For years I never understood where I stood on the lovely roller coaster ride that is human sexuality. At least, I never FULLY understood.
When I was 15, I started to identify as a lesbian… yet something prevented me from going full-steam ahead with it. Instead, I decided to come out as bisexual. I thought it would be easier that way (WRONG, but I digress…).
I remember a phone call I had with my friend Lauren (who is my longest-ever friend in history right now lol) and I wanted to tell her. I wanted to finally get the thought out of my mind… to say SOMEthing to someone, but I was terrified. Funnily, I learned quite quickly that I shouldn’t have been. Her question to the statement of “Lauren, I have to tell you something” was “You’re gay?” I kinda stared at the phone for a few seconds and went on my bisexual rant and absolutely nothing changed between us.
I went on to tell a few more friends, and eventually was like “fuck it… I’m just gonna tell them the truth… I’m just a freaking lesbian.” Except for my family. Oh, that was interesting. Coming out as bisexual to your parents is strange because it’s a weird in-between, unknown thought process, and my dad actually said to me “I know I could except it if you were just a lesbian.” I was floored, and eventually told him the truth too.
I was an out-and-proud, gay as could be, lesbian. The freshman on our choir bus would talk about me in hushed tones. But I didn’t care… I was a senior in high school and I was happy. Hadn’t yet actually had a girlfriend, but I figured I could wait for college for that. No one in my grade ever made fun of me for it. I was never victimized. If someone were to ever say something I’d just kinda look at them and shake my head.
It stayed this way for 3 more years (including me rushing into relationships just to be loved and then being cruel and dumping them after a week… I was a mess). It was during the end of this time I met my first ever girlfriend. We don’t speak of her name here, but I’m finally glad I have a friend with her name to replace it with in my head (and my phone) lol. I was clumsy. I didn’t know hell all what to do in a sexual manner and I freaked out more than was probably necessary in the first few months. I didn’t even WANT to think about having sex, really. I wanted to get to know her, but she wanted more physical things, so she got more physical things. Who was I to complain when I had a beautiful girl who wanted to do things with me?
She met my family. We went to Philly pride together for the first time. We decided on getting an apartment our senior year because we had some issues with some people we lived with Junior year. And she dumped me the first week we arrived at our new apartment. Yes, you read that right, I had to live with her all year and NOT be with her. Devastation wasn’t a strong enough word for it. But the whole issue with her is a long story and I don’t have the time to sort through her issues.
Then I entered a crisis mode over winter break. Full-out “my identity is a lie” crisis mode. The reason? I saw a guy who I thought was cute. I was having a reverse coming-out upheaval in my life and I felt SO lost. And I wasn’t with the people I KNEW. It was between breaks senior year of college. Then, of course, I started to remember back to some things in my senior year of high school that I had written about in the ever-famous “best friends notebook” between my bff Brianna and I. There were thinly veiled “I’m attracted to this boy” statements right there for all to see.
My world was upside down. But I had to stabilize it or I was going to be an absolute mess. So I settled into my new “role” as bisexual. And the thing is, I didn’t want to have sex with the boy… I just thought he was cute. And, tbh, other than my first gf, I never had that urge with anyone I liked. It took a backseat to knowing someone on a deeper level. Of course, that flopped after college and my life has been one weird thing after another.
As it says in my bio, I suffer from Schizoaffective Disorder, Bipolar type. I deal with mostly the bipolar issues, but I do have some traits of schizophrenia. The problem is (and why it’s relevant) is because, un-medicated, I was mostly suffering from hypo-manic, manic, or mixed episodes for QUITE a few years after college. And what any type of mania does for me is ramp up a sex drive I didn’t have when I was in a normal or depressed state. Let’s just say I made up for all those years of not being interested in sex at all, and leave it at that.
Then I calmed down, was put on medication again, and I was already in a romantic and sexual relationship when I finally got my head on straight. With a guy. And I KNEW him and CARED about him, and sex wasn’t an issue. We had it. I wanted it. It was like a marriage of two states of mind. We broke it off, of course. And the meds didn’t exactly CURE me of episodes of hypomania I had, so I sometimes fell off my rocker. Then I started a casual friends with benefits thing with my one roommate.
We hadn’t known or been friends for that long. I mean, we’d known of each other for two years, and the 6-8 months before we got an apartment together we became extremely close. We ALWAYS talked about things together. We had in-depth conversations. He had psych issues too, so we talked about that. I knew him on a deep level. So when the topic of sex came up, I wasn’t flying high on mania or hypo-mania, I was quite grounded and because I knew him so well and TRUSTED him, we started our little tryst. it lasted for about 5-6 months I believe, and that’s because we decided at the beginning that if either or us started having feelings for the other we needed to stop. I had been having feelings for him for about a month at least, so I had to tell him and we broke it off. And absolutely NOTHING changed between us.
But it gave me a reputation, somehow… especially considering that I got bombed almost every weekend. I was utterly confused, though, how my life got to be how it is today.
In 2012, me and my two roommates split up. I moved in with my mom to help pay bills (and save up for a deposit on a rental). Of course, nothing works out the way it should and I landed myself in a psych hospital for the first time ever. And I thought NOTHING of sex. Absolutely nothing. I’d meet people and sometimes be attracted to them on a surface level, but nothing but that came to mind. In fact, the last time I had had sex was New Years Eve 2011-2012. And I only did that because I wanted to FEEL something (and because I knew him). I didn’t.
Now I have this weird system my brain sets up that if I find a person attractive (mostly celebrities lol), I go through an initial phase of physical attraction and then it goes dormant and I don’t think about sex with that person ever again. But I love them dearly. And, of course, I’m starting to like girls again WAY more than guys. I think my closet door has so many holes and scrapes and a broken lock. I yearn for the simple days of high school when I knew what I wanted. Before the mess that was my life came crashing down on me when I was 22. I find celebrity men attractive, but there’s nothing there. I have found celebrity women attracted, and there’s always been something there. And as far as random people go… they’re all women. So my head’s a little cockeyed and my “distaste” for sex unless I know a person well hangs around too.
Officially, one would call me a bi-romantic demisexual. But to me I’m just a person who likes other people, no matter what they identify as or what label they have plastered on their heads. And I want to know someone on a deeper level before anything happens. In fact, it’s pretty necessary.
I won’t keep you any longer. I’m still sorting out my closet and trying to mend the broken parts.