“I kinda guessed”

Four people know.

The past two times involved alcohol – I (felt that I) needed that extra boost of courage and skimped inhibition.

I’m not sure if I am pleased, surprised, or disappointed that both of them iterated versions of “I kinda guessed”. Last night’s was a more confident “I knew it from when I first met you”, versus the previous one’s “I’ve suspected for a few years” (I’ve only known her for three…).

Both times, it was stuck in my throat for a good 5 minutes – my gaping mouth pumping for words to come out, side tracking and rerouting the story – but with the first one, she did know where i was going. When she saw me struggling, she offered “just know that I’m totally open minded here and that I’ll support you no matter what. We’re friends”. After I finally said it, she told me stories of her own childhood friend who came out and caught her totally by surprise (he’s a stereotypical gay boy, I don’t know how she missed it). As someone who had just come out, I really appreciated that she did that, that she took the reigns and led with her own stories – it was nice to listen to but more importantly, gave me time to recover from my jump. I asked her how she knew what I was trying to tell her and she said it was because I kept talking about this girl throughout the night. I don’t recall her exact words when I asked her how she knew (aka just the most important detail) but it was something along the lines of “my gaydar is good”. I didn’t prod further because a part of me was scared. “If you ask me, everyone’s a little bisexual“.

A more hilarious (in hindsight) story came with my second friend. “I need to talk to you about something”, led to her being concerned and pulling me outside the bar to talk. Again, I drowned in a sea of “Umms” and other distractions. Somewhere 5 minutes into me trying, I tried to segway to it through “remember when I said I had a moment with the other girl, last weekend, when I drunkenly texted you?” (I was talking about the girl who I came out to, above). She immediately said “yes. What happened? Did you make out with her?” Then slightly quieter “did you fuck her?”. Like a machine gun, I shook my head “Noooooo, no no no no no no nooo. No. No.” I think it was then that I told her what I told the girl. I was buried in the moment, but in hindsight……….. she asked if I fucked a girl before I could even tell about my sexuality. -_- Regardless, she was extremely supportive and again, told me her own stories of her bisexuality and the bullshit she went through with an unsupportive social circle. She told me she knew from the minute she met me (I sense overreaching here) but again, I don’t know if she answered the question directly when I asked how she knew. Something about a good gaydar, probably.

I don’t consider myself a girly-girl, but I wouldn’t consider myself butch either. I love sports, I’m active, I lift weights, but I don’t dress in full suits or have short hair (I love my long hair!). I like being feminine – it’s empowering and instills confidence, especially when I know I can fend for myself if I were harrassed.

I’m fully aware of the stereotypes I just casted, but I confess I have a fear of being a stereotypical homosexual – I’m 90% sure it’s because I don’t want to be explicitly outed but I also think it stems from self-image issues and me being very uncertain of how I look. Sometimes I’ll catch my reflection in the mirror and think “damn, yes!” while other times it’s “oh lord, really?”.

I’m still trying to figure it out – what I’m feeling and why I feel that way.

The second person I told, a bisexual man, told me that “it gets easier” (a more refined and honest version of the lauded “it gets better”). I don’t choke up anymore – the first time I did it was emotionally (which transcended to physically) draining, borderline crippling – but the second two times I had the aid of alcohol. I’m sure I could do it again without alcohol (it was only a few beers) but it just so happened that was the setting that we were in.

I’m still figuring it out.

It’s a strange feeling I get every time I come out – I can’t tell if it feels like I’m losing a bit of myself… or if I’m reclaiming a part of myself. It’s just not something I can do casually, or often, at the moment. But when Number 5 happens, it’ll be recounted here. For me, it’s just a matter of who.


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