Why I never officially came out as bisexual, until now

It was a Thursday. Classes had just started back up, and I had promised myself I would actually go to every single one this semester. My third class of the day was in 15 minutes. Lucy* asked me if I would come be her support at her OBGYN appointment, and I said yes, of course I would. The hard sun came down on us as we walked, unseasonably warm for January. I moved my hand up to shade my eyes and looked over at her. She was nervous.

“Hey, did I ever tell you I’m bisexual?” I said offhand, as though I didn’t know that of course I hadn’t mentioned it. She didn’t blink. She told me, charmingly unfazed, that no, I hadn’t. Maybe my efforts to distract her just hadn’t worked, or she really didn’t care. We talked about how people probably never really know for sure anyway. I wondered for a second if she’d ever thought of me like that.

That short conversation I had with Lucy five months ago was probably the first time I felt comfortable saying the words “I’m Bisexual” out loud. It was also the first time I realized how empowering it felt to tell someone as if I were simply acknowledging the weather. Small talk. After the year – or 22 years, depending on your perspective – I’d had, treating *the struggle* like small talk felt like taking ownership.

OK, I hear you. This article is pretty much the opposite of small talking my sexuality. Maybe I wanted a little shock value too, OK? I can already see your message ellipses, friends. How could you not tell me sooner, Rachael? Ah, well…

I’ve always been a bit of an attention whore. Honestly. At least, I’ve always thought of myself as an attention whore, because why else would I kiss girls at parties in front of boys or drink half a bottle of liquor in a matter of minutes? Why else would I cheat on every single boyfriend I ever had? There’s always been words for people like me. Whore. Attention seeker. Compulsive liar. An easier explanation for at least some of those behaviors never really crossed my mind until last November, when I cheated on my current boyfriend with a woman.

This is quite a lot to share with you, you judgey, rude, wonderful strangers. Please go easy on me.

When I got sober in December, I really thought it meant everything would immediately get better. How silly of me. Perhaps another story for another day, but realizing that I was bisexual and not just a fun, flirty girl looking for a good time and a bit of attention took more than just saying it out loud: it took crying, yelling, almost losing people I loved. It took me realizing that the feeling of not belonging I usually got around Christmas time was actually just my true self trying to escape. I hadn’t known she was in there.

I won’t blame the rest of the world for all of this, but I will say: have you ever noticed how much harder it is for us bisexuals to get some real support around here? I’m not saying my other LGTQIA people don’t have it hard or harder. But I can’t deny that this idea that women who are bisexual are just going through the “experimenting” phase that you always hear about in movies – the idea that men are really just gay and can’t possibly be both – is seriously damaging.

Why do we tell ourselves that liking all kinds of humans is this outlandish thing, especially in our current social world? Is it really so crazy to think that some of us just love whomever we consider worth loving, that we can be intimate with any kind of human? I believed the noise for 21 quiet miserable years. I pulled and pushed myself, denied myself peace, lived in constant agony that I would actually have to admit that – for shame – I might have an abnormal life.

“But Rachael, you’re currently in love with a man, so what does it matter?”

Can I just be the first person to say, hypothetical person, that you’re dumb? Just because you’re currently on a diet, would you say you NEVER eat pizza? Weird comparison. When you’re not at church, do you still call yourself a Christian? Perhaps a slightly better example. This is, quite simply, who I am, and I’m happy now to share it with you. I’d even say I’m proud to share it with you.

Once, at an AA meeting, a woman said, “when you’re feeling particularly unworthy, the worst thing you can do is compare yourself to others. But when you need perspective, consider comparing yourself to yourself.”

That stuck with me.

A year ago, I wasn’t really me. Now, I am really me. I like me. I’m still a total mess, but at least I’m an honest mess. So hell yeah, I’m bisexual. We can talk about it whenever you’d like. As long as afterward, we go back to talking about how bright the sun is for the middle of January.

I’ve gotta say, talking about my sexuality like this feels pretty damn great. I guess, yeah, it counts as a big coming out. But when was the last time you were given a platform to just say exactly – I mean exactly – what you felt, no pauses, no crying, just words. Shit’s lit. I feel empowered as fuck. I’m telling you all of this like I would tell you my favorite color, or about my day at the park, because it took me a long time to get here, and to be honest, my dear reader friends, I don’t really fucking care what you think about it.

*Name was changed to protect identity

@TheTab