The joys and chaos of coming out as a cool kid, non-binary and bisexual in your 20s

Exploring Gender and Sexual Orientation: A Journey of Self-Discovery

I remember at age 13, when I realized I was attracted to other boys, I was visibly relieved. It was like I was finally seeing clearly for the first time, like a huge weight had been released from my chest, and the sneezing that had been plaguing my sinuses for years had finally come out.

But if only I could have warned that kid about the complicated journey that ultimately led to their late-life bisexual awakening.

I use bisexuality, pansexuality, and coolness to varying degrees, but my coming out as those identities didn't happen overnight. It was gradual and took years. I noticed it in my teens and twenties, and often buried it deep.2021, when I was 27, I truly recognized that I was attracted to all genders when I realized I was non-binary.

I'm glad I took the time. Even today, the journey is still scary, though I'm relieved that I finally allowed myself to do it.

Love without words

I have found that "cool kid" is the most comfortable for me because it encompasses all facets of my identity: my non-binary gender, my sexuality, myself. For most of my adult life, I've exuded "coolness". Think Bell hooks, "Coolness is not about who you have sex with (which may be one dimension of it); but coolness is about the self, which is at odds with everything around it and must invent, create, and find a place where it can speak, thrive, and live.

Ideally, it's a broad blanket that needs no further explanation. Ironically, I've found the opposite to be true as it relates to my sexual orientation, often clarifying, "Yes, I mean, I'm essentially pansexual or bisexual."

I don't often think of myself as bisexual, although as I understand it - attraction to two or more genders - it applies. A few years ago, I fell into the idea that bisexuality was somehow transgender-exclusive, but I've since abandoned that misconception.

Fighting Impostor Syndrome

A friend of mine recently opened up to me about being bisexual and questioned which term she 'should' use. I told her that it was up to her, and that it would likely change as she continued her journey to find her place and people in the LGBTQ+ community.

I've written countless stories about LGBTQ+ issues and talked to people from all walks of life. I've been out for 16 years, and even before I came out as non-binary and cool, I considered myself a pretty fluid person. However, I almost feel like I've been lied to, like I'm an expert on bisexual themes.

I just haven't fully explored the breadth of my sexuality. I'm fascinated by people of all genders on a daily basis, and I've shared many intimate experiences with non-males and people with vulvas - confirming that the signs I ignored for years were indeed correct.

However, I can count these experiences on one hand. I've never been with a woman, cis or trans, and while I am indeed a sexually oriented person, I find myself longing for a more holistic, emotionally intimate experience with a non-man. On a lighter note, as I look ahead to my 30th birthday next month, exploring new parts of myself is often very confusing.

I'm not binary gender, but I know I'm often seen as a somewhat feminine cisgender male homosexual, even in cool spaces. I can't speak for anyone, of course, but I think most non-males just think I'm not interested in them.

When I (try to) flirt with women and people of non-binary genders, it feels completely different. I love being with gay and cool men, but I'm very good at handling sex and relationships with them. I grew up with a deep understanding of masculinity, and I'm eager to break that bond.

I've heard someone once describe bisexual attraction as a feeling of "oohs" and "aahs" referring to different genders. For me, I have a much softer feeling of non-male attraction, like I don't even need (or want) to approach it that aggressively. I want to lie in bed and talk, cuddle and watch movies, hold hands, talk to each other and share everything.

Sexual intimacy is obviously a factor in this, but after years of conforming to what most men want from me in our relationship (which is basically just sex, with a few exceptions), I see these other components as part of a broader connection and intimacy.

Finding My Sapphire Energy

I don't identify as a man or a woman. My sense of gender is fluid, sometimes non-existent, sometimes a strange enigma that encompasses all of these, or transcends the idea of gender altogether - though I know more about women and femininity than anything else. I've always felt more aligned with my girlfriends, and I think my potentially intimate relationships with non-males are in some ways lesbian.

To me, this makes perfect sense, but I'm not sure it does to others.

I remember recently attending a speed dating event at Honey's, a cool new bar in Los Angeles. The night was dominated by women, lesbians and other female performers.

We have two wristbands to choose from, one color indicates that we are looking for friends and the other color indicates that we are looking for something more. I chose to wear both. As I walked into the back room for my round, I found myself drawn to many of the people I talked to, and while everyone was friendly and engaged, it was clear that I wasn't going to make a more intense connection that night.

I understand. I have the right to choose my preferences, and others have the right to choose theirs.

I embody my non-binary gender, but my gender expression is ubiquitous-sometimes more masculine, sometimes more feminine, usually a mix of androgyny. I am not a woman; I am not transgender. I realize that many lesbians may not be attracted to me. I still had a good night. Once I adjusted my expectations to a more platonic level, I met a lot of great people - and I'm still talking to some of them.

Feelings don't just come up. I don't know how to explain the fact that no matter how I'm acting on a given day, I feel more feminine than anything else, or that I recognize that when it comes to how I show up in the world and own it, I still have male privilege, even though it's not reflective of what I'm going through.

However, I did have some wins this summer.

Embrace Relationship Anarchy

At a rave in August, a couple of cute girls asked me for a light. I was told I was passionate. I thought about it for a few days afterward. I'm used to compliments from guys, but hearing it from a girl hit me hard. Part of me wanted to ask her to dance, but I've always been conscious of my body, my perceived gender - I didn't want to cross the line with her compliments.

Maybe she can dance? I should have asked. Maybe I just don't know how to flirt with women, especially since most of the heterosexual messages I internalized as a child came from aggression, dominance, and masculinity.

Just a few weeks ago, a lady took her first step. As I danced, I saw that she kept looking at me with her eyes. It was a special look, a definite sparkle in her eyes. She told me I was sexy and we started dancing together. She touched my breasts and hips, I put my arms around her shoulders, and eventually they reached her hips.

I'll admit, I felt awkward and didn't always know where to go next, but it was awesome. She was cute and super friendly and we danced off and on all night.

I don't think this universal experience is unique or explicitly related to my gender. Non-binary gender may add another dimension, but it feels more like what it's like to explore later in life any major identity realization that you thought you had conquered in adolescence.

This summer I spoke with another friend who is divorcing her husband, in part because she realized she might be more attracted to women. Our chats were like a ping-pong table, bringing together different perspectives and making us realize how exciting and confusing this element of ourselves can be after lurking for so long.

Many of us bury elements of our identity simply because the destructive nature of conformity norms and the incredibly limiting shackles that come with them prevent us from realizing our full selves and full potential.

I'm so grateful to be living in this time - even though it's a very challenging time for the LGBTQ+ community - which allows us to explore and pursue whatever narrative suits us. I'm so grateful to the Gen Xers and Baby Boomers I saw on TikTok during the epidemic who helped me do the same.

If the last few years of exploring my gender, sexuality, polyamory, and relationship anarchy have taught me anything, it's that these things are much more fluid than we're often taught, and that we need to give ourselves grace as we explore uncharted territory. We just need to move forward in the direction that feels right, knowing that we will find our people and our path when we want it.

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