A Slice of American Bi
. I’ve always been aware of my bisexuality. Before I knew anything about sexual fluidity or a binary orientation system or the Kinsey scale, I knew that I was attracted to girls and boys.
I don’t recall a moment of sexual self-discovery. Never did I “come out” to anyone. I didn’t struggle to accept myself as queer. My sexuality was just a truth of my life. It was as real and natural as the color of my skin, my shoe size, or pronunciation of my name. Being a “bi” girl was not something I ever struggled to embrace.
In The Beginning…
As I approached dating age and began to embark on quasi-romantic endeavors with my peers, boys seemed more readily available for me to exercise my interest with. I could easily discuss my boy crushes with my friends. The affectations I had towards my male counterparts were quickly detected, accepted and in some cases even reciprocated.
Whenever I heard through the grade school grapevine that someone “liked me,” it was always a boy. As far as anyone could tell, I was a regular, boy-crazy, heterosexual little girl. I satisfied my interest in girls through the intimate relationships I had with my girlfriends. We talked about everything, connected on a deep level, and explored our sexuality with each other. Unbeknownst to them, each of my friends was an object of sexual desire to me. A desire that was to some degree satisfied on a daily basis.
As An Adult…
My bisexuality has finally become a part of my life that gives me pause. I am sure of its presence in my psyche. I’ve daydreamed about falling in love with ladies I’ve known, and have partaken in lesbian porn almost exclusively as an adult. I’ve been on a few online dates with women and have had friendships that seemed like something more…But despite my desire, I have only ever been in committed relationships with men. It seems that my window of bi opportunity is closing.
Now, in the midst of a serious relationship with yet another man, I ask myself, what is it about my bisexuality that renders it perpetually budding and never bloomed? How can I have been so sure of my sexual identity from such an early age and never fully realized it in my life? Have I fooled myself into believing I was bisexual when I’m actually as straight as a stick bug?
For the Longest Time…
I blamed other women. Against all reason, I purported that lesbians just didn’t like bisexuals, and even that bisexuals didn’t like other bisexuals. I convinced myself there was some secret section of the city— any city, where all the lady-lovin’ lasses convened, set dates and started relationships. The Sapphic system was set up to keep me stuck in a heterosexual cycle and completely exclude me from infiltrating their super secret society. Ridiculous right?
I’ve spent hours of introspection and months of musing over my many missed mintle moments. Finally, I’ve reached a conclusion. But it isn’t much of a conclusion at all. Identity and experience are not one in the same. Desire and incident do not always come hand in hand. People don’t always reach their every potential. Human beings everywhere walk around brimming with untapped aptitude in countless aspects of life.
I’m not a believer in fate. I can’t with a clear conscience say that this is how things were “meant to be.” I firmly believe that I could have fulfilled my homoerotic hunger, ended up with a woman and that it might have made me happier than I can conceive. But I am a believer in acceptance and gratitude. For whatever reason, this is not the path I’ve paved thus far, and though I can’t predict what partnerships lie ahead, I can take my understanding of the situation and use it to grow. I can take my bisexuality and morph it from a point of confusion to pier of empowerment— for whatever it is or isn’t.
Laurie Magers is a comedy writer and actor living in Los Angeles. Her favorite color is red and her favorite food is crab legs. Check out more from her at www.lauriemagers.com.