This has been some week! Huge thanks to all of my guests. I don’t have the words for how amazing it’s been to read your stories and share them with everyone. I’m lucky to know so many bodacious bisexuals.
Now it’s my turn to share a little. When i thought about what to say it seemed like a good idea to end the week on a lighthearted note. Those of you who know me well or have read my stories know better than to expect unicorns and puppies (okay, maybe unicorns, once in a while)–but it’s hardly fair to keep quiet after all the honest sharing i’ve hosted this week. So, here goes nothin’!
The first time I used the word bisexual to describe myself, out loud, so another person could hear it, was in 1982. It was pretty freaky for me, but my ex wasn’t surprised. He’d already noticed when I tracked the gorgeous girls as they walked by and he thought it was cool. He told all his friends what a cool ol’ lady he had because I didn’t mind him looking at other women; he even told a couple of them that I looked right along with him.
The first word out of his mouth wasn’t “threesome?”, so I let him live.
Since then, I’ve had relationships with both men and women, and at one point my ex and I invited another woman to live with us. For a while it was an amazing experience—she was Native American (affiliation withheld to protect, well, everyone—I like my plausible deniability, thanks very much ;)) and we even discussed having a ceremony to celebrate our commitment to each other. But, as relationships often do, it slowly fell apart and she moved away.
It’s not up to me to speak for all bisexuals, and I’m not trying to reinforce a negative stereotype, but I went through a time in my life when I was very greedy (or maybe just needy). I didn’t get a lot of affection in my family of origin so I found it elsewhere; sometimes I got it from men and sometimes from women and sometimes from one of each at the same time. And sometimes it had nothing at all to do with sex and everything to do with friendship and love and the amazing feeling of being accepted for who I was at that moment. But sometimes it was about the sex. And that’s okay too. There’s nothing wrong with enjoying a healthy sex life. I never cheated on anyone, so I have nothing to be ashamed of.
One of the worst parts of biphobia is the shaming that comes at us from all sides. When I was monogamous in my (outwardly) heterosexual marriage, I was fine; when we expanded our relationship to include another woman, not so much. Most of my straight friends were intentionally and stubbornly blind to the fact that she was not just a friend or a roommate, and I didn’t push them. Mainly because the others disappeared. Quickly. It’s not likely I’ll be involved in a poly relationship again, but I’m glad I didn’t miss the chance to know that particular woman the way I did.
The point I’m sneaking up on is that being bisexual is different for everyone and, as long as nobody’s being hurt, the entire spectrum of expression is beautiful and valid and should be celebrated. It’s just like the variations of gender expression, or the different colors human beings are found in—there’s no “one right way” to be bisexual, just like there’s no one right way to be trans* or straight or gay or lesbian or asexual or . . . you see what i mean. All we really have to do is be good people, and that takes care of everything else.
Thanks for joining me to celebrate Bi Pride Week!
Be good to each other out there.