People often ask when I knew I was bisexual. What I assume they’re fishing for is my big queer revelation story. Did my gay awakening happen while I was at school? Was I dared to kiss a girl and liked it? Or did I realise after hours watching Shego relentlessly chase Kim Possible in her green and black jumpsuit?
Although looking back, any and all of these things could have sparked the gay gene. The disappointing truth is that there was no big moment for me. Any early crushes or yearning for anyone who wasn’t a man burrowed so deep into the part of my mind where taboo desires existed, that I couldn’t recognise them. But they laid there, dormant, too restricted to be active.
I didn’t truly let those feelings erupt until I was flirting with my 20s. Not to say there weren’t some cute little spurts along the way - a friendly kiss here, a nipple brush there. I would quietly exclaim that I was fruity when pressed on the subject.
I mean I have eyes! Men are beautiful but so is literally everyone else. Boobs are nice. Okay cool, vaginas smell good. But that’s not gay? Everyone likes soft lips. Right?