Girls Like Boys and Girls Like Girls

For a long time, I came to terms with my sexuality as “bisexual.” I think I was even a little too proud of it. I would meet someone and practically immediately say, “Hi my name is Tessa, and guess what? I’m bi!” Maybe I was just determined to find others like me (which in some ways, being so upfront about it really did help). I was too proud because it took me so long to accept the fact it was okay to like girls. Once I finally felt comfortable with it, I never wanted to feel like it had to be sheltered or contained, so I was ready to announce it to anyone in sight.

Now recently, I’ve been obsessed with that label. If I like a guy and want to be with a guy, that’s fine. If I like a girl and want to be with a girl, that’s fine too. Yet, it’s still not good enough for me. Part of it may have to do with my poor experience with guys, but also the false narrative around “bisexuality” in which people believe bisexual people can just pick a side. Many of these factors contribute to why I suddenly feel at a crossroads with my sexual identity.

I realized I liked girls when I was 13. I had a bunch of online friends that I played games with, and there were a few of us that got really close. One day, one of the girls, who we’ll call Riley, came out as bisexual. It was a really big deal for her, and everyone was so supportive. It was a thought that had never crossed my mind. I had never known I could be a girl and like girls, or be a girl who likes girls and guys.

My sexual identity discovery happened when I was at a lake house in Michigan that my family and I would visit every summer. Whenever I think of that lake house, my introduction to bisexuality is one of the first memories that comes to mind.

Right around this time, I had been watching The Fosters. In The Fosters, there are two moms. When I was watching, I’d think about if I could see myself like that. Being a wife to another woman and not marrying a man. I was okay with it, and I could see it. So, I started “dating” Riley. I don’t really consider it an actual relationship as I’d never met her, and it pretty much only lasted a week, but I remember crying every night.

It didn’t feel right to me. I was raised in a Christian household, and I was terrified what my parents would think of me. I don’t think we ever really discussed if it was okay to be gay or not, not that anyone needs parental permission to be gay, but I just got the notion that it wasn’t. I “broke up” with Riley because I wasn’t really okay with the way I was feeling.

Despite the crying, confusion, and sadness, my realization of liking girls was crystal clear to me. A year or so prior to this, I had been best friends with this girl, and whenever she talked about her boyfriend, I got extremely jealous. I never understood why I was so jealous of her boyfriend, and suddenly, it was clear.

I knew I liked girls the second Riley came out. I never realized that I could like both girls and guys. Mentally, I convinced myself it was one way or the other. Maybe that mentality is what’s coming back to bite me now, as I’m stuck again where I once was five years ago.

A couple months later, I was now in middle school and still struggling with this part of me. I came out to a couple of my close friends, because it was too much to hold inside. They were all really supportive, and I ended up really liking two of them.

The first girl, Jane, I kind of had a thing with. We were 13 or 14 at the time, so it’s not like anything was really going to happen. I realized she liked me when I told her I liked another girl. There were two periods of time when we were involved in our own situationship. The first time, I cut it off. The second time, she did. In hindsight, it’s possible that she wasn’t really ready to find that part of herself either.

The second girl, Molly, definitely knew I liked her, and there were times where she’d be subtly flirting with me “on accident.” I don’t know if she ever really liked me, but she did come out a year or so later.

I came out to my mom November of my 8th grade year. She was supportive in the best way I could’ve ever anticipated. We didn’t tell my dad until about two years later. After I told my mom, I felt more comfortable with myself. This is where I hit the “let’s tell everyone I know I’m bi” phase. For a while I was so afraid of it, and then all I wanted to do was embrace it.

The summer after freshman year, one of my mutual friends, Margo, and I actually started dating. The transition from the “talking” stage to the “exclusive” stage was about a six week period. This relationship did end fairly quickly, partially due to my commitment issues, but we’ll just go with, “things didn’t work out.”

It’s important to talk about the boy-related side of this. I’ve never “officially” had a boyfriend. I’ve talked to guys, liked guys, told guys I loved them, and still, I’m not completely sure I actually liked them. Maybe it’s because I get rejected by guys easily, or when guys do like me, they’re simply not the ones I’m looking for. There have been guys I really liked, but as soon as they liked me, I would quickly change my mind. Dating was not as much of a struggle for me with girls.

That’s what confuses me the most. I could rattle off names of guys I’ve liked, but how do I know what it means to truly like a guy if, as soon as they like me, I change my mind? Is it because I think I’m supposed to like girls and guys? Do I force myself to be attracted to both? Why is it easier with girls?

I put all this pressure on myself to figure out the answers to these questions, and I’m not the type to just experiment for experiment’s sake.

I wish I could pinpoint a specific moment when I pushed myself into the mentality that being bi isn’t good enough, or it’s too broad, or it needs to be one or the other. I think it was a combination of things. When I had reciprocated relationships with men, I would feel disgusted and guilty afterwards, but with women—even unreciprocated—it felt more real. Also, most of the men I seemed to go after would often be conceited or rude. After further research on Chicago Tribune, I realized it falls along the lines of the fact that “I never really had good long-term relationships, and chose men who were self-fulfilling assholes, because some part of me knew I wouldn't love them long term.”

Also, on Advocates for Youth, they had a list of questions to ask yourself if you think you might be lesbian. One that stuck out to me was, “Do I feel uncomfortable or different from my straight friends when they talk about the guys they like?” I felt as if this question was exactly designed for me.

I noticed that lately I’ve seemed to really be struggling with my anger. I get irritated easily and annoying comments or actions from others are quick to set me off, but I know it could just be the war within myself. I’m putting all of this pressure to force myself with choosing an identity. What I’ve learned throughout my journey is to just slow down. Is anyone really 100% secure in themselves? Even if it’s a different part of you, sometimes it can be hard to completely understand ourselves. For me, this is just a current part of my identity. I can’t seem to find a label that fully defines my sexuality. And that’s okay.