Discovering what it means to be bi is a strange thing.

For years I questioned my bisexuality. 

Where’s the news, you say.

Show me a bi person that doesn’t, you say. 

And you’d be right. 

The first strange thing is that, when you don’t have many bi people around you or you’re not openly bi to your friends, you tend to feel like you’re the only one in the world having these problems.

The second strange thing is that I’ve never had a particularly prosperous sexual life. Better yet, my sexual life has always been a point of shame for me, an area where I keep comparing myself to others and to what-I-should-have-done-by-now, where I keep silent and lie. When bisexuality entered this internal discussion in my brain, it complicated things even more. Should I be attracted to guys the way I am sexually attracted to girls? Should my body behave in the same way? Should I like gay porn equally, or more, than heterosexual porn? What if I’m not sexually aroused by it? Is there something wrong with me? Am I not bi enough?

The third strange thing is that I find dating other guys, especially gay guys, a lot more confusing and, in some cases, threatening than dating girls. Usually, when I date girls, my insecurities take total control: “I am ugly, I am not lovable, she certainly doesn’t like me, it’s pointless to even try”. But the guys I date, or that I match on dating apps, compliment me. They tell me that I’m beautiful, that I’m sexy. They tell me they want to fuck me, even. And I get scared. I don’t know what to do. I don’t know if I want to fuck with them.

There are a lot of guys that I want to kiss, that I want to touch, that I want to fuck. But I’m scared to have sex with cis, gay men. First of all, because I don’t like anal sex. And I feel like this huge focus on penetration is a problem not only in the heterosexual, but also in the gay community. Second of all, I’m scared I won’t be as ready and aroused when I fuck with a guy. What if I don’t like it? What if I’m not conventionally attracted to men? Am I not bi enough? Is that a physical, tangible proof? And most importantly, will he judge me for that?

With all these thoughts and insecurities in my head, I keep messaging this guy I kinda like. We’re in the same online groups, I appreciate his way of thinking, and I love how flamboyant he is. He makes, over time, some casual appreciations over my body. When I’m drunk, sometimes, I write to him how much I’d like to kiss him and fuck him. And he likes it, as if he’s playfully aroused but non-committed. 

I decide I want to try.

I take a train, make some plans with him and go to his city. To visit him, we say. To visit the city with a local, we say. We both know it’s not true. But when I’m there, he ignores me for most of the day. I tell myself I don’t want to fuck with him anymore. I make moves to sleep on the couch, and go away the morning after, but he calls me back in the bed. I still don’t want to fuck, because I’m tired. He tells me he doesn’t want to fuck, cause he’s had an orgy the night before and he’s tired.

Impressive, I think then.

Arrogant, I think now. 

We try to sleep, but he comes closer and closer, and eventually we kiss. And my body responds. There’s still hope for me! I can still be bi! Somehow, he mentions how it’s evident it’s not my first time with a guy. OMG. Panic. My body responds to panic. He seems excited but annoyed. Like this is a normal day at work for him. Sure, he’s had an orgy before, with guys more experienced than me, this must look like onboarding an intern who doesn’t even know how to use a printer.

“Try not to fall in love with me, ok?” he says. 

He tries to put his dick in me, he almost does, but I stop him. 

“No, I don’t like it, sorry.”

He seems to understand.

I try to use laughter and jokes to make this situation less awkward, but he doesn’t seem impressed. Eventually my body responds again, but he isn’t making the situation any easier. He first tells me I’m beautiful, then he makes odd remarks about my body. Then he tells me it’s always more difficult to have sex with a bi guy, but he doesn’t explain it. I’m good at this, though: I like oral sex more than I thought, and I like making jokes in bed. I’m more relaxed.

He tries to penetrate me again. And every single time he does, I politely decline; he seems to understand, but he appears to be impatient. He tries, again and again, and he tries to put my penis in his ass, but then again, I decline. And every time I decline, I do it politely, as if it was the first time this happened. But every time, without any question, without any mention of a condom, he tries again.

Finally, in the morning, we finish.

He accompanies me to the station, and as I take the train, I’m 30% happy and 70% shocked, but I still can’t figure out why. I’m bi, my body has proven me, I had sex with a guy I wanted to have sex with, what’s there not to be happy about?

I tell all of this to a dear friend of mine, who at the time works as a therapist at an anti-violence shelter. She has a different opinion of him than I do. She tells me he violated my consent. But I know about consent, I stated my no various times, I’m lucky I know how to express consent through school and years of feminist activism, if instead of me there was a know-nothing teenager amazingly in love, he wouldn’t have been this lucky. And as I say this, something in me crashes. I start to feel like I’m telling a story of how I miraculously escaped a dangerous situation. Suddenly, I don’t know if there’s anything positive left of this first time.

Does this mean that I am not beautiful? That I’m not attractive?

What if everyone who wants to fuck me will ignore my consent?

What if I’m forever scared to fuck with a guy after this?

What’s left of my sexual bi-awakening, now that it’s tainted?