Coming Out. Again.

Diary of a ‘crap lesbian’, part one.
At the age of fifteen, I proudly acknowledged my bisexuality to my parents. I was lying, of course. I didn’t like boys at all, but somehow it was easier to come out as bi than gay to my alternative parenting team. It was probably expected of me, but that’s another piece altogether.

I was compelled to disclose the details of a blossoming relationship with a girlfriend only because we had been caught in flagrante delicto by a family friend, and I feared I would be outed by her.

Coming out to friends was easy. We were an incestuously close group; experimental outcasts from whom a rejection of the rules, and of the norm, was the only expectation. We spent our evenings at the local rock club, or holed up in a bedroom smoking weed. Thus, it came as no surprise when a large number of us announced our deviant sexualities. Bisexuality was not only acceptable, it was fashionable. We claimed through a haze of blue smoke that sexuality was fluid, gender unimportant.

By the time school was over, and we began to part ways, most had settled down. We were deviant still, but now more specifically so. There was a pair of Lesbians, not involved with each other, three Gay Men, and one lone bi girl.

For many years I was the epitome of the uber-femme lipstick-lezzer. I didn’t question my sexuality at all. I like my ladies feminine to boyish. In my heart I’m a girls girl and I like it that way. I am not dressed without my mascara and I wouldn’t dream of going out on the pull without a pair of stilettos on my feet. My finely honed gaydar went crazy whenever there was a dyke in the vicinity, and more often than not, I would act on it.

So… what changed? Well, in short, I got drunk, but that’s not where the story starts.

Some time ago I welcomed back into my life an old friend. I knew this friend was bisexual, she and I had once attempted a relationship, and without her influence, I doubt I would have allowed myself to experiment further with my own sexuality. When, then, I was taken by surprise by the intoxicated advances of a male friend I did not suppress my own drunken lusts, but allowed him to seduce me. Our torrid affair lasted only a matter of (chiefly sober) days, but something in me had changed. I had allowed myself an experience that otherwise I wouldn’t have dreamt of and, dammit, I enjoyed it.

Now I’m trying to embrace my bisexuality. It’s not easy, I’ve sharpened my reflexes against male advances, and acting contrary to them is hard work. While I consider myself an excellent flirt (and modest too) I have no idea how one goes about chatting up a bloke. I’ve never had to do it and I expect it shall be some time before I try.

I find the b-word problematical. The negative connotations I’m not ready to fight against, that’s a little too much for me at the moment. How long, though, can I continue to spout forth such blatant falsities as ‘I’m still a lesbian, I just like having sex with men,’ and what, dare I ask, am I to say if I ever develop a romantic attachment to a man? ‘ I’m still a lesbian, I’m just in love with a feller’ really doesn’t cut it.

It is because of this lack of comfort with the b-word, I’ve come up with many a theory regarding my own sexuality, which, if given the chance I shall share with anyone who is happy to listen. Maybe I have to grow secure with my sexuality, accept myself, before I can expect anyone else to.

Having to come out all over again is difficult, especially since I’m discovering other new aspect of my self at the same time. There are prejudices to face, and while the bisexual community largely accepting, the wider LGBT community is not. As bisexuals, you may face narrow-minded taunts that you can’t make your mind up, or you’re just being greedy, as a Lesbian ‘changing teams’ I face all that and more. I am turning my back on my sisters, giving in to a male dominated world, bowing to societal pressure. Another one bites the dust. Worse still are the ‘I knew she wasn’t gay’ comments, the insinuation that my flirtation with lesbianism was no more than a game, a phase, something to entertain me, or keep me in the spotlight.

So it’s all change. That’s fine with me, but how to go about broaching the subject? Short of having a t-shirt emblazoned with the words ‘Do Boys Now – Ask Me How’ I can’t think of an easy way to do it. My friends, family, even acquaintances have known me as strictly lesbian for many years, out and proud, now I find myself working a rather loaded ‘actually…’ into the conversation whenever my sexuality comes up. I worry I am disappointing them. Why? I don’t know. As for my colleagues, most of whom don’t know I’m queer at all, coming out shouldn’t be to difficult. All it takes is a Christmas party, one too many G&T’s and an inappropriate suggestion to the new (pregnant, engaged) office girl.