As I entered my 30s, it became more apparent that both my romantic and sexual attractions weren’t limited to just men. Still, it wasn’t until COVID that I fully realized my bisexuality.
TikTok knew I was gay before I did. I had it on my phone for a while but didn’t engage with it much until Trump started threatening to ban it. Then, I began using it daily as my own little form of protest.
Very quickly, my fyp was nothing but masc lesbian thirst traps and femme-presenting queer girls talking about all reasons it took them so long to realize they liked women; each clip punctuated with hashtags like #latebloominglesbian, #lateinlifelesbian, and #comphet. I was introduced to the Lesbian Masterdoc.
And suddenly, it all clicked.
Growing up in the church, I was sheltered and taught very black-and-white principles. I’ve always been a girly girl. I was a cheerleader. They used to call me boy-crazy. I love pink and glitter, dresses and makeup. So, I must be straight, right?
Christianity taught me there was no room for outliers on the bell curve of sexuality; either you were right (straight), or you were wrong (gay). My squishy little brain said, “Okay…well, I obviously like boys, so I guess that’s that.”
Turns out, I’m just attracted to masculinity. I’m naturally a very passive personality, so I gravitate toward humans who exude a commanding, protective energy over those with a more unassuming, nurturing vibe. That includes cis men and women as well as trans guys and nonbinary or intersex people.
Contrary to popular belief, the BI in bisexual doesn’t mean two, and it doesn’t reinforce the gender binary.
It simply means more than one.
Looking back, I see so many queer things about my youth that my community passed off as they instilled heteronormativity into me. I was always a black sheep, feeling like I didn’t quite fit precisely into the boxes my peers seemed to.
A few years ago, I started using queer-focused dating apps and switched my settings on the mainstream apps to include all genders, even though I didn’t publicly come out until recently.
I didn’t put off coming out for fear of judgment or shame. I’ve surrounded myself with a tight circle of people I trust and know have similar values. It was more of an internal struggle with the fact that I haven’t had a relationship with anyone who wasn’t a cis male, so it felt inauthentic of me to claim a queer space.
But then I realized…I knew I liked boys all those years ago when I was in the church, long before I had ever even kissed a boy. How is knowing I’m into girls any different?
And for the record…I’ve kissed lots of girls.
When I finally did officially come out, I did it on a whim. It was Wednesday, October 11th, and I was scrolling through Instagram when I saw GLAAD had posted that it was National Coming Out Day. Without really giving it a second thought, I hit share and captioned it, “In case you haven’t picked up on my hairpin drops over the last several years…I’m Bi.”
Only to fall in love with a man exactly 12 weeks later.
In November, I went to one of the nation’s few surviving Lesbian Bars. And the next day, a psychic told me my soulmate is a man.
I ignored her direction for a while (kicking myself for that now), hoping I’d find a Uhaul lesbian before the Holidays, but on Wednesday, January 3rd, I gave in and started swiping on guys again.
His opening line was a little weak (his words, not mine), but I understand that this is a numbers game, and if you’re actively trying to date, sometimes you just have to toss out the net and see what happens. Under the what are your intentions type of prompt, he had written, “I’m looking for my forever home.”
And he was obviously good-looking, so I matched.
Let me tell you. He made the exact joke for me within the first 5-10 messages, and I was hooked. It was grammar-based with a tasteful amount of sexual innuendo.
He entered my life so unexpectedly and abruptly. I instantly fell in love with him for the way his mind works. He challenges me to see things from new perspectives and question my biases. He saw my scars, recognized my barriers, unpacked my fears, and accepted me for everything I am. He embraced every facet of my identity without judgment. He recognized my distrust of men and patiently helped me untangle the complexities of my past until I was sure he was one of the good ones.
I’ve been hearing about them all my life, but he’s the first one I think I’ve ever actually met. Our relationship transcends heteronormative gender roles and outdated cultural norms. It’s a testament to the fluidity of sexual attraction and the power of mental connections.
I did not want to fall in love with a man, so there’s your evidence that sexuality is not a choice. But I’ve never been happier to be wrong in my life. Being with a man doesn’t make me any less queer. I’ve just decided who I want to be with, and he happens to be a man.
If you suddenly choose to eat vegetables exclusively, you wouldn’t immediately stop liking meat; you’ve just made a decision to do what you think is best for you.
And he’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me.
Love is love…even if it is with a MAN.
@DatingtrApps 