queer advice #51: bisexual FOMO
"...everyone I’ve talked to, family and friends and even my therapist, have all suggested (some not so gently) that I should 'only' date people who aren’t cis men"
Here’s another queer advice column for your weekend. This question is from a confused bisexual who wants to date women and other not-cis men, but is encountering a lot of roadblocks.
If you’re new to this newsletter or catching up after a break, there have been so many good questions lately!! Check out: ”I'm a 33-year-old dirty slut who loves to be alone and go to bed at 10 pm” and "It's so rare that I find someone that I'm interested in, and when I do, it's never great." If you’re gay and have a problem of your own, send it my way :)
I will send out a new Gen Q tomorrow morning. I was in Wisconsin earlier this week and got behind on writing. Too much spread cheese!!
xo,
Maddy
Hi Maddy. I adore your work. I am a bisexual (she/they) who’s really struggling with internalized biphobia and setting really high expectations for myself when it comes to relationships. For example, I am already wondering if I’m queer enough to write to you.
Firstly: I’m 27, I’ve known I was queer and came out when I was 15. I’ve been in a string of long-term relationships with cis men for the last five years, with only a couple of scattered months in between. One of them was an open relationship, but the lion’s share of my sexual experience has been with cis men. I have way more desire to sleep with folks who aren’t cis men, and I’ve had some wonderful experiences, but I’ve never had a committed (or open) relationship with anyone but cis men. I’m already combatting the voice in my head that says binary thinking isn’t helpful when it comes to people but I’m hoping this is at least helpful for advice purposes.
I recently ended a 6 month relationship with a cis man who I really loved which, for a number of reasons, wasn’t working. One of which was the same reason I think none of my straight-passing relationships has worked: bisexual FOMO (thinking I’m missing out by dating a straight dude). I am taking time to heal but everyone I’ve talked to, family and friends and even my therapist, have all suggested (some not so gently) that I should “only” date people who aren’t cis men (I am paraphrasing slightly) going forward.
Then comes the tricky part that I experience whenever I’m single, which I worry will end up repeating itself: the dating app algorithms see my bi ass and say, “hey, you only want to have threesomes, right?” or, “we’re going to sneak a man in there even if you have your settings to Women Only (more binary thinking) because wow this one man really likes you!!” To get away from the nightmare of being single, I find someone nice who is a cis man, because that is what I’ve done for years and that is what is comfortable.
I already feel othered enough in the queer community because of my relationships, despite the media I consume or the way I dress or the things I want being assuredly not straight since high school. I think I fear further rejection and ending up doing the same shit I’ve always done because it’s easy. I am also having a bit of a gender time (I just deleted “woman” in my description of who I am because I honestly hardly feel like one), which I think is making this whole queer identity thing tricky to say the least.
My question: how do I break the cycle of compulsive heterosexuality? How do I feel more queer? How do I seek out queer relationships without… appropriating lesbian culture? Am I queer enough to use Lex? Am I just getting in my own way? Most importantly how do I stop caring what others think about me and just live my life and fuck and love who I want?
Thanks for reading all this and again thanks for what you do.
An Actual Confused Bisexual, 27
If you’re into men and enjoy dating them, that’s not compulsory heterosexuality. That’s you being bisexual. What you’re experiencing is that there’s an entire infrastructure for dating men that you know and understand. When you attempt to pivot to dating women and other not-cis men, your expertise isn’t as useful. It’s like if you grew up in New York taking public transit, and now you’re in rural Minnesota and the only way to get around is by car. That’s a weird metaphor, I know. I’m not saying that it’s lonely or sad to be queer, I love Minnesota. My favorite bird is the loon. I just mean that compared to New York, rural Minnesota is sparsely populated. As a newcomer, it might feel like everyone has lived here forever and is already enmeshed in a tight-knit group of friends and lovers. The vibes are insular. If you’re ever going to feel at home here, you’re gonna have to to stick out some awkward and lonely times.
The next thing I want to say is that there’s nothing wrong with not understanding your gender or what your bisexuality looks like in action. You’re not taking anything from “real“ queer people when you go on Lex of all apps. Wanting to smash women is not appropriating lesbian culture. I am a goblin and this newsletter is self-published from my bed, where I also eat pizza. I have no authority to deem you, or anyone, queer enough. And even if I did, there’s enough queerness to go around. The kind of self-discovery you’re after takes time. Be patient with yourself.
In your question, you’re looking to everyone from potential romantic partners to your therapist to dating app algorithms to validate your sexuality. The contradictory thing about gender and sexuality is that only you can define these things for yourself, but aligning yourself with certain labels or identities is an inherently social project. It impacts who you date, how you’re perceived in the world, and has the potential to bring you into community. And hopefully your queerness is political and puts you in solidarity with marginalized and oppressed people around the world. When you allow others to tell you who you are, you give them undeserved power over your identity and peace-of-mind. That’s not healthy—for as many people as you meet who will support and love you, you’ll meet countless others who simply don’t have the capacity.
You write that being single is “a nightmare,” so you date men because it’s the fastest, easiest way to land someone. You loved your last boyfriend, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that you should be with a woman. The way you describe dating makes it sound like a terrible burden, or something you must do or else face dire consequences. I feel like these all stem from the same issue: you don’t know who you are, so you rely on other people to tell you. You’re jumping from relationship to relationship instead of working on yourself and until you figure out who you are, you’ll never be able to chill and appreciate your partner for who they are. You’ll always feel like something is missing. I know you’re already taking a break from dating, but what would happen if you gave yourself one year to get really comfortable with being alone? What if you dated yourself, so to speak? When you’re trying to change a behavior, it’s essential to give yourself artificial constraints and rules.
The thing about romantic relationships is that they are are volatile and emotionally charged. This is especially true of first queer relationships. Ask anyone who’s gone through it—first queer relationships tend to be fucking bonkers. A relationship is not going to provide you with a safe, stable place to incubate your sense-of-self and queerness. Instead, you need friends and community, especially with other bisexuals. I promise the more bisexuals you surround yourself with, the less insecure and overwhelmed you’ll feel by your own bisexuality. I also think it’s really easy to uphold sex and dating as these big, scary tests you have to pass. When really, all you’re doing is attempting to connect with another person. You have to use your words and feel your way through it. It’s never helpful to put the people you date or sleep with on a pedestal, or assume they have answers and wisdom that you do not. Everyone, everyone is struggling with their own insecurities and inner turmoil, especially if they’re hot and gay.
Finally, I’m getting the sense that you’re confusing who you are as a person with your gender and sexuality. For a lot of us, being able to claim certain identities is really powerful and transformative. Stepping out into the world as non-binary and bisexual can be a gateway to community, joy, and self-expression. At the same time, there’s so much more to you. Like I love my whole dyke thing, but I’m also creative. I can make anyone laugh. I have deep reserves of love and patience for behaviorally-challenged rescue dogs. If some aspects of your identity feel difficult to comprehend at this moment, there are so many other parts of yourself to explore. Are you living your values? Do you like your job? Are there parts of the world you want to visit? If you’re someone who wants to eventually settle down and start a family, are there things you want to achieve before then? If you’re at any kind of loose ends in life, it can be clarifying to put yourself in a situation where you’re a total beginner. Ideally, something esoteric and intimidating like glass-blowing or circus school. I am serious. Take a glass blowing class and when it’s over you’ll look back and think, “3 months ago I didn’t even know the first thing about glass and now I really know my way around a blow hose. Plus, I have all these new friends.“ It’s also something to do with your time and energy that’s NOT dating, which is essential when you’re trying to get to know yourself.
I know I wrote a lot. tl;dr focus on cultivating your queer community and the rest will fall into place. Plus if you have friends to set you up, you won’t even need apps.
Small point, but I would humbly submit to this person that even when you are a lesbian who the algorithm has no reason to think would have an interest in men, Tinder still throws a lot of straight couples and men in the mix! The podcast ICYMI did an episode about this at some point. So do not take that as an algorithmic judgment upon you
Aw, I love this question so much and love your answer. Being bisexual is hard but once I learned that it’s hard in similar ways for lots of us I was like OHHHHH I’M FINE. I haven’t figured it all out at 45 but am now much more confident that all my relationships are queer relationships and me being into bad television is also important to who I am as a queer person. :)