regardless of gender.
