Coming out stories are personal, they’re emotional, and can sometimes be confusing to tell. Mine in particular has always been somewhat of a difficult story to recall – not because of the emotions behind it, I was very confident in coming out, but because of the people that took part in my realization. I never knew how to tell it properly and respect the identities of those involved. Truth be told, I was always worried that people will use the identity of a certain player in my realization story against me and claim that I wasn’t actually bi. Now I don’t care.
With this being my 6th year of being out, and with many people following my page and blog asking to hear my story, it’s time for me to tell it my coming out story.
I had my first “boyfriend” in my first year of middle school; I was 13. He was my first kiss, my first puppy love, and we “dated” for around a year. This began a cycle that has lasted for all of my relationships – date, breakup, single for a month, rinse and repeat. But when I was 14 I had a slightly different relationship cycle. I started dating a guy and messing around behind his back.
One of my best friends, who had yet to identify himself as a transman (I will be using his pronouns to refer to him, even in past tense), and I had an old fashion, Katy Perry fueled, experiment session in my bedroom that winter. We kissed, kissed some more, and I didn’t look back.
We kept that up for a few years. I would go over to his place, and vice versa, for sleepovers and we would continue the grand experiment. Within the first month, I knew I had feelings for him. I specifically remember writing in my very ill kept diary that “I don’t care if what [we’re] doing is wrong, I don’t care if Jesus will hate me, I’m in love with [him].”
He was my first love, my first real taste of intimacy.
It was with him that I realized I wasn’t “normal”, and it was with him that I realized I was okay with that. Our journey began together, though his took a slightly different path publicly than mine did. We were both bullied a bit in middle school. I remember being called a dyke frequently and dealing with my fair share of self-harm jokes.
High school came, and I grabbed the chance to own who I was by the horns. I introduced myself at the first day of band camp to my two soon-to-be best friends with “I’m bisexual”, and entered my high school years determined to further explore who I was, and what I wanted in life.
I never got a girlfriend, the relationship cycle was entirely boy-centric, but that’s all my own fault. I had a chance to date my middle school co-experimenter and backed out of it. That decision would thrust me into an abusive relationship, but I knew I had my best friend, my first love, by my side throughout all of it.
My junior year of high school started and I began a secret relationship with a guy that was way too old for me. I came out to my parents about that relationship sometime either before or during senior year. A few months later I would write a poem to my mom telling her that I was bisexual. While the poem itself is horrible and makes me cringe every time I read it, the main gist of it can be summarized by this stanza –
I like [redacted]
He’s really great
But girls I also
I don’t really remember her reaction; maybe she cried, maybe she didn’t. I was in and out of the room in a matter of minutes.
Coming out, for me, was something destined to happen. I was too in love in middle school to ignore the impact those years had on my sexuality. I knew I was bi at 14, and years later I’m still sure of it. My parents have been fairly supportive of my identity, and my siblings have never hesitated in showing their support of who I am. My dad even made a joke one Father’s Day vaguely acknowledging my sexuality – it was as cheesy as every good dad joke should be, and definitely caught me off guard.
My middle school love and I still talk. He’s happily transitioning and dating a wonderful woman who supports everything he does. I’m in the healthiest relationship I’ve ever had with a wonderful and accepting boyfriend. I still have some regrets about how I lived my life, and about the opportunities I missed, but I know who I am, I’m confident in who I am, and I know nothing can ever take that away from me.