A late-discovered bisexual ponders the closet in which he finds himself
It’s something you hear quite often. Bisexuals are underrepresented. We might be the most numerous of the LGBTQ community, but we’re not visible. Not enough of us are coming out.
I think my own story might shed some light on why at least some bisexuals are reluctant to be open about their bisexuality.
As you have probably figured out, I'm bisexual. I am a 49-year-old bisexual husband and father in a heterosexual marriage. My sexual experience has been exclusively with the opposite sex, but I am sexually attracted to both men and women. You might also have guessed that I'm in the closet.
You probably have some ideas about why I’m in the closet, but that’s where you might be wrong. I’m not too worried about being rejected by family or friends. My parents are both deceased, I’m not close to my siblings, my wife is very progressive, my friends outgrew their homophobia years ago (as I did), and my kids were raised to see LGBTQ people as simply people. They won’t mind. I don’t intend to go sleeping with men in secret, or asking my wife if we can be polyamorous. I don’t personally think bisexuality is anything to be ashamed of. It’s really not a big deal for me.
And that's the problem.
The classic 'coming out' story
When we think of a middle-aged, married man who comes out of the closet, we typically think of a person who was, if not unhappy, at least unsatisfied with the life they were living. They've always known they were different, always had private desires, but did what was expected of them. They came out either because they finally got tired of denying themselves what they really needed, or they'd been leading a double life that was finally discovered.
Coming out, for those people, is the first step in embarking on the kind of life they always wanted but didn't think they could have. Existing relationships are either coming to an end, or changing in significant ways.
That’s a pretty common story for those who are either gay or bisexual with a strong preference for the same sex. Chances are they always knew what they really wanted, and are in a heterosexual marriage that, for all the good things it might have given them, was never a good fit.
The problem is that I don’t fit that narrative at all. For a start, I didn’t even know I was bisexual until I was about 40. You might wonder how that’s possible, but it’s more common than you think.
The sexual spectrum
The key to understanding my situation is to first let go of the idea of sexual orientation in absolute terms. I used to think that most people were completely straight, some people were gay, and some people went both ways equally and completely. I used to think that these feelings were clear, fixed, and didn’t vary throughout a person’s life. That’s still the way a lot of people understand it, unless they have a particular interest in the subject. The problem is that nothing involving the human brain is ever that simple.
Like many other things, sexuality is a spectrum. At one end, you have a strong (but not absolute) attraction to the opposite sex. At the other end is a strong attraction to the same sex. Bisexuality, rather than being a point halfway between the two, is an entire span of blending and swirling combinations.
I'm attracted to both (all) genders to some degree, but a variety of factors influence that attraction. I can say that I'm more attracted to women, but that barely scratches the surface. Things like age, body type, ethnicity, hairstyle, even circumstances come into play. I'm not just more attracted to women than men, I'm attracted to a wider variety of women in a wider variety of situations.
Most men in everyday situations aren't likely to attract me to a noticeable degree. In the past, those I did find attractive were always easily ignored. They might have made me a little uncomfortable, but I didn't think too much about why.
That has changed. Not only do I now understand what that uncomfortable feeling was, but getting comfortable with it has made me more aware of it. By simply recognizing, accepting and eventually enjoying same-sex attraction, I've come to notice it more often. It might even happen more often, now that I'm open to it. My taste in men has definitely broadened. Even so, the men who attract me are still a minority.
Happy with my choices
And that’s why coming out is not an easy decision for me. My bisexuality is not a major part of my identity that I’ve always known. It’s something interesting that I’ve learned about myself in recent years. It’s not a need I’ve denied, but an option I wasn’t aware of. I’m a little disappointed I didn’t know about it sooner, when I was free to experiment, but I don’t feel trapped in the wrong relationship. Superficial attraction is one thing, but a marriage is built on deeper compatibility, which I’ve never doubted my wife and I have.
Coming out, for me, is just about being fully who I am, without shame, without hiding things from people close to me. As someone who is neurodivergent (autistic), I’ve spent most of my life hiding all sorts of quirks, compulsions, anxieties and passions in order to fit in, and I regret that. I’ve been in a closet before, and it’s not a place I want to be.
What is keeping me in this closet is the fear that my wife will take my coming out to mean more than it does. I’m not afraid of being rejected. She’s comfortable enough about other people’s sexuality that I’m not worried about that. I’m worried that her mind will always go to that familiar narrative of someone who is living a lie and looking for a change. She doesn’t see other women as competition, but would she think, on some level, that men offer things that she can’t? I’m afraid of a misunderstanding that results changes I don’t want.
The irony of this is not lost on me. I haven’t come out because I don’t think people understand the sort of bisexual I am. I don’t fit the narrative they know. But that’s never going to change unless more bisexuals like me do come out and tell a different story. The bottom line is that while coming out might be helpful to bisexuals in general, it would have modest benefits for me personally. The risks, on the other hand, are significant.
So here I am, not really liking the closet in which I find myself, but not finding it too uncomfortable either. I'm just not enough of a gambling man to open the door. But I will eventually do it. Writing about my experience is a small step toward that end, making people just a little bit more aware that bisexuals like me exist. I've opened the door a crack.
One of these days, I’m going to step out, but not today.
