I’ve been happily married for 10 years

I was married The man is almost 10 years old. Any outside observer would assume that this means I’m straight – I don’t really come out to my family or many friends (which might be awkward if they read this… Hmm, hi everyone!) – but in fact I bisexual.

I don’t like to remain silent about who I really am, but now it seems too difficult for me to come out openly, and I also don’t think it’s appropriate to declare that I am a member LGBTQ+ community when I have never had to face the same struggles and obstacles. This is a space that I feel I have no right to.

But I would really like to spend more time doing research and more time dating women.

I always knew that I attracts girls. I first fell in love with a girl at school when I was about nine – shortly before I fell in love with Ronan Keating from Boyzone. But this dichotomy confused me. In the 80s and 90s, the prevailing rumor among bisexual people was that they were delusional: either they were gay and didn’t want to admit it, or women were playing a role to attract men. Even Phoebe Buffay Friends sang that “there are bisexuals, but some say they’re just fooling themselves.” This phrase stabbed me in the stomach like a dagger. Did I just make this all up?

I was definitely attracted to men too, so maybe I wasn’t attracted to women. Firstly, it was much easier to meet boys – they came to me. I didn’t even know how to start looking for girls who liked girls and I didn’t know who to ask. So I dated a few boys, and only boys.

By the time I entered university. I sheepishly admitted to a lesbian classmate that women never seemed to be interested in me – I hoped she would understand that I meant that I was interested in women, but instead she scoffed, “That’s because you’re clearly straight.” . I had been so conditioned to believe that “gaydar”—another 90s narrative—was real that I thought she must know better than I did. I gave her supposed authority on the topic more weight than my own feelings.

This, combined with social anxiety and the fear of talking to someone I didn’t know, meant that I never dared approach a woman. And I never felt confident enough to come out. I told myself I’ll tell my friends and family I was bisexual if I had ever gotten into a relationship with a woman, but that didn’t happen.

Of course, it’s a vicious circle – it’s hard to find a relationship if you’re not outside the home. But other than a few drunken kisses and romps, I had no experience with women. This only made me feel even more incapable of meeting women.

Eventually I met my husband. I love him very much. We have two wonderful children and I am very happy. There’s not a part of me that wants anyone else, but I can’t help but feel like I’ve missed out on a part of my life. That I failed to be completely myself.

People tend to assume that the person you end up with determines your sexuality, but it’s not that simple, especially for bisexual people. The “bi” part means you have two options, but if you choose monogamy, the “mono” part means you have to choose one.

People are so willing to dismiss my experience: I married a man, so I must have been straight all along. And, of course, I didn’t have to enter into a monogamous marriage, but I wanted to. Why shouldn’t I have this opportunity like everyone else? This should not devalue my personality.

I spent most of my life hiding parts of myself. And now it seems like it’s too late to let that part be seen.

Destructive biphobic attitudes forced me to hide from everyone, even myself. I question whether I can even legally call myself bisexual if I’ve only been in relationships with men. However, I know that we live in the memory of many gay men who feel locked in the closet – men and women forcing themselves into heterosexual relationships. relationship out of fear and never daring to express or explore their true sexuality.

There are still people who are afraid to reveal their true gender identity due to the threat of hatred or violence, but this does not make that gender identity any less real. If someone dies a virgin, we don’t automatically call them asexual, do we? The level of freedom you have to love and be loved, to be yourself and to be accepted as such, should not limit who you are.

So right now I don’t feel comfortable being visible as a bisexual woman, but I want my story to be visible. Because I want people to learn from me. I want bisexual people to know that they are real, and I want others to realize that casual “jokes” and slights, derogatory language and prejudiced views cut deeper than you might imagine. The way we talk about bisexual people in the media and popular culture matters. How we talk to each other about sexuality matters.