Life in Ink and Footsteps

That was a good one, I know. And no, I’m not gay. But I learned a new word: bisexual. And suddenly, the world got a lot more colorful. This might sound strange to some people—understandably, it was 2017, not the deep, dark ’50s. But I come from a post-communist country and a town of 2,000 people, where there was one gay kid, and that was it. Maybe there were more, but no one was out and proud. We weren’t exactly educated on the rainbow spectrum. TV wasn’t LGBTQ+ friendly, and to most people, being gay was still seen as wrong or disgusting.

I remember my stepfather once saying that if someone in the family had to be queer, let it be me because lesbians were “easier to tolerate” than gay men. Yes, I know how gross and sexist that sounded (and still does), and no, I don’t agree with it. But this was the general mindset of the early 2000s. So trust me when I say that when I was around 15 or 16 and started feeling attracted to women, I was scared as hell—and confused. Was I straight? I dated boys; they were cute—kinda, as much as prepubescent boys can be. Or was I gay? That girl I kissed at a party while drunk was gorgeous, and that kiss was the hottest thing that ever happened to me. Hella confusing. What was I?

Then, at 17, I fell in love with a boy, and we were together for four years. So, naturally, I thought I’d imagined it all. I mean, everyone has to think women are attractive, right? That’s just normal. So, that was it. I was straight.

Until one spring afternoon, after a night of partying, my Nordic friend S. casually mentioned the hottest woman she’d met and how she’d had some naughty thoughts about her. That stopped me in my tracks. Did she just say, woman? I knew she dated men. She must’ve seen the look on my face because she got a bit quiet, probably thinking I was homophobic. I asked what she meant, and that’s when she explained everything. And when I say everything, I mean everything. This girl was not shy about the details once she realized where my confusion was coming from.

And suddenly, it all clicked. For the first time, my sexual experiences, dreams, and shame made sense. I was bisexual. In theory, at least. For a few weeks, that was enough. Then I got curious and updated my Tinder to include women.

This brings us to the beginning of summer—and my first date with a woman. But before I dive into that, another important event happened around this time: the 4th of July. I spent the holiday weekend with the family in their newly purchased summer house in Connecticut. It was great. The house had a small pool, a hot tub, and an outdoor seating area in a private, remote location. We ate good food, swam in the pool, worked on puzzles, and just relaxed. Everyone was in a good mood. Even the kids were calm, which was surprising, considering there are four of them with a 14-year age gap between the youngest and eldest. The family was always loud, but in a way that felt comforting after growing up mostly alone with my younger brother. His dad was a truck driver and was gone a lot, and our mom worked long hours. The mom of the family offered to let me stay at the summer house for my second vacation week, which was super sweet, especially since I was always broke. I was seriously considering it. After the weekend, we returned to the city, and it was time for my first lesbian date.

We met on Tinder. She seemed cool and fun. We planned to meet at a bar owned by her friend. When I arrived, she was already tipsy, having just come from a bachelorette party. We talked and laughed, but she kept drinking, and things got slightly out of hand. I don’t know about you, but drunk people aren’t attractive to me, especially when I’m sober. She asked if I could give her a ride home, and I agreed. That’s when she dropped the bomb: she was in a relationship with a man, but he was okay with her hooking up with girls since she was bisexual. In fact, he’d love to join in from time to time.

I did not sign up for that. I’m happy for people in open relationships, but I wanted to be with a girl—not as a third in a kinky couple. I had no idea things like open relationships or polyamory even existed. Anyway, that’s not what I wanted, and it’s definitely not what she advertised on her profile. We stopped in front of her apartment, and she kissed me. I wish I could say I enjoyed it, but she was really drunk, tasted like alcohol, and I was still processing the bombshell she’d just dropped. So, no, my first official kiss with a woman after realizing I was bi was not good. She invited me upstairs, and I declined. I think that hurt her feelings because she dragged herself out of my car and went home alone.

I went home feeling disappointed, discouraged, and annoyed. With only a few weeks left in the U.S., I didn’t get a chance to go on another date with a woman. And I wasn’t ready to come out at home. In Uganda, I never met anyone I was interested in. So my first real experience with a woman didn’t come until 2022 when I moved to Japan—a whole five years after that first messed-up date.

Oh and what are we listening to today?
The Lumineers – Sleep on the floor