The Conflicted Bisexual: I'm coming Out.
Updated: Aug 21, 2020
I recently came out as bisexual.
While that may not seem like a big deal to my readers since I talk so openly about my same sex adventures, it's huge to me: It's the first time in my life I've labeled my sexuality.
We hear it a lot: "I don't need labels", "I do what I feel", etc- and while that is totally valid, and I've defined myself as hete-roflexible for a very long time, it just didn't feel right.
In foregoing a label, I found that I was cheating myself of a few things. I was cheating myself of authentic attraction, community, and opportunities: you see, the way we identify ourselves plays strongly into our whole lives.
I knew from a very young age that I wasn't completely straight. This boiled down to some very accurate scientific reactions in my opinion: genital stimulation.
I remember being incredibly young, perhaps 5 or 6, and watching my sisters play with Bratz dolls. They had gone upstairs to grab something, and out of impulse I grabbed two female Bratz dolls and made them kiss.
In doing this, I still recall the very intense, electric tingle I felt to the clit. On a second occasion, I recall visiting my neighbors home at the age of 8 for a house party. He was a young, gay man- and to my surprise, his entire house was outlined with erotic gay art.
Gay couples having sex on the beach, in bedroom, in a bathroom, the whole package- and I was turned on by all of it. From then on it was clear, wow, I'm definitely a little gay, and this feeling is fantastic.
Growing Up Bisexual
Soon enough when I got access to porn, you guessed it, I was a huge fan (and still am) of lesbian porn.
In fact, I enjoy most all porn: straight, gay, lesbian, trans, orgy, whatever- I love it. I love seeing humans connect and enjoy pleasure.
Growing up in a very sexually open and accepting household, I never felt any shame around my same-sex tendencies. It felt like something I was very safe to explore, and my parents always spoke very positively about the LGBT community.
Luckily, this saved me a shitload of trauma that could have potentially ensued. Thank you, mom and dad.
Going into my pre-teens and teen years, same sex interaction was definitely something I wished to explore. Back then when everything was so new, honestly the thought of just kissing a girl seemed pretty magnificent to me- and I totally did.
My best friends and I were definitely the adventurous ones, teasing the boys we liked by making out in front of them. It was all in great fun, and I also enjoyed it a ton- it really solidified and grounded my security in wanting more sexual experiences with women.
As I got older, I finally had my few and far between sexual experiences with women. It felt so natural, safe, and delightful. Aside from group play, the most profound of my experiences were having sex with women 1:1, and truly connecting with them.
While group play or threesomes can definitely imply you're bisexual, many women do it with their partners as a performative or flexible act: I'm legit, all the way down for the women. In fact, there's been a few group situations where I give too much attention to the other woman.
If I'm all the way down and interested in women/ differing genders, why did I struggle for so long to identify as bisexual?
I mean, I see now how detrimental the label hetero-flexible was for me. It implied that at some points I swung the other way, or almost made it seem like my same sex interactions were performative- which they are most certainly not.
After heavy introspection and analysis, my lack of label really came down to shame. Specifically, the shame of feeling I have not earned my Bisexual label.
I Felt Intense Shame In Identifying.
Coming out is a big deal- for a grand majority of the population, coming out as LGBTQIA+ means it will have an effect on you, your family, friends, and work relationships, and completely change certain dynamics.
None of this was true for me, and that gives me intense shame.
Me coming out does not change any aspect of my life- everything is the same. My family supports me, my friends support me, I have job security whether I work for myself or others, and I don't face discrimination due to my sexuality.
I often describe this as "not earning my place" or feeling a little bit like a sham. People ask when I came