Exploring the vulnerable depths and secret mazes of ones sexuality, and then bringing it out into the light to air-dry in public domain? Yep, that sounds fucking terrifying. Cool, so let’s do that then. The most mentally terrifying things end up being the most liberating ones after exposure to the light, right?
So, how can I say this? I’m bisexual.
Okay, so that was simple. But really, the whole process through which I have gone through to come to this statement was a long, twisted one full of ridiculous amounts of repression, and little to no self-acceptance, which I still find the need to shoo away now and then.
I was 15 years old the first time I became aroused by another female. I was dating a dude, and my best friend – let’s call her Natalia, for discretions sake, was dating a dude as well. The four of us were together at this stupid mini golf place in Tampa, FL, on a double date, or whatever. We’re all sort of playing, but really just using the mini golf fountains and little castles as adventurous places to go make out with our boyfriends in/on top of. We get to the final hole and I guess Natalia and I are bored of this fake golf game, and so she blurts out a dare for our boyfriends to make out with each other. They look at each other with the whole “ew” thing going on, but then devise a contractual agreement that if Natalia and I make out, then they will as well. Of course they’re assuming that we would never do such a thing, so they’re safe.
Natalia and I look at each other. I didn’t want to be the first one to say “I’M SO DOWN!”, so I just stood there and shrugged my shoulders. She asked, “Do you want to? They’d have to if we did.” And so I replied that sure, I guess let’s do it. Hesitantly enough, Natalia and I approached each other and shared some super juicy delicious kisses for about thirty seconds until my fear of it being apparent that I was actually enjoying myself and that it wasn’t just a show surfaced and pulled me away from her. Our respective boyfriends were giggling like idiots and commentating on how hot they thought that was, while we’re standing there waiting for them to do the damn thing. So they did, and it was rather uneventful.
I just couldn’t get it out of my head how much I wanted to kiss Natalia again. Here, the repressions began.
My high school years were chock full of making out with all my best female friends after we had been drinking. These girl friends of mine were really casual about it, when we’d play with each other’s tongues in the club on the dance floor, you know, like it didn’t even stir them.
Me? I was losing my mind. I wanted to melt these ladies with my tongue, and drink them up slow over ice with a fucking twisty straw. That was perhaps one of the bigger secrets of my teenage decade.
I housed so much fear that they would find out that I was actually sexually frustrated over them, and that they’d be creeped out by me ’cause they just took it as something fun to do for attentions sake. I was ashamed. I was embarrassed. I didn’t know where to put these feelings, so I shoved them in this box: You’re A Perfectly Normal Straight Girl Who Makes Out With Her Friends While Drunk.
While Drunk. Key words, here. It wasn’t just while drunk that I had these desires to kiss my best friends. It was really all the time, but during the non-intoxicated moments I wouldn’t even allow the hint of desire to penetrate the reality.
I had never considered myself to be bisexual, because that seemed like a scary thing that lead to down right lesbianism and that being a lesbian would mean my life was ruined!!! My family would reject me. My friends would be scared of me. And I’d be judged and alone forever. (None of this is true, of course, but in the fragile mind of a girl in puberty, wrought with bullshit heteronormative conditioning, it was real real.) No, being bisexual was the last thing I would let myself be.
But still, desire seeped through my brain, through my legs, out my pores and I couldn’t deny that this, was in fact something that straight girls don’t have. My whole egoic view of myself was slipping away and a scary unknown mess was in its place.
I called Natalia.
“Natalia, have you ever thought you were bisexual?”
“Actually, yeah, every time we kiss I feel electric waves down my whole body, and I want to just pull your clothes off and run my tongue all over you. Wanna sneak into the hot tub tonight with me?”
Yeah. Right. That’s what happened. Not.
“What the fuck?! Ha, you’re joking me right? No, I’m not. Why? Are you?”
“No, no, I mean, I was just thinking about it. Like maybe it could be possible, but I’m not sure. I’m really just playing with ideas here, don’t go running away with them…I don’t know, I feel anxious thinking about all this stuff honestly. Just forget I mentioned anything.”
“Well chill out, okay? Come over, Joeys being a complete dick again and I want to show you our text conversation so you can tell me if I’m being too ridiculous in breaking up with him again.”
*Cue the parade of repressed thoughts, feelings and desires*