I’ll be the first to admin a slew of embarrassing things I’m fond of; I think One Direction songs are pretty darn catchy (So much so that I once tried to form an all-pastry chef cover band called One Confection. No one joined), I knit when I’m stressed, I almost exclusively clean my house to the Blackout album by Britney Spears (and I do it in heels, because I can), and I own a number of volumes of Carmen Electra’s Strip Tease, and one time I fell of a chair trying to do a number.
I openly admit to these things, even though I’m probably lame for doing them. But I do something else, something which I never thought to be particularly embarrassing, that, evidently, a large group of people are weary of – sometimes, I date bisexuals.
I’m not the patron saint of bisexual dating, because I used to be one the above people, and I’m here to apologize for being that way once upon a time.
Today I was catching up on an episode of Glee, and an interaction took place between Santana & Dani, in which Santana told her that her last relationship ended simply by saying “well, she was a bisexual.” No discussion afterwards, no eyebrows raised; that was the reason given.
If you are dating an openly bisexual person, and the relationship goes south, don’t say something like that. Don’t imply that their sexuality, which for the sake of this argument is one that both parties are aware of, ended the relationship. If a person leaves you for another person, well, that can be a heartbreaking situation, but if you say it’s because they’re bisexual, I immediately believe that you were the person in the wrong. If a bisexual person leaves you for a person of the opposite sex, I think that’s a perfectly natural thing. Don’t call them something terrible because of it.
I suppose what I’m trying to say is that we all need to be bigger people when we open our mouths, whether we’re hurting or not. And, furthermore, try to understand the person that you’re with, if you don’t, it’ll never work – no matter who or what they are, and you’ll learn the hard way like me.
I once dated someone, a very lovely, adorable, wildly attractive person a long time ago. When we started getting together, she was with a lovely, albeit awkward, sports-minded (and not the sports I most enjoy, namely polo, cycling, and badminton) gentleman who she eventually left for me. We had a fantastic time together, and I’m both pleased and disheartened to say I’ve grown so much since them, because while I tend to think of myself as a generally rather accepting person, I was not when it ended with them. You see, when she left her boyfriend, I convinced myself that I’d not only beaten him, but all men – at that particular period in time, I suppose I had. But when it ended, I was one of the people that turned around and said things about them being a bisexual, and I thought that was okay, because everyone laughed, or nodded, or what have you. The same people that helped me after that relationship ended up shaping the way I spoke about bisexual people, and I spoke that way until I was corrected during an unfortunate circumstance.
Since then, I’ve dated, fallen in love with, and seen a number of bisexual people, and I can safely say I don’t particularly care about the gender of who they’re with now. I can say this because I’m sure they’re not going in to the relationship with this other person because of me, possibly the exact opposite, actually. “I’m dating you because once I dated Lauren!” is not an interaction I imagine people have often, or ever, with their new love interest, because who I am, and my sexuality, has absolutely no bearing on theirs.
Now, let’s bring this back to the apology portion I mentioned above. I am sorry. I’m sorry for every time I made you out to be only your sexuality. I’m sorry for whipping my head around when someone yells “faggot” or “dyke” or “tranny”, but not when someone says something derogatory about bisexuals. And I’m sorry for not always being an ally in the past. I hope you’ll read this and accept my apology, even if you don’t sympathize with my actions, reactions, and inactions above. And if you’re reading this, and we were together and I said or did something to hurt you, I am deeply sorry.