I, the wife, am bisexual.
A late-blooming, later-in-life realization bisexual.
But a bisexual, nevertheless.
I think it started in middle school.
It’s hard to tell really, when your entire life you were raised to believe that acting on “gay” urges was considered a sin.
When you were raised to dream about a future that only included a man, children, and a temple marriage.
When you were raised to be straight.
But when I look back on my life,
I believe it started in middle school.
There was a girl in my seventh grade class. We’ll call her Catrina.
I’ve looked for her on social media as an adult;
Not to persue anything, but
Merely out of curiosity and seeing where life has led her.
I liked Catrina.
I had considered her a good friend at age 11 or 12, can’t remember which.
We would hang out in our home room class with a couple of the other girls;
Talk, trade stories, laugh and joke.
Catrina loved to touch my hair.
She would ever so gingerly braid my hair for me; run her fingers through my hair, brush it.
I never minded; I actually loved it when people touched my hair.
And the way she would braid my hair was soothing, relaxing. Comforting of sorts.
Catrina had this beautiful, long light brown hair that went past her waist. Thin, but very soft.
It flowed in the wind when she walked and stepped outdoors.
I liked to braid her Hair, too.
She was slender, thin.
And musical.
She had a beautiful singing voice; a soprano. A gift that she continued all throughout high school.
I always liked Catrina.
Then one day; things changed.
I had a friend; also a born and raised member of the LDS church. One of the girls who hung out with us in homeroom. We’ll call her Ally.
She and my other friend, we’ll call her Bree, came up to me one unexpected day and informed me that our fellow classmate, Catrina…
Had a crush on me.
I remember hearing the news and feeling a little stunned.
Not because I was offended, or grossed out by the thought of being liked by a girl.
But because I had never even considered the possibility that a girl could like me in that way.
I remember running to the bathroom and calling my mom.
I told her about the news I had just discovered,
“Mom, a girl likes me.”
She paused.
I asked her what to do.
She told me to treat Catrina just like I would with a boy who had a crush on me.
I nodded in agreement, we ended the call, and I headed back to class.
“Treat Catrina like a boy.”
The only thing is,
Catrina wasn’t a boy.
She was a girl.
As the days passed of continued time spent with the girls and Cass,
I found myself secretly hoping that Catrina would continue touching my hair; braiding it. Brushing it.
That she would still come over to my desk and talk with me in the mornings.
I found myself hoping that the word of her crush on me getting out would not deter her from wanting to be around me; to spend time with me.
If anything, the news of her crush on me made me want to spend even more time with her.
Internally, I was giddy at the thought of her liking me.
Of course, being raised mormon, I told myself I couldn’t like her back; didn’t even consider the possibility that maybe I had liked her as a little more than a friend.
But I was definitely secretly and internally excited that a girl could like me in that way.
Sadly, our friendship became distant.
Maybe it was because of the news that escaped about her crush on me,
Of her liking girls.
Of the social norms of middle school that made Cassie’s crush on me feel like a ground-breaking news story.
Of the whispers in the hallways.
Maybe it was because when I felt her growing distant, I let it happen;
because after all, being gay was a sin, right?
Catrina was in the wrong.
Right?
So although I became sad at her becoming more and more distant,
I found myself also turning my back on her.
Allowing her to silently hide away.
Ignoring the jolt of disappointment I felt when she changed her desk in class to be at the very back of the classroom instead of near mine.
And I shrugged my shoulders and carried on my merry Mormon way.
I still think about her sometimes.
And wonder what life would have been like,
…if I had been raised to be allowed to like her back.
Liking boys and crushing on them was normal for me.
Expected, even.
Whenever my family asked me about crushes, it always revolved around “he/him.”
Hanging out with male friends was always more closely examined than any of my associations with my female friends.
In middle school, I also developed a crush on this boy; let’s call him Liam.
He was tall, muscular, strong, athletic, and had a head full of blonde hair.
One of the “popular” boys.
I pined after him for a long time; always tried to talk to him, be around him. Always got a little rush of excitement when we would brush by each other, or he came my way.
And actually;
He ended up being my valentine for one year in high school.
I remember he got me a box of chocolates.
The best chocolate I had ever had in my teenage years of young crushes.
But not because the chocolate was actually good, of course.
I really liked this guy. Crushed on him pretty hard.
But then a foreign exchange student from Germany came along, and well…he followed after her, instead.
Regardless, I could remember how it felt to be around him;
The goosebumps that would crawl across my skin,
How my heart would race when we touched.
It was the same way I had felt about that girl in middle school when she braided my hair…
Catrina.
Truth is, I had always liked both boys and girls.
There was something so beautiful and magical about girls.
Something so attractive and strong about the boys.
I loved both.
Was drawn to both.
But of course, as I got older and in high school,
I found myself avoiding looking at the girls around me as they physically matured;
Found myself avoiding eye contact with any pretty girl who was talking to me.
Found myself averting my eyes when we were changing in the locker rooms;
Trying to ignore how uncomfortable I felt around the other girls openly getting into their racing swimsuits for state meets,
…while all the other girls seemed to have no issues with the nudity.
It might have also been a “prude” thing,
Seeing as I was also raised Mormon.
As I got older, I diverted from girls, and focused my attention on the boys.
Because of course, boys were allowed by the church. For me, a girl, to crush on, anyways.
So I didn’t give any more girls a second thought.
At least, not consciously.
In high school, I joined the girls basketball team.
I loved basketball.
I got a thrill from playing the sport!
But there was one thing that I hated;
And I was relentlessly bullied by a girl; let’s call her Danny.
Danny was a more masculine, athletic-type of girl.
She was shorter than me, and stronger. Definitely a good basketball player.
She would close the door on me when leaving the locker room, tease me relentlessly, hide my water bottle and shoes from me.
I hated her.
And then one day, my cousin told me her dad was making her join the swim team; but she didn’t want to do it alone. So I joined with her.
Swim team was during the basketball season.
So I said goodbye to basketball.
I didn’t think anyone would miss me,
Seeing as I was bullied by the one girl and everyone else seemed to find it funny.
So imagine how surprised I was when that girl and one of her close friends on the team asked me where I was during the next years tryouts,
And asked why I wasn’t coming back.
I’ve looked up that girl, Danny, since high school.
She’s openly gay now. Has a girlfriend.
And once I realized that her teasing may have been a young girl’s way of trying to express a crush,
My heart softened towards her.
I no longer hate her.
I understand her.
And it was the closure I needed in understanding why she might have bullied me so badly back in high school.
I liked a boy in high school. His name was, let’s call him Leon.
We were good friends.
We would hang out, talk…
Hold hands underneath the history class desks.
I would imagine him going in to kiss me.
He took me to winter formal one year.
He called me his “arm candy.”
I blushed.
I really liked this boy.
Until I asked him once if he liked me back. And he said no.
And yet, he would hold my hand all the time, still. Even after telling me that he didn’t like me back.
And then that crush ended when I told him I might be interested in becoming a police officer;
And he looked me up and down, in judgement,
And said
“You?! A cop?”
I knew he wouldn’t be one to support my dreams.
I let that crush go.
I’m a police officer in the military now; at the age of 27.
I had lots of great, beautiful and amazing friends. Some platonic, others forming into crushes.
But overall, I fell in love with people.
With their souls, their laughs, and their personalities.
I just loved…people.
But being a young Mormon girl,
I only focused romance on the boys.
And sometimes, I didn’t even like the boys all that much.
But that was what was expected of me by the church.
So I followed the male-crushes I developed.
And the girls had to take to the sideline.
I found myself admiring the way lesbian girls would start dating each other.
It didn’t disgust me or disturb me. Instead, I found them quite cute;
And found myself wishing I was able to explore that part of desire I felt;
What it would be like to date girls in the same way I dated boys.
But regardless;
I stuck with the boys.
After all; I liked them too.
Lucky for me,
I was born liking both genders.
So I was able to adapt my lifestyle to what the church wanted.
But I know other close friends of mine haven’t been so fortunate;
And they’ve had it a lot worse than me; only being attracted to the same gender.
Feeling even more restricted than I had ever felt in the church.
I hurt for them.
It’s interesting; putting limits on who and how a person can love another person.
In the name of what?
Being able to biologically produce offspring?
To me, love isn’t based so much on gender. I love the physical aspects of both, of course.
But to me,
Love has always been based on being human.
On a person’s mind,
Their talents,
Their laugh,
Their smile,
The way they care for others,
The way they sing, dance and have passion for life.
Love is more than just sex; although that’s a big part of it as wells
It is more than lust.
More than reproduction.
Love is…love.
Pure. Raw. Real.
Human.
I met my husband when I was in college.
He has the most beautiful eyes I have ever seen; a beautiful mixture of greens and browns; the colors of the earth I love so much to be surrounded by.
He’s kind, gentle. He’s so gentle when he touches me; it’s like he can’t believe I’m real.
It makes me feel like a beautiful piece of art he doesn’t want to ruin.
But he could never ruin me.
He has a sense of humor that knocks me out of my depressive episodes.
He’s the very sun that shines when I can’t see the light.
He holds me and cradles me in such a way that I have never felt so safe, secure, and grounded.
Our movie nights are some of my favorite times spent with him.
He works hard; and sets big goals for himself.
But he doesn’t just dream about those goals; he actually takes steps to achieve them.
He has overcome some of the most intense darkness I have ever heard of;
Which you wouldn’t know about because of how brightly he shines.
It’s no surprise we got married so quickly.
A couple years into marriage, I finally came to the realization about my sexuality;
…roughly at the same time as my Mormon faith deconstruction was crumbling regarding the lgbtq+ community.
He held me while I cried, and sobbed.
He talked and walked with me through my “what-if’s,” even if it hurt him to hear.
He stood by me when I decided to come out to our loved ones.
He grounded me and helped me to not retreat when others criticized me with assumptions of “are you sure it’s not just a social construct that makes you believe you feel this way,” and bombarded me with questions about “if I was sure,” and “how did I know?”
He loved me for me.
He loves me as a human.
I met him in 2020.
We are still together and married, approaching the year 2027.
And I wouldn’t change a thing for the world.
He’s the love of my life.
He makes sure that I feel complete and total acceptance of myself;
Taking me to pride events and lgbtq+ safe spaces.
He understands that even though I married a man,
That it’s important not to erase the fullness of me, as a human.
He loves me for me.
Just me.
Human me.
And I wouldn’t trade it for the world.
After all;
To limit love is to limit yourself.
Imagine shaming someone for leaving the church –
Because they can’t imagine how an organization could place limits on the way that loving a person of the opposite gender would be more acceptable than loving a person of the same gender;
When the love is the same. 🩷💜💙
