My first gay club experience

In the summer, I had an amazing time with my lesbian friend. I visited her in Aberdeen, and she took me out to my first gay bar. She, her girlfriend, her gay best friend, and I enjoyed a night of drinking, dancing, and all out gaying it up.

I don't go out clubbing a lot, but just being in a place where the point is to be LGBT was so much fun. I wasn't there to hook up, so that pressure was off, and everyone was friendly, and some of the guys were just so camp! It was so much fun.

Unsurprisingly, the best part of the night was when Born This Way came on the dance floor. Everyone in the club surged onto what was actually quite a small space, and then let loose. I felt a joyous connection to everyone in that room, totally accepted, totally understood; it was breathtaking.

Plus seeing my drunk, butch friend grind with a bloke was just plain funny.

It felt different to my limited experience with 'normal' clubs. It wasn't overexcited, or brash, or even scary for little ol' me the noobie. It was jumping, and lively, and loud sure; but in the spirit of all being a family, a minority proving its right to exist by having a damn good time just as we are - flamboyant, passionate and downright sexy!

Do my colleagues know I'm bi? Convergence of attitudes.

I can never tell how much people have picked up about my sexuality until my relationship with them reaches quite a high level of familiarity and intimacy. My close friends talk about my bisexuality as casually as I do, but the people that spring to mind are my colleagues. And I don't feel it right to just come out and ask them if they know about it.

I've worked casually part time at a theatre as a steward for almost three years now, since I was sixteen, and I think that my orientation is well established in the communal knowledge of me. However, I cannot be sure of this, for no one ever brings it up. And I don't mean in an obvious way, I mean in the way my friends do; if we're talking about relationships, referring to me about both possible genders of partner. My colleagues only talk of men, the opposite to me.

I presume that they are aware of my being not straight but they cannot be sure, for I have not used 'bi', 'bisexual', or 'bisexuality' in the presence of most of them, because it is unnecessary; I cannot be sure of their opinions of same-sex relations, plus I think it would put people on edge.

This is unfortunate, but true nevertheless. More so for bisexuals than gays and lesbians I think, because more people have come to terms with homosexuality than bisexuality, because at least they can relate to homosexuality as a polar opposite to heterosexuality, like the reverse of a coin. Bisexuals are like the coin spinning and not landing on a side. Hm, that's quite a good analogy really, in some ways at least.

So, they are afraid essentially. To step on toes, as if it's a sensitive subject, or of getting something wrong and offending me, like many people do around transgender people. And I'm not sure there's much I can do about it without being overly dramatic and coming off as egotistical.

But I don't think I do have to do anything. Because of the infrequency of my working there, and it not always being the same people, I am never going to have closer relationships with them than I do now I reckon. And it doesn't seem a problem; I have only noticed it because...well, I suppose it's almost like I myself am not quite come to terms with it.

Not that I doubt my feelings, or the reality of being bi. Just that, because I live in a heterosexist world, where I am and will always be the minority and different, I find it hard not to feel the same unease about it when talking to my colleagues, as if I agree that I am not normal.

But thinking about it, when I'm talking to my friends, or thinking about it alone now, I don't feel that unease. So I suppose it's not actually me; it's a subconscious reaction. I've studied a similar thing in language; it is human nature that when they meet someone different to them, and they want to be liked, they modify their language, accent and such, as well as behaviour, to seem more like the other person - say if a Scouse met a Cockney, and they wanted to become friends. The Scouse's accent would become less pronounced and they might use inflections and words that are more Cockney, and the Cockney's accent would be dampened, and they might use inflections and words that are more Scouse. It's called linguistic convergence.

I think that I am subconsciously taking on an artificial version of what I perceive to be other's attitudes towards my bisexuality, in a similar attempt to narrow the gap between our differences. And it is exacerbated by the fact that I don't even know how much they know.

Ah well.

Telling new people that I'm bisexual

I'm moving out in a few weeks. Leaving my parents house for the start of higher education. I'll be meeting new people, living with some, working with most, and generally starting a new phase of life.

There is a lot to be scared of, including living alone on a budget, the workload, making friends, a new city that is so big and sprawling as London is. As a bisexual, I have the added drama of being scared of abuse or rejection because of my orientation. As a Christian bisexual, I've got even more to deal with as I want to find a new church to become a regular member of the congregation on Sundays, and I have to find the right one that will have no problem with my sexuality.

The latter is easier to deal with, as I can up sticks and leave a church if I find they are against homosexuality and the like. The former however, is trickier, as the people I will be in my accommodation with and on the course with, are people that I'm stuck with.

Luckily, it is drama school, and there is likely to be a slightly better ratio of straight to not than at other small specialist schools. My biggest concern is my own conduct, how I go about telling people and maybe having to deal with bad reactions. I have no precedent or example to follow. I don't want to be known as 'The Bisexual One' or keep it a secret. I have confidence, I'll manage, but that does not stop me from being scared.

Telling new people will become less daunting. My discomfort comes from the same place all my anxiety for meeting new people comes from - I'm a young adult, still growing into the person I will one day be, so my confidence in all aspects of myself is in a state of early maturity. I'm not saying I don't accept my bisexuality, it's just...this is very hard to articulate. Anyway, as my surety in who I am as an adult solidifies, so will telling people I'm bi become less scary, and dealing with bad reactions easier.

I know that; but I'm facing my first big test, and I need it to go well, so it's scary, and daunting, and I just have to barrel through, and always be the bigger man, however hard that is.

Being asked if I'm bisexual

Today I was on a long car journey with a group of people I was good friends with, but from a professional relationship background. So they had all heard me over the last few months occasionally reference ex-gfs and the like, but I'd never used the word 'bisexual' specifically, it had just never come up.

One of them I knew less well, having spent much less time with her, and one particular occasion when I mentioned my ex-gf, she just said straight out "Do you consider yourself bisexual then?" or some similar, plain phrasing.

And I was overcome with gratitude. This is just the simple answer to many of the social awkward moments that can come from other people not being bold enough to clear up my orientation. Because I'm not going to announce it or something, why should I have to? And it's not my fault the opportunity didn't arise for me to clear it up neatly. That particular fact about me was dealt with easily and painlessly, as it should be.

Being asked plainly was not insulting, or rude, it was a neutral enquiry, and so I was able to the just "Yes," and that was that, like asking if I had pets! And it would have been fine if she had asked "Are you gay?" because it would again be simple to say "No, I'm bisexual".

Furthermore, I can accept that the majority of people don't meet bisexuals that they know undoubtedly to be so, and so are a little intrigued. It didn't happen on this occasion, but she may have been interested to know more about my being bisexual, and to a certain point I'll happily answer other questions that might have followed (obviously letting them know when they had reached a boundary, which I generally draw at questions that I wouldn't be expected to answer if I were straight).

So this incident made me realise that we should be unafraid to simply ask someone their orientation, without it being misread as aggressive or nosy, and that I am very proud of my bisexuality.

Celebrity bisexuals

In an age where every Gok Wan, Louis Spence and Stephen K. Amos is not a novelty, and we are no longer shocked by Sue Perkins, Jane Lynch and Wanda Sykes (I couldn't find any more lesbian celebrities who are British!) I see more media attention on bisexuals for being bisexual. Not a lot, but they have replaced articles about gays being gay.

This post was inspired by an article in the Sunday Times where I read the revelation (to me, that is) that D H Lawrence was bisexual.

Some celebrities who are out bisexuals include
Cynthia Nixon
Jessie J
Lady Gaga
Fergie
Duncan James
Megan Fox
Giorgio Armani
Pete Burns
Alan Cumming
Anna Paquin
Drew Barrymore
Pink
Angelina Jolie
Andy Dick
David Bowie
Carol Ann Duffy
Fergie
Craig Revel Horwood
Drea de Matteo

And those only rumoured to be (or may be those who have experimented/be bicurious) include
Lindsey Lohan
Errol Flynn
Kathy Najimy (look her up, you'll recognise her)
Dusty Springfield
Nelly Furtado
Florence Welch (Florence and the Machine)
Christina Aguilera
Hans Christian Anderson
Sammy Davis Jr
Freddy Mercury
Laurence Olivier
Robert Downey Jr

The wife of Ellen Degeneres

I read an article in The Times magazine about the wife of Ellen Degeneres, not because I care about them as celebrities, but simply because it was about a lesbian couple.

I'm not sure if this is a good thing or a bad thing, the fact that I only read it for that and no other reason. I suppose it makes sense that I would read an article that has relevance to me, but I see it as indicative of why we LGBT+ struggle. We will never get to the point of being the same as the majority hetero, because being non-hetero is fundamentally being different, a minority. An article about lesbians will eventually become accepted, but always be an exception in a popular, mainstream magazine.

I don't let myself get sad about that. One day we will be accepted as easily as any other minority, like gingers, twins, and any number of other groups, I just can't think of them off the top of my head. I can think of lots of minorities that aren't accepted easily though, which is sad, but shows just how easily other minorities are accepted, so that they are not prominent enough for me to register.

Or something. I'm not sure if that makes sense. But anyway, we should shrive to gain that easy acceptance, but at the same time not get so caught up in a pessimistic contemplation on how the world doesn't work the way we want, because if you did that for everything, you'd never enjoy life, even as it is.

So being part of a minority is a chance to show the world that your life is going to happy and fulfilling, whatever gets thrown in your way, within the world you live in. And enjoy the exceptions in popular culture when they crop up.

The Small Mention

The mention of your sexuality, even in a small way, can put an edge on a conversation. You may not be sure how the other person feels about non-heteros, or you may not have known them for long, or you may have a more formal relationship with them. In a relaxed environment with friends who accept you for who you are and embrace your sexuality as a way of life that is simply different to theirs, you can talk about same-sex ex's til kingdom come, but other times, it cools the air. Sometimes even in a friendly environment, they are all hetero and feel uncomfortable even if they have no problem with you being bi.

You probably didn't want to bring up bisexuality as a topic, or even draw attention to it. I find myself telling anecdotes as part of most conversations, and they may be about an ex-girlfriend, and I feel no shame about referring to her as 'my ex-girlfriend'. I feel like I'm lying, to them and to myself, if I call her anything different.

But the key is getting the balance, between being yourself and letting them save face. You need a bit of both, which isn't an alien concept of course. Don't emphasise the fact that the person you're mentioning is the same sex. Don't use phrases like 'because I'm bi', or 'being bisexual' or similar. But also don't mumble 'my ex-girlfriend', or whatever you would prefer to say. Say it, and move on with the point of the anecdote, or whatever the reason you're talking at all. It's their problem, and you only have an obligation to not insult them, not to pretend like theirs is an opinion you agree with.

It doesn't have to be hard. You don't lose anything, and while they may not be okay for a moment, it will pass and they can ignore it as they wish. If they bring it up, if they pick on it and start a conversation like that, it isn't your fault, so don't feel any blame.