I'm A Lesbian Who's Attracted To Men

The first time someone called me a lesbian (to my face) was in the sixth grade. I don't remember what I did to deserve it. I do remember the sound of one of my fellow classmates screaming it at me across the playground. I also remember the sound of the other kids laughing and the shame that it sent through my body. That word, I learned, was not something I wanted people to call me again.

I grew up in a pretty conservative house. We attended church twice a week. In Sunday school, I learned all about Adam and Eve. God made Adam in his image. Eve was the original sinner. This, I think, was the basis of my attraction to men. Women were inherently broken and, as ordained by God, needed a man to be whole. Or, at least, that's what they were telling me.

But religion shouldn't solely carry the burden of my mistake sexuality. Let's be honest, most of it came from pop culture. I was an adult when I first saw a film starring a woman that wasn't about her relationship with a man.

Even in "empowering" movies (like Legally Blonde, Little Women, and Easy A) the final triumph was a man. In my eyes, a man's desire for me was the ultimate success. Having a successful relationship with a man was the end-all-be-all of a life.

I became interested in boys. Really, I became interested in boys taking an interest in me. This is when things get a little bit dark in my history with guys, so proceed with caution.

To be blunt, my father could be a very brutal and oftentimes outright harmful man to me and my siblings growing up. My relationship with him very much depended, in my mind, on making him proud and gaining his approval. I felt like I needed to earn his love through my taste in movies, or political beliefs, or knowledge of the bible.

When I looked for boys to have crushes on, I found that I was most attracted to the boys that treated me the worst. In fact, the biggest crush on a boy that I've ever had was on my bully. He made fun of me relentlessly, which only made my obsession with making him like me more intense.

Even though I craved his approval more than anything, I still didn't want to be with him. Honestly, the thought of being with anyone at that point in my life made me uncomfortable. For a short time, I even thought I was asexual.

The reason why I felt this way is clear to me now, though. The idea of sex with men naturally repulsed me. The idea of sex with women was something that I repulsed me because of social conditioning.

My crushes of men and women have always been incredibly different. While my crushes on men have made me feel sick to my stomach, my crushes on women had the opposite effect. They made me excited. Giddy, even.

When I dated my first boyfriend, I can say with complete clarity that I was in love with him. He was (and still is) the most radiant, positive, beautiful person that I have ever met. He was the kind of partner that I really needed. I can also say with complete clarity that I wasn't sexually attracted to him, even though I knew that I should be. I even remember saying this to my best friend at the time. I love him, I said, but I just don't feel that way about him.

In retrospect, I know exactly why I wasn't sexually attracted to him: he was kind. I'm only sexually interested in men because I think that I should feel uncomfortable. I deserve poor treatment.

When I decided that it was socially acceptable for me to be bisexual, I started being more open to dating women. Being with women was scary for other reasons. With another woman, I don't feel the ache in my chest telling me that I'll never be good enough. I don't leave the encounter thinking that the other person secretly hates me. I take their word when they tell me that they love me. It's a beautiful and sometimes terrifying feeling. Knowing that someone loves you is scary. But it's a good kind of scary.

A few days ago, when I figured all this out about myself, I felt a variety of emotions. I felt grief for the years lost and the pain that I'd put myself through. I feared others seeing me as abnormal or less than a woman who dates men. But more than anything, I felt so much fucking relief. Saying the words out loud, letting myself hear them, was like ripping off a 21-year-old bandaid. The skin underneath could finally breathe after all that time in the dark.

So, I guess all this is to say that all my school-yard bullies were right. I am, in fact, a lesbian. I thought that I deserved to feel uncomfortable for so long that I ended up using men as a form of self-harm. But I've decided that I'm done with it. I deserve happiness.