Relationships + Sexuality

While I've been fairly open about the whole thing on social media, I figured it was time to be blatantly, unmistakably clear with everyone: I am definitely not straight.

It's such a weird thing to be announcing to the world because, like, who cares?  But there's this stigma surrounding everyone who isn't straight, so let's just rip the band-aid off.  I'm not straight.  And I'm not a lesbian.  In fact, there's not a label that I'm 100% comfortable using.  I used to think I was straight and panromantic (a person who is romantically attracted to others but is not limited by the other's sex or gender / panromantics tend to feel that their partners' genders do little to define their relationships).  But over the past year or two, I started questioning those labels.

It started out when I surrounded myself with so many queer people on Twitter.  I didn't plan for it to happen or anything, but lots of the people I'd become friends with through the site, and later met in real life at comic conventions, turned out to be part of the LGBT+ community.  So their posts with hashtags involving the community would constantly be on my Twitter timeline, and it just felt sort of right to join in eventually.  It would be something like #LGBTladies or #LGBTteam and so on.  And although I wasn't totally sure I even was LGBT+, it just sort of felt right to be apart of it.  There was a period of time where I genuinely questioned whether I was faking it or not.  Like, "Am I trying to be apart of this just to do this thing with my friends?" Or "Is this really me?"

And to be perfectly honest, I didn't even really know the answer until summer of last year.  I'd attended a convention (of course this starts at a convention, duh) and there was a girl who I thought was pretty cool and we later found each other on Twitter.  And as I got to know her better, I realized it wasn't just me wanting to be her friend.  It was something more.

So this is a great place to pause for a well-deserved flashback: When I was in high school, I had this boyfriend, and when we broke up, it shattered me.  The aftermath was an uphill battle of completely re-discovering myself.  And it was so ridiculously obvious to me that I cared too much about everything.  It wasn't just the boy that I had gotten emotional over-- I was emotional all the time about every little thing.  And so I decided to put a mental effort towards becoming someone else: someone who was brave and fearless and cold and quiet and calculative and logical... and definitely someone who didn't need (or want) love.

There were boys who came after him, but they always liked me more than I liked them.  And then, of course, there were a couple boys here and there that I liked-- but, naturally, those were the ones who didn't feel the same.  And so it was always just easier to avoid all things involving a relationship.  My family learned to only ask questions about my love life if they wanted a dry joke back.  I was the girl who was stern and fiercely set in her anti-relationship ways.

Okay, back to where we were: So when this girl appeared out of nowhere, it took me by surprise.  Not even just because she was a girl, but because I actually liked someone as more than a friend. I wish I could put into words just how rare this is for me.  So I finally got over myself and my (super fucking intense) fear, and we started dating.  This was several months ago and, yes, we're still together.

So I guess, for the first time, this is me telling the public: Yes, I have a girlfriend.

I think, maybe, I'm bisexual (someone who is sexually attracted to both men and women), but I just don't know.  For those of you who don't know too much about the LGBT+ community, there are a crazy amount of labels to pick from.  It's just that none of them feel like me.  It's super odd.  Whether it's "bisexual" or "pansexual" or "demisexual" or whatever else... they all feel semi-right.  Kinda like the way a new pair of shoes feels before they're broken in properly.  It's just that my "coming out" wasn't really a "coming out" at all.  It doesn't feel like I used to be this one person to the world and now I'm this other person.  I still feel the exact same.  Nothing earth-shattering.  Nothing groundbreaking.  It's just a new thing I've learned about myself.  It's like, if I found a new birthmark somewhere, or if I randomly discovered I was good at jumping rope.  I'm not new or different-- just... me.

I don't have this amazing story like so many of the incredible people I've met.  I didn't have to hide through years of my childhood in the closet.  I didn't know when I was 10 that I wasn't like everyone else.  It's just a thing that's become part of me; however, little things from the past do make a lot of sense now.  For example, I read this book in middle school where the character wondered if she was having romantic feelings towards a friend (who was also a girl.)  And that book made me wonder that exact same thing about this girl I was close with at the time.  I'd be hanging out with her and trying to take mental notes of my odd trains of thought.  I remember thinking that I'd like to kiss her.  The feelings faded, of course, and the book ended.  And I moved on.  It's just funny, looking back and knowing all of this about myself now.

I also never really planned on a blog post about this or anything.  But last night, I saw a movie called "Love, Simon" (please go see this movie, you guys), and it gave me this idea.  For those of you who haven't read the book or seen the trailer, "Love, Simon" is about a high school boy coming to terms with the fact that he's gay.  It's absolutely incredible.  I didn't think I'd like it much because I'm someone who usually just watches action movies, but this was... spectacular.  I definitely should've brought tissues.

I won't spoil it or anything, but I do want to say that it's a super important film.  Please see it.  This is the representation my generation keeps begging for.  There are characters of color, LGBT+ characters, etc.  And if movies like this do well at the box office, it means we keep getting them.  We all saw how well "Black Panther," "Get Out," and "Wonder Woman" did.  People are tired of seeing straight, white, middle-aged, cis males in every lead role. PLEASE support movies that represent the rest of the human race.  We are STARVING for representation.  And if you want support one of these movies right now while simultaneously understanding the perspective of a gay person... then go see "Love, Simon."

Go alone.  Go with your friends.  Go with your family.  Normalize the LGBT+ community.  My theater was completely full and had groups of young kids... And while that normally would've stressed me the fuck out, I was happy.  I wish I had seen this movie as a kid.  I wish I had known that what I am is normal.  It's not weird or overly sexual or rare.  It's normal and chill and not a big deal... like, at all.  And most of all-- it's just me.

There's a quote in the movie where, after Simon comes out to someone, the person explains that they felt like Simon had been holding his breath for years-- a secret hidden deep within.  And after he came out, the person told him: "You get to exhale now, Simon."

This is me exhaling.

This is me explaining to the world that nothing about me has changed except for the fact that I have a girlfriend.  Nobody "turned me gay" and I'm not "going through a phase."  I've just come to the conclusion that I like boys and I like girls.

There's another quote from the movie that really hit me.  A character named Leah said: "Sometimes, I think I'm destined to care so much about one person it nearly kills me."  I think this one hit home so hard because this is who I was in high school.  This is why I swore off relationships.  And now, I'm vulnerable again. Vulnerable to being hurt, to being rejected, to being left by someone I care about.  And it sucks to think about that.  It's anxiety-inducing, actually, because the quote sums me up... as much as I hate to admit it (and yes, I really, really, really hate to admit it).

I want to continue to be careless and logical and cold, but now I can't.  And it's terrifying and frustrating and full of overthinking.  It's this never-ending series of questions:  Why do I like her more than she likes me?  How long do I have before things go bad?  Are all these thoughts too pessimistic or am I being realistic?  If there's pain at the end of this, will it have all been worth it?

I think it might just be the logical and emotional sides of me clashing.  These two pieces of my soul are at war with each other.  There's this massive part of me that knows I'm safer without the possibility of heartbreak; that knows I worked so hard for so many years to not be this girl anymore; that knows I shouldn't put in this much effort.  But there's also this part of me that lights up when her name appears on my phone; that hates saying goodbye to her when we part ways; that puts down a countdown in my phone till the next time we get to be together again.

It's as if I have gained knowledge of a section of myself (I like boys and girls), but have lost all information I once knew to be true (I'm better off protecting myself than risking everything for the possibility of love).  Maybe I'll figure everything out one day.  But today's not that day.

I want to thank everyone who already knew because everyone's been really supportive.  Instagram, Twitter, and plenty of people in real life knew about my sexuality and it's all been really chill and great so far.  I just figured it'd be nice to officially get all this out there.

So, here it is. Here's... me.

Love, Jordan.

(P.S. Remember to go see "Love, Simon.")