the bisexual bind

bored of dating men but terrified of dating women

There are at least a handful of bi(phobic) tropes which have endured moves towards a more bi-friendly society:

1. The horny experimentalist and threesome enthusiast

2. The sexually confused closet homosexual

3. The bisexual woman in a relationship with a cis-het man (shouldn’t have biphobic undertones and yet somehow does)

People tend to tolerate numbers one and two – perhaps because their queerness is overt enough to be deemed “valid.” Number three is contentious and often sparks ridicule from both the queer and straight community. How can she be “gay” whilst in a heterosexual relationship? How can a woman really like other women and yet opt to be with a stinky cis-gendered, heterosexual man? When women are so beautiful? Why?

It’s not uncommon for bisexual women – like all other women – to express disdain for straight men. Misandry is in and rightly so. But the difference between bisexual women and lesbians or straight women is that many bi women will still choose to be with men (sexually or romantically). Bi women aren’t “stuck with” men like straight women – who all-too-often flippantly wish they were “into girls.”

Whilst part of the luxury of being a greedy bisexual is “having options,” we don’t choose who we love (either on an individual level, or on the broader level of gender). Throughout my adult life I have been the bi woman with a cis-gendered, heterosexual boyfriend. I haven’t even dated “femme” boys – only men in stem who would recoil at the idea of having their nails painted, or eyebrows plucked. I’m attracted to masculinity as much as I am femininity. My attraction to men is as much a part of my bisexuality as my attraction to women and other genders.

That being said, I have frequently described this summer as “painfully heterosexual” to friends. Since breaking up with my boyfriend, I have exclusively slept with and dated men. This is in spite of the fact that we were non-monogamous, so throughout our relationship I dated and slept with women. And before our relationship had even begun, I’d almost convinced myself that I was homoromantic and incapable of actually forming romantic attachments to men.

And it seems that, no matter how in love with or attracted to women I feel, I continue to fulfil this bisexual stereotype by ending up with men. This shouldn’t come as a surprise, when you consider that we’re primed and conditioned for heterosexual relationships. It’s all we saw on-screen and in books growing up. It’s all many of us ever know.

So it can feel impossible to extricate oneself from the restrictions of this heterosexual framework. Queer relationships might be technically available to bisexual women, but they can feel out-of-reach, daunting and obscured by the allure of straight-forward (pun intended), societally acceptable relationships. It feels like effort to scale this wall and venture into the unknown land that is queer relationships – especially when we have the easy familiarity of men to play house and fulfil gender roles with.

I don’t know who I’d be, what role I’d play in a lesbian relationship. This frightens me. With men, I know I am an object to behold, to covet – I can be their Manic Pixie Dream Girl, their muse, their trad-wife. I’ve learned to be comfortable in the male gaze. This isn’t healthy, but it’s familiar and it’s easy in its one-dimensionalness. I fear the parity of a lesbian relationship, having my intelligence and complexity matched by another woman.

I wonder how many of us date men because it feels easy. Because beyond my own internal feelings, there are extrinsic factors; the straight-passing privilege bi women with boyfriends have, who can commit acts of PDA with their partner without risk of heckling or hate crimes. We can marry our male partners anywhere in the world and start families with them with relative ease.

Although the world is becoming a better place for same-sex couples, heterosexual couples continue to be the privileged default. Envisioning a future beyond the suburban fairytale nuclear family we’ve been spoon-fed since birth requires an imaginative effort – one that lazy daters with attachment issues like myself don’t have the patience for.

Of course, all of this is underpinned by sweeping generalisations around gender and sexuality. I’m also aware that the sentiments I’ve expressed here may validate some of the suspicions lesbians have about bi women – that we are incapable of committing to queer relationships, because we have heterosexual relationships available to us.

To break free from this bisexual bind, I must be brave enough to venture into the unknown, the unscripted. I must also abandon the portion of my ego which demands to be stroked by men – often it’s hard not to bask in the male gaze, particularly as a femme woman. I know I date men for all the wrong reasons: familiarity, attention, social capital, (and funny stories). But at the moment it simply feels too scary to date anyone for the right reasons.

Unfortunately, I think I will lean into the support of my bisexual bind for a little while longer. I will remain happily captive in my heteronormative prison until further notice.