I’m dating a guy.
That wasn’t so bad, quick like a band-aid, but that has been a pretty hard thing for me to get out these past few months. See, it’s not a huge statement in the grand theme of things, just four little words. It’s not like that statement is going to change the course of the world or anything. Yet, in my personal reality it is a really big thing. It’s a big deal that isn’t that big of a deal, but when you really start to think about it, it goes back to being a big deal again.
I mean, up until about a year ago I was staunchly sure of my sexuality. I dated women. I loved women. I checked out women. Boobs, boobs, boobs, boobs... Who doesn’t love boobs? Then something slowly started to change. This one guy started inching his way into my life, and what was at one point so perfectly clear to me became a little bit cloudy. As it goes in a lot of relationships, we started as friends. I was set on that being the extent of it; there was no chance of anything else because like I said, BOOBS! But like with most things in my life I ended up being wrong. And now, even though I still feel all, “Yay, lady parts,” I’m equally on the dude bandwagon when it comes to this guy.
Don’t get me wrong, I’ve always been able to appreciate a pretty guy. I’ve talked about that on here before. And I think that anyone that says they can’t see the attractiveness of both sexes is just outright lying because they are afraid of their own sexuality. But even though I was able to look at a guy and feel attraction there was always the fact that guys have penises that threw a wrench in the whole thing. Penises are weird, and even after months of being with someone in possession of one that isn’t glittery, purple and only attachable with a harness I still find them kind of strange. Vaginas can be just as weird too, but they are generally compact and self-contained. Penises are just sort of there, bobbing around and popping up at some really inopportune times. (If you’re reading this, Mom, I’m sorry. Pretend you never read that paragraph.)
Anyway, I’m dating a guy, who has a penis, and I’m really happy. We got a place together last month, so I’ve slowly been working through my list of contacts trying to let more people know. This isn’t something I would normally do. Instead I’d wait until I bumped into someone to casually mention it. But like I said, this is a big deal that isn’t a big deal, but kind of is a big deal.
I don’t know if you’ve ever watched The L Word, but there is an episode of that show that perfectly narrates why I feel it necessary to call people about this development in my life. In one of the seasons there is a woman who is caught cheating on her girlfriend with a guy and later leaves said girlfriend to shack up with hook-up guy only to have all of her friends start hating her. Towards the middle of the season there is a scene where the woman shows up to a basketball game that all of her friends are playing in but is told that she can’t play because it is for lesbians only and since she’s dating a dude she no longer qualifies as a lesbian. It’s actually kind of a funny scene because they’re all really girly straight girls in real life and super bad at basketball, but I digress. I watched that scene when it first aired, and at the time I sided with the woman’s friends. She wasn’t a lesbian; she needed to stop calling herself that. She was at least bi. Now it’s taken on a bit of a different spin I guess.
The point is, lesbians often think of men as the enemy. Or at least they think that of men who seemingly turn their once lesbian friends into straight housewives. And like in this horrible gay soap opera scene, that train of thought is usually carried over to the friend as well until they too become the enemy. Of course, in the show’s case everything worked out because the woman realized her mistake and went back to the wonderful land of vaginas and all was forgiven.
I told my sister about my relationship a few nights ago. It went as well as I expected, and I was asked repeatedly why I was dating a guy when I had told her for years I was a lesbian. Didn’t I know that dating a guy meant I wasn’t actually a lesbian? So what are you then, straight? She said a lot of hurtful and judgmental things, but that is probably what hurt the most. I don’t know what I to call my sexuality at this point.
Despite the amount of questions I’ve gotten about it in these last few months I’ve still not figured out what to label myself. For now I’ve taken the stance that it doesn’t really matter. I don’t have to reaffirm my sexuality everyday by saying it out loud, so why does it matter if I know what to call myself? And why does that label have to mean so much to so many other people? I’m not going to start being all, “I’m label free, man. One love…” I mean, call yourself or don’t call yourself whatever you want, but for me it’s confusing to be where I am right now. Hopefully I’ll figure it out, but I’m not letting it get to me.
I’m dating and living with a guy. Those are two things I definitely never thought I’d do, but here I am. And even though I’m dealing with quite a lot of backlash, I’m happy. I may be having quite a few horribly awkward conversations lately, but I still get to go home at the end of the day to someone I love. He may have a penis, he may not be who I expected to be with, but he’s still pretty great. Life is pretty great.
P.S. BOOBS!
