It’s Thanksgiving, and given that I’m in Chicago, I won’t be making it to the family dinner this evening. I am, however, a proponent of holiday traditions, so in the spirit of the season, I’ll be submitting my awkward dinner conversation piece remotely today, via blog.
I’m bisexual. Here’s what that means: I’m attracted to both men and women. It isn’t an even split, though. For example, I have no romantic interest in men. I don’t have any desire to go out on a date with a guy or pursue a longterm relationship with someone who identifies as male. Will I have sex with someone who identifies as male? Absolutely. Happily. But as soon as they start talking about brunch plans, I’m out (actually, I’ll take the brunch, but we’re just friends).
To clarify: I am not gay. A lot of people (gay and straight alike) seem to be of the impression that being bisexual means that I’m really gay, but that I just haven’t fully come out of the closet. Firstly, who are you? How do you know me? Why do you feel like you can make broad stroke statements about me based on a single identifier, and in doing so, call me a liar? Or if not a liar, then willfully ignorant? I have gone to great lengths to get to know myself, and I assure you, I know myself better than those people know me.
If you don’t know me (yeah, you, random person at a bar), here’s some history on the subject of Sean: I have had multiple, long-lasting, satisfying, passionate relationships with people who identify as women. Is that a fluke? Was I faking joy and happiness and true love in all those instances? Were my feelings lessened by the fact that I think penises are cool, too? I don’t think so.
In fact, I know that I love intimacy of all kinds with women. I regularly find myself lost in daydreams about cuddling and intensely kissing my imaginary partner (usually a real person, but like… someone that was pretty that I saw on a bus once and thought, “I bet we’re soulmates and one day, we’ll run into each other on another bus or train and realize it as we smile at each other with our eyes!”), and in each of those fictions, it is woman on the receiving end of my affection.
Trust me, I was there when it happened. Or ya know, don’t trust me. Continue with your hard-line thinking if it makes you more comfortable. That’s what you’re going to do, anyway, but now you also have my permission.
Here’s another thing it doesn’t mean: I do not necessarily agree with everything the pro-LGBT majority espouses. Despite being secular and socially forward in my beliefs, I spent a few years in politics and I pay a fair amount of attention to local, national, and international news. That is to say, I have detailed and nuanced opinions on the world and its goings on. Here’s an idea – if you’re curious about how I feel about a given issue, ask me about it. I’d be more than happy to tell you – I am comfortable being uncomfortably open about my life.
I think I started this without a point (as one starts any uproarious holiday dinner conversation), but what I’ve come to is this: we are all individuals. We were all born under different circumstances, and we all have a lifetime of influences that have lead us to where we are now. I don’t care if you like me (except that as an artist, I desperately need you to like me), but I do care if you’re a douchebag to me or the people I care about. So put on a smile, have another drink, and hug it out.
Now, let’s talk about anything else.