Bisexuality, Again...

Usual disclaimer: this is about sex, sexuality and the philosophies thereof. It may contain details. Do not read if you're squeamish about any of the above.

About 11 days ago, when the events began to kick off that led to me becoming involved with my darling girl E, I had a moment of sheer panic. What if all those bitchy naysayers about bisexuality had been right? What if I was just looking for attention or trying to be special? What if I found myself in an intimate situation with a girl and realised that I was in fact not really attracted to women that way at all? I believed I was bisexual and had gone as far as kissing and that felt fine, but for a moment I wondered whether it really was all in my head.

Thankfully the panic was over quickly and turned out to be entirely unfounded. Not only was it great, but it was far, far better than anything I'd ever experienced with a man. That is not to insult the men I've had relationships with - well, not to insult the few of them who actually had decent skills - but being with a girl felt right in a way that heterosexual relations have never done for me.

While potentially triggering another round of 'what is my sexuality, exactly?', this also opened my eyes to the very real difference between heterosexuality / homosexuality and bisexuality. I simply cannot imagine only being attracted to a single sex. I may have spent 20 years of my life being unknowingly bisexual and another 10 largely pretending I wasn't, but it was there in my mind... there to the core. To me the 'either or' mindset is so familiar, natural and comfortable. I had a stark moment of realisation that most people are genuinely only interested in one gender, one way or another. It struck me just how weird that was to me, and equally just how weird bisexuality must seem to those who don't experience it.

The long-awaited confirmation that this really truly is who I am forced me to confront the fact that this is something that most people are not. A very strange moment. A defining moment of identity that was really very meaningful and special, and I don't want it to be eclipsed by the general squeeing over-excitement that currently fills my days.

I am bisexual. Naturally, fundamentally, from birth to death, to the core. This is part of who I am.


And I am proud that I am finally whole.


Welcome to Christine :)

Lost and Found

Sometimes life whomps you so hard and so unexpectedly that there's nothing you can do but sit back and wait for it to stop. You can't rationalise or plan or do anything really except let the feelings come and go and accept them as they pass.

The past 11 days have been like that for me.

Tuesday of the week before last, I went to a Bi Underground meeting in a north London pub. It was just a social thing, and I was hoping to meet other fun, geeky, open-minded people to hang out with. Nothing too challenging.

After about half an hour, a guy walked in (henceforth, SK). My eyes met his.

WHOMP.


We've now been 'officially' together for a little over a week, and it is amazing. We are on the same page and in sync in so many ways that it's just scary and bizarre that we met in such a random way. This one is really, really, really good. For 5 days I was completely delirious with excitement.

WHOMP.


On Thursday my favourite London school offered me, via my recruitment company, a 6-week supply posting covering a teacher that's been called up for jury duty. She'll be out until the end of the school year, securing my income until the summer holidays, which is a fantastic relief.

WHOMP.

On Sunday night I had trouble sleeping, and on Monday on my way to work, my mobile phone rang. It was my brother in Perth, and right away I knew what it must be. My beloved grandfather Paul had passed away peacefully mid-afternoon Perth time. He had dementia and repeated lung infections and was in a nursing home, and we knew he could go at any time. I knew I wouldn't be home for it when I left, but that's no consolation now.

WHOMP.

One of my aunts did offer to pay for me to go back to Perth for the funeral, but not only would I lose income, I'd also lose this extended posting at the school, and probably wipe out any chance of a year-long job with them after the holidays. It wouldn't be worth it to go home. But I feel such a terribly long way away from my family. Mum is missing me dreadfully (even though she told me not to come back for the funeral, she wishes I was there) and I just want to hug my family and be near them right now.

I miss my grandfather so much. It was time and more for him to go, but now I will never, ever hear his voice again. It's taken me a few days to come to grips with the sadness - through the week I've been putting on a brave face and coping as well as I can, but as the surreal feeling fades and the reality takes hold, I'm falling down inside.

Dickens had it right - it was the best of times and the worst of times. I can't balance up the amazingness of finding SK and the relief of this teaching position and the grief of losing Paul. It won't all fit in my head.

I feel whomped.

So I'm drifting and waiting for it all to make sense again.