The Reality Of Coming Out To Yourself First

I guess I always thought I was straight. It was what I was raised to be. I have always liked boys: the way they smell, the way they look, the way they feel pressed against me. Yes, I very much like boys.

I went to a female-centric performance event at my school a year ago where a woman read a piece where she talked about how she believed in an internal coming out, in coming out to oneself. I didn’t think too much about it at the time.

It wasn’t until I met the right girl that all of my feelings clicked into place. I saw her come out of her bedroom with her makeup done up and my breath stopped. I had always noticed the beauty of girls, but I’d always attributed it to my appreciation of beautiful things. No, looking at this gorgeous girl in bar clothes, I knew that it was more than that.

We went to the bar and she was so friendly even though she was a friend of a friend I had met only hours before. She clung to my arm, leaned into me when I told a joke, and my heart was racing even though I was in denial of what I was feeling.

She invited me to come sleep in her queen bed even though we barely knew each other. I stayed up all night, alert in case—hoping—that something more would happen.  It didn’t.

A week later, we went bowling together, and it felt like a date even though I knew that it wasn’t. We were giggling over each shot, sending each other sly looks every few seconds. I felt that nervousness in my stomach consistent with any romantic interest I’ve had in the past.

The words echoed in my mind: “I believe in an internal coming out.” I had never even considered that I was anything but straight until the evidence came and slapped me in the face, saying wake up! I remembered all the times I had been infatuated with female friends. I remembered how drawn I had been to girls throughout my life. I remembered the girl I met in first year who I wanted so desperately to impress, even though I couldn’t understand the desire at the time.

And it hit me like a tractor trailer going full speed:

I like girls. And I also like boys. I’m bisexual.

This feeling came over me when I acknowledged it, like it was something I had always known but never truly believed.

My mother still prays that I’ll find the right man, and I don’t know how to tell her to factor “woman.” into the equation. I don’t know if I’ll ever find the words to tell her. But I know myself right now, and really, that’s enough.

Featured Image via Pexels


Please enter your comment!
Please enter your name here

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.