The Harsh & Hurtful Reality of Being Bisexual
You may remember the post Over the Edge in which I confided in you that I came very close to ending my own life because I didn’t feel like there was any place in this world for someone like me. I’d like to paste the last few paragraphs of that blog post here:
When I got home, I traipsed upstairs, through my bedroom, and into my bathroom. I grabbed both sides of the vanity and searched my own face for the better part of half an hour. I felt no emotion. No sadness. No anxiety. No anything.
Admit it, I finally whispered to the pale man looking back at me. I knew that at this point I had only two options. I had finally been pushed to that ledge.
I had to admit it.
Or die to avoid it.
I stiffened and clasped the edges of the sink with shaking force. And, staring into my own unblinking eyes, I whispered aloud the words I had been dreading since I was a child.
You’re not gay.
But you’re also not straight.
I didn’t know what that meant. But I knew it wasn’t worth dying over.
And suddenly, a warm calm spread over me, and I knew for the first time that who I was might be okay.
When I came out as bisexual, I had no idea what would happen. I had no idea if it would actually be okay.
At first, things were fantastic. They were wonderful. People got it. People were supportive.
It wasn’t until I started dating the Farmer’s Daughter that I was brought back to the harsh reality that pushed me to that edge in the first place. The reality that says, being me is going to bring a lot of pain and cruelty. The reality that says, either say you’re gay or pretend you’re completely straight and life will be better for you. The reality that says, there’s a reason few men come out as bisexuals in this world we live in.
But see, I wasn’t coming out so that I could have a community that accepted me. I wasn’t coming out so that I could get attention or clicks on my blog. No, I was coming out because I needed to be able to accept myself.
I came out because I wanted to be able to fall in love with whomever I would fall in love with, and not worry about what would happen if that happened to be a man.
And I became free to do so, but I didn’t fall in love with a man.
I fell in love with Sarah. A really beautiful woman. The Farmer’s Daughter.
And for some reason people don’t get that. And they sometimes judge me for it. And they very publicly make a big deal about it both in my private life and on Facebook.
And I will tell you that every day I thank a God whom I don’t even know if he exists that Sarah was able to see past that, and I’ll tell you that at first, it was a bit of a pill for her to swallow.
But she fell in love with me.
And for some reason people don’t get that. A lot of people don’t get that. And I don’t have to have a psychology degree to know that it hurts her sometimes.
It hurts me sometimes. And it really hurts me that it hurts her sometimes.
A few nights ago, she and I went on a weekend getaway up the canyon to a cozy little cabin. We were sitting in the hot tub, and decided to play a little game. We would get nice and tipsy on wine, and then ask each other any six questions we wanted.
She asked me if there was one thing I had to change about her, what would it be. I answered. When it was my turn, I asked her the same thing. We had pinkie promised that we would tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth.
She said, “if I’m being honest, I would only change that you’re bisexual.”
I could only look at her with pure empathy and honestly say, “I know. Me too.”
Because, you see, we are in love. And neither one of us have had such beautiful love in our lives for a long time. And neither one of us have had the chance to annoy the hell out of everyone on Facebook with our constant mushy status updates and la-la pictures in a long time. And neither one of us have been so excited about finding something so special in a long time.
And everywhere we turn there is beauty. And there is acceptance. And encouragement. And kindness. And support. And excitement. And unconditional love.
And at the same time, I almost never am able to post anything without the conversation at some point, turning into a giant debate about my sexuality, bisexuality, sexuality in general, who I am, what I am, why it matters or doesn’t matter, and etc.
And you know what? That hurts. And it’s harsh. And I don’t care if it’s reality or if I “brought it on myself” (that’s a quote from my sister, bless her heart). I don’t care if I’m in the public eye. I don’t care if I came out to all of you or not.
Love is love. Our moment is our moment. And to me, and to her, and to us… it shouldn’t be debated. Ever. If you feel a need to debate it, that should take place where we never see it and where we don’t have to wallow through it during our moment.
And the same goes for you and for me and for everyone else.
Nobody’s sexuality is anyone’s business but their own.
And yes, people come out of the closet, and they talk about their own sexuality, and we’d like to think that when they do that, it becomes our business.
But it doesn’t.
Unless a person specifically asks you for your input or your advice about their sexuality, don’t even give two thoughts to it. Don’t bring it up. Don’t discuss it. Don’t make assumptions about it.
Because it doesn’t matter.
And it never will.
If we could all remember that, we wouldn’t be building two major different communities that leave a huge percentage of the population out. We wouldn’t have a straight community and a gay community and the outlands for everyone else.
We would just have a community, and one which we all get to be a part of. One which we all could feel accepted no matter where we fall on the spectrum. One which doesn’t push people to choose one community or the other when they really don’t fall completely into either one.
I am bisexual. But I’m not a bisexual. I’m a human being. A human being who simply wants to love the person that he loves without having so many others constantly rain on his parade for doing so.
And so I ask you for your help. But first, I’d like to remind you that yes, I’m bisexual, but…
That doesn’t mean that I sleep around.
That doesn’t mean that I am confused.
That doesn’t mean that I am attracted to everyone.
That doesn’t mean that I am in transition.
That doesn’t mean that I am not faithful in my relationships.
That doesn’t mean that I will always want and miss the gender I am not with.
That doesn’t mean that I am denying my true self.
That doesn’t mean that I am into threesomes. Or orgies. Or swinging.
That doesn’t mean that I am always horny.
And, believe it or not, that doesn’t mean that I am attracted to you simply because you’re breathing and you have two legs with something in between them.
It simply means that I will fall in love with whomever I will fall in love with.
And for me, that was the Farmer’s Daughter. My Sarah.
And damn it, it sucks to even talk about this. I want to get back to annoying the crud out of you all on Facebook the way only new lovers can. I want to never bring it up again. I want to just do what Facebook has given us the ability to do… post cute things and have people thumbs up them and say, “awwwww, you two are so cute!”
So please. Share this post to start with (helping people understand is the first part of the battle), but do more than that.
Love everyone and let’s start working on creating one community instead of so many different ones. I don’t know about you, but if I’m going to be a part of a community, I want it to be lively, and zesty, and full of all sorts of different people. Not just the people who are exactly the same as me.
Gay. Straight. Bisexual. Any of the other dozens of things people can be… who gives a crap. We’re all people. We’re all neighbors. And we all just want to love and be loved by the people who flip our entire worlds upside down in the best ways possible.
Dan Pearce, Single Dad Laughing
PS. Please comment today. I’m not going to tell you what to comment on, let’s just please have an open and honest discussion about this. Please.