Bi Talk With My Little Brother

My "little brother" (the druggie neighbor's baby that my family and I raised) wanted more pants to wear to school, so my mom got him some really stylish women's pants. (He does not know what section of the store they came from.) They're pink and purple, but we're calling them red and blue, because his biological dad, whom he lives with at least half the time,  isn't very enlightened, and we don't want Cody to be ashamed. He loves his new pants! He also wants tennis shoes that are hot pink and black.

I think he would dress a lot more feminine and artistic if he could, at his house.

A few weeks ago we had a great conversation, while I was picking him up, about a kid who in his class who said he was bisexual, and dating a girl, but "called her a boy," as Sam put it.

I asked him if he knew I was bisexual, and he quickly said, "Yeah, and I don't mean anything against it..." I told him I knew that, and asked him not to tell his biological family because I don't know if they will let him come over if they know. He said he didn't tell anyone. I told him I didn't care, as long as he didn't tell his other family.

I also said that especially at that age, people might still be figuring out their gender or who they like. (He's 13.) Maybe the "girl" was actually a trans boy, or still figuring it out?

I don't know what Cody's clothing choices mean, but I was surprised that he brought up the bisexual boy, and I think this means he knows he can talk to me about important things like gender and sexuality.

He always likes to talk to me, when I'm driving him places! :)

It was a really heartwarming conversation, and I hope he can just be himself, whatever he is (if "he" is accurate), as he gets older.

He once described being gay as "It's just another personality." He was about ten at the time. It was very cute. All of this makes me wonder if we will make even more social progress, as both his and my generation (I'm twelve years older than him) get older. I don't doubt that there is probably some homophobic bullying in his small rural middle school, but I have also seen a rainbow heart sign in someone's front yard, in the tiny little town where he has his school and we have our post office box. The future is bleak--but it is also bright.

Did I "Wish" Myself Gay?

 (I use the term "gay" loosely, since I am technically bisexual, but I don't completely like that word, because I wonder if being with a man will make me wish I wasn't "missing out." I often think of "gay" as all but the T in LGBT.)

I always knew that other girls were different than me, and I always wondered what was wrong with them.

Now I am really excited that I get to be gay. I find myself literally thinking, "I can't believe I get to be gay! I get to kiss and be with a girl someday! This is awesome!"
But the thing is...if I am so excited that I "get to" be gay, doesn't that mean that I secretly wished I was gay all along? And if I secretly wished I was gay all along, doesn't that mean that I actually was gay, and was actually wishing that I could be with a girl?
I remember my mom recounting to me a survival show that she watched with my dad, because he likes them, and that's how they spend time together. (I know this is a second-hand account, but I can't be bothered to try to look up the show or the clip.) The man who was alone in the wilderness started complaining about women rejecting him and breaking his heart. "I wish I could be gay!" he exclaimed mournfully. "But alas, I am not gay!"
And it makes me wonder, why does he wish he was gay? To be with men? Well, I've got good news for you, buddy! You're at least bisexual! :)
I've also got bad news: Men might be just as shitty as women.(Hint hint: You're a man--right? Are you sure you didn't give them a good reason to leave you?) Don't be sexist.

And it amazes me how many people still assume I want a man, even after I've discovered this part of myself. I guess they didn't get the memo. My mom says I don't give off "gay vibes" even at work among the conservatives, but in my mind, I walk through the world like a bull dyke. I already have a low voice and big, heavy feet. And I like my feet. Sometimes I even like my voice, except when it gets tired at work and cracks.
Do they think I am just clueless about makeup, too clueless to put any on? I sometimes wonder if my coworkers just think I'm a simpleton about being a traditional girl. Or maybe the receptionist, who is the most vocally conservative, thinks I don't believe makeup is modest enough to please God. I'm honestly surprised that old woman wears pants, even though she sometimes wears long skirts too.

Looking back, there are some things that probably should have given me a clue about my bisexuality. My jokes in church youth group about flirting with other girls. My grandmother calling me, "You little gay thing, you," when I joked about it with my family. Thinking that maybe someday, if I lost my husband, it might be fun to be an old lesbian feminist in a hippie commune. Thinking that stuff like that was just feminist sisterhood. Thinking it felt strange, the thought of being "the woman" in a relationship with a man--and sometimes it even felt strange to think of being with a man.
My body fooled me, because my feelings towards other girls didn't "feel" sexual, because it felt different than my feelings towards boys. It still does. It seems it took a while for the sexual feelings to catch up. Maybe I was just repressing something.
I have two different feelings, for two different binary genders, but that doesn't make either one less real or intense. I don't know if it means that I only feel romantic towards one gender or the other, or if it means something else. Or if it means anything at all. But I think it would be a shame, if I fell in love with a man, and then that was it--my chances of dating a woman would then drop to zero. And I do like some guys, sometimes very much. But how to tell a guy that he is not enough, or that he eventually won't be?
Dating a woman is on my bucket list. Because I can do that now! And I never realized, before three years ago, that I really, really wanted that. I wanted that chance. And now I have it.

I thought of my feelings for women as "sensual," and because I was distracted by boys, I didn't realize that I could be girl-crazy too. Now I'm in love with everybody, and since I'm an introvert and a very lazy dater, I'm not acting on any of it. Maybe after tax season, when I don't have to worry about learning my new job anymore.
It's a strange feeling, to stumble on something you never knew you wanted. I try to have a loose grip on my expectations of the future, because of the huge rainbow turn my life has taken. What else don't I know? It's like I'm at the mercy capricious, gay gods, who are laughing at me.
I love it, though. LGBT stuff provides endless learning, and through learning about others' lives and perspectives, I hope to learn more about myself. It's endlessly fascinating, and I never get tired of it. When I can resist the urge to argue with the homophobic thoughts that pop into my head, and just focus on good things--or deal with the grief that comes up, so that I can move on--I think it's really awesome to be gay.
Someday I'll know what comedian Wanda Sykes is talking about when she says, "Pussy makes you do crazy things." Someday I'll share my life with another crazy old cat lady--who isn't my mom. Somebody attractive. (My mom got really mad when I once used the phrase, "Like you, but attractive." Even though my mom and I share the same sense of humor, and almost all the same values, I'm afraid she has pretty much turned me off to curly hair or big boobs on skinny people. I don't want to think of my mom when kissing someone.)
Someday I can have an awesome life, centered mostly around women. My life is already more awesome than it was when I thought I was straight. It's like I wished for this all along.

Hello Again, And My Life Now

Hello, everyone. I know it's been a while since I've posted, but my new job as a tax preparer has been very trying emotionally, at least for me. It is the first job I have ever had that was "professional" in some capacity, and it involves both the IRS and other people's money. I couldn't even think of writing anything, before.
My nervousness is getting better, because my boss seems nice, and I am sort of used to dealing with clients now, though I still am sometimes afraid of looking incompetent or not knowing what to say to their questions.
I write sporadically, especially during tax season or other trying times. This is something I do for my hobby. I hope that everyone understands that even though I sometimes can't write, that doesn't mean that I've given up on my blog.

Every day now, my mom drops me off in her old van. I leave the queer books I've been reading on the way down, in the van, and take my "straight" books with me to read at lunch. I really love my Lesbrary, stocked carefully from books ordered online. This job even lets me order more than I would otherwise. But bringing them in might start a conversation that I'm not ready to have, especially with the conservative receptionist.
My mom calls me her favorite fruit, and reassures me that I don't give off "gay vibes," as I thought I did. I try to remember how straight girls act, from the time I thought I was one. But did I ever really know how straight girls acted? I always knew the other girls were different than me, and always wondered what was wrong with them.
My mom says that, unless I am attracted to someone in the office, I have nothing to worry about. Thankfully, the sign waver, a local celebrity, is a guy. He is attractive in a "dirty hippie" type way. And he is terribly nice to everyone. Probably an extrovert, when I am an introvert, but he could just go socialize without me. He seems to want to socialize with me, though, which I don't mind. He doesn't seem to smile at others in the office, as much as he smiles at me.
The conservative receptionist thinks I'm as religious as she is, because I was homeschooled. I assume she thinks that includes homophobia. Right now I just want to worry about learning my job, rather than correcting her.
She is one of the most materialistic people I have ever met. She literally gushes over any expensive-looking car in the parking lot, or if a client is dressed to show off wealth. This is just typical of conservatives, that I have met. And that I'm related to.

I just want comfortable clothes that I like, and a reliable car. If you have those things, you are already in a position to count your blessings. I have both those things, and I know how blessed I am.
I love my twenty-seven-year-old, hand-me-down car. I love all of my clothes, most of them bought at a thrift shop, when I was shopping probably too much. I have a lot of clothes, but I don't have any desire to buy any more. (At least, not ready-made clothes. I may make some clothes, or let my mother help me make them, because I like to be creative. But then I am very particular. I don't care about designer clothing.)

It feels good to write again, even if it is about little bits of this and that. I may do it some more, maybe even between now and the end of tax season. But it may be sporadic. I don't do well on regular writing schedules, and I think that should be considered okay by society, if it isn't already. So thank you for bearing with me.