The Sexual Corners into which We’re Painted


I’m just sexual. My mind is what my mind is. It’s fluid, and it’s ever-changing, and it’s ever progressing in its journey of discovery.

For me, it was never about opening up a world in which I can go sleep with anyone and everyone.

It was never about increasing my odds of finding love or sex.

It was never about rebelling or refusing to conform.

For me, it was always about authenticity. It was about finally accepting myself as what I was. Which was… that I was somewhere in the middle and I didn’t know what the hell I was at all! I still don’t know what the hell I am. And I’ve learned not to care.

In fact, I’ve learned to embrace that. I’ve learned to love that.

Right now, if I was forced to label myself, I’d actually call myself straight. I prefer women. I date women. I’m sexually active in healthy ways with women. I long for real lifelong love with a woman.

But, sometimes I just want a penis. And though I never go out and get one when I do, I still want one, for that day or two that it lasts, and just as the sun always comes up again, my switch gets flipped back to women again, and I can’t for the life of me figure out what just happened.

And do you know what’s weird? I love that about me.

I love that I don’t care what you, or Jim Bob over there, or Sally Sue, or anyone else thinks about it.

I also won’t say that I’m straight. Why should I? I’m not. And strangely, neither are a lot of people. Not in the way we define people by the labels we’ve given them.

It is labels, my friends, that keep honest discussions about all this from taking place. It is labels that keep people from ever being okay with themselves and fully understanding themselves. It is labels that make people feel alone and isolated. It is labels that confuse the hell out of me and so many other people who know that declaring themselves one way or the other would leave a big part of themselves unanswered.

No, I’m not straight. I’m not gay. I’m not even bisexual. Not really.

Nobody is.

Those are just words.

They are words that we have invented to try and explain that which we don’t really understand. And that is that people are sexual. And sexuality is different for everyone. And that sexuality is fluid. It changes over the course of people’s lives.

I’m just sexual. You’re just sexual. We’re all just sexual!

Why attach a bi, or a homo, or a hetero, or a __________ in front of that?


Why not just be… I don’t know… people?

I’m really asking. I’d really love your comments on today’s post. I’d love to hear if you think that sexual labels do more harm than good, or are helpful to society. I’d also really love your thought on my thoughts about sexuality. I’d love to hear your story and your perspective.

I call myself bisexual only for other people who need to somehow understand something they can’t otherwise understand. I let the label be put onto me from time to time to push against the norms of painting ourselves into corners

I don’t ever call myself anything when I’m alone. I just am. I just love me. I just love who I have become. I just love my life. I love that I accept me as me. And I just love everyone else that makes my life better. Keep the label on me if you must. For now. Until the day that you understand it all better. Everyone else… if you can… I dare you to not think of me as anyone but a person. Nothing more. Nothing less. I dare you not to think of anyone else as anything but a person. It’s the only way we’ll be able to tip toe our ways out of these corners…

Dan Pearce, Single Dad Laughing

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Dan Pearce is an American-born author, app developer, photographer, and artist. This blog, Single Dad Laughing, is what he's most known for, with more than 2 million daily subscribers as of 2017. Pearce writes mostly humorous and introspective works, as well as his musings which span from fatherhood, to dating, to life, to the people and dynamics of society. Single Dad Laughing is much more than a blog. It's an incredible community of people just being real and awesome together!