Lately, I have been going through a process of change. I have been embracing that change in a lot of ways, but it also got me thinking about my sexuality and how I view it. Obviously, I go through these thoughts on a regular basis, but there is always some sort of insight I’m looking for to bring me a greater understanding of myself. And the thing that is hitting me lately is the idea that once it is out – i.e. the idea that people know I’m bisexual – then there is no taking it back.
It’s all out of the bag when that happens. And as much as people want to claim they would never treat you differently, the fact is that they do. For example, I was reading a post on Twitter the other day where a woman had mentioned she would never knowingly date a bisexual man. Her claim is that she would feel like she could never fulfill his needs (I’m sure she was implying having no penis). Granted, there were plenty of responses that either supported or rejected her claim. My personal opinion is that a relationship is always unique based upon the two people involved, no other relationship will be the same. So, I think in some circumstances, it is irrelevant if one person is bisexual and chooses to me monogamous.
But the claim this Twitter user made had me contemplating the merits of coming out. I once had a friend tell me that his sexuality was on a need to know basis and I have truly embraced that aspect of my sexuality. Really, it’s no one’s business unless we are going to have sex. There aren’t too many people in my real life that knows I’m bisexual: obviously, any guy I’ve been with knows (relax, it’s not that many – I can count them on one hand), I’ve told my wife about the experiences I had before we met (she has an expectation of exclusivity), a therapist and one user on Twitter whom I know in real life, and of course everyone who reads my blog and follows me on Twitter know. I’ve been rather comfortable with this fact.
But, I have strongly been contemplating telling my mom that I’m bisexual. I haven’t really thought about if it’s relevant to tell her or not. I guess on some level I still wonder if my marriage will last or not and when I think about it, I begin to ponder what to do if it does fail. What if I am interested in dating guys at that time? Maybe I’ll meet another woman and we fall in love? Or maybe I just don’t give a fuck about it and I’m searching for some pathetic attempt to make myself happy (side note: there is a 98.243% chance this last claim is true). One of the problems with telling my mom is it’s guaranteed everyone in my family will know. There is something about having your mom accept you the way you are as being the ultimate feeling of validation though.
Like always, however, the idea of sharing this aspect of myself fills me with serious anxiety and self-doubt. I mean, ultimately, does it really matter if anyone knows? I mean, as long as I’m honest with myself that has got to be the highest honor in a situation like this. Although I come from a family of Catholics, my dad and mom have never been judgmental – they certainly will express their fears and concerns about the way their kids live their lives, but I have always felt that their desires is that we are all just happy. But do I really need to mention it to anyone? Sometimes, I truly believe I make it harder on myself than anyone else would make it on me.
And, as I begin feeling better about myself and I look at how I want to live my life, I start thinking that I have treated sex and my sexuality like I have alcohol – a temporary fix to the pain I feel in my life. Sometimes, I think that I go through this idea that I have to do something to make myself feel better, to alleviate the pain and anxiety I feel about my life. I don’t honestly, know how to function in relationships, as it is, and the idea that I somehow need to come out strikes me as an odd dichotomy since my relationships always struggle anyways. What good would it achieve? Is my mind really just playing another trick on me?
Ultimately, I just don’t know what the right answers are to things in my life, and then I think that it’s because I’m losing touch with The Now – that simple idea that I only need to worry about the moment I am experiencing at this point in time. And when I remember that, then it feels like so much anxiety leaves me; there is nothing I must do at this moment that concerns some other time frame – past or present. Right now is all that matters and there is nothing in this moment that warrants me admitting I enjoy sex with either men or women. There is nothing in this moment that tells me I need to say anything to anyone.