April 17, 2012

Posted on by asktiggy

Dear Tiggy,

I’m a 21-year old bi woman who hasn’t figured out how to be out there, if that makes any sense. I grew up in a socially conservative town and an immigrant family. The country my parents emigrated from barely had a feminist revolution, let alone an LGBT one. They are, fortunately, relatively open-minded.

The point is, there wasn’t much room for experimentation when I was growing up. Even having very short hair was breaking an established norm, one that I broke with absolute relish. I’m now attending a college that is the complete opposite – very liberal, and a sexually open student body. I’ve met LGBT people who have been out for years.

One thing I realized in this new environment was that while the straight student body was all about questioning and breaking gender norms, many lesbians and bisexual women identified as butch or femme, and put enormous weight on those identities. This was new to me. I’d never paid much attention to my appearance; I wore whatever clothes were on hand. The prospect of, say, joining a baseball team is as alien to me as dolling up my face is. As to the people I’m attracted to, they include anyone – butches, femmes, “feminine” men, androgynous people, etc.

I really want to make a real connection with someone but I worry that I’m too invisible and passive for that to ever happen. I know that I am bi but should I figure out how to wear it?

—Mandy

Girl, if I’m not gonna make you pick a gender to date, I’m sure as hell not gonna make you pick a gender to wear.

Your friends may have been out for years but it sounds like they’re developmentally in a similar place as you: figuring out who they are and what they like. Lots of folks do that through experimentation. There’s also a common feeling of needing to “prove” to yourself that you’re part of a group, so you might start out a bit more extreme in your visible affiliation, whether through style or mannerisms. Once you’re more secure in your identity, you tend to tone it down a bit.

And yet, we can’t write off interest in the whole butch/femme/andro dynamic as a phase, since it continues to play out among queer adults of all ages. Interestingly, it seems to vary by geography. Even more interestingly, LBT women constantly complain about how limiting the dynamic can be, even as they participate in it.

Sociology aside, you can feel free to try on these different identities yourself, or feel just as free not to. If you’re only concerned that not subscribing to one will render you invisible to potential dates, then I’d say that you should work on other ways of being out. If you’re worried that not committing to one will make you unattractive to your love interests, don’t give it another thought. Lots of people out there are going to love Mandy for Mandy, with or without a studded belt. Trust.

© 2012 Tiggy Upland. Tiggy Upland reserves the right to use all submitted queries anonymously, in any medium.

March 20, 2012

Posted on by asktiggy

Dear Tiggy,

Before I married my wife, one of the reasons I felt connected to her was when I told her I may be bisexual, she said she was fine with it. Since then, she has said things over the years to imply that I might be “funny.” I am “funny” – that’s why I felt so good with her acceptance. Now I feel funny in a bad way.

Even if I am faithful and not having sex with men, I can’t win. How can I avoid feeling ashamed of myself or afraid to be who I am, and express myself to my wife?

—Headless Veggie

Ooh, Veggie, I’ll bet that hurt. I’m sorry – it sounds like you feel betrayed.

But here’s something I learned from an Interpersonal Communications seminar I once took: you need to verify what the person actually meant, especially if you care about them.

It’s human nature to assume you know what a loved one means when they’re speaking plain English, but you’d be surprised how often we misunderstand even those closest to us. You can wait until the next time she makes a “funny” comment and reply – calmly and curiously – “What do you mean by that?” Or, you could pick a quiet moment when you’re together and say, “Remember that time you said I was ‘funny’? What did you mean by that?”

Her comments might just be a ham-fisted way of trying to open up a dialogue on what bisexuality means to you. If you two haven’t talked candidly about that, she might be worried that you think it’s OK to be non-monogamous. Now, you know that non-monogamy and bisexuality are two totally different things, and Tiggy knows it, but it’s possible that your wife doesn’t know much of anything about bisexuality. Did you talk about it beyond telling her years ago that you might be bi? Tiggy suspects not.

Now is the time for a deep discussion about your sexuality, as well as your feelings around her support for your true self. I think she wants this, and it can only be good for you in the long run. Go for it.

© 2012 Tiggy Upland. Tiggy Upland reserves the right to use all submitted queries anonymously, in any medium.

March 6, 2012

Posted on by asktiggy

Dear Tiggy,

I am a 30-something bisexual lady who has been happily married to a dude for five years. I feel pretty invisible to the community sometimes, but I know who I am what I’m about and I no longer need to shout it from the rooftops anymore. I’m very happy, if a little lonely in the queerness.

I have always been out and proud (including to my family) and I think I mostly lesbian-identified for a long time. I’ve always appreciated that the people who cared most about me never batted an eye when I told them I was dating and later marrying a guy.

Recently I have had a couple of “Facebook reunions” with (straight) guys I was friends with back in the gay days. Both of them needed to have the “I thought you were gay” talk with me. For one of them, I suspect it was the only reason he made the effort to get together. I felt awkward having to explain that I was always bi, and the whole spectrum of sexuality and how it’s fluid, blah blah blah to these otherwise really hip, accepting dudes. I suspect both of them of having been interested in being more than friends in the past. They both had that “If I had known…” kind of tone. We were also friends enough that they were comfortable asking me directly about this. Blessing or curse? I don’t know.

Anyway, I swear if I never have the “I thought you were gay” conversation again as long as I live, it will be too soon. I can’t help wondering if these dudes (and it’s only ever been straight guys) would go to the same lengths to have the same conversation with someone they always thought was straight who then married someone of the same sex. Is this a double standard? Am I over-reacting? How should I handle these questions in the future? Neither of these guys is a bad or homophobic person. I just feel like I’m back in that teenagery place of feeling like I have to explain the mechanics of my attractions or somehow justify them. Help!

—Roxy’s Paw

You bring up an interesting point: no, I don’t think they would make as big a deal over a presumed straight friend who married someone of the same sex. But that’s because they would figure the friend to have been closeted, whereas no one expects a person they believe to be gay to actually be a closeted hetero.

Most people have to suffer some oft-repeated and bordering-on-offensive conversation about their perceived bizarritude, like, “Didn’t you used to be a lesbian?” or “Where are you from? [to someone not white]” or “Why don’t you drink?” or “Wow, you’re tall, how tall are you?” I certainly wouldn’t say you’re overreacting but when I receive one of these Questions That Hell Wrought, I allow the initial query, having accepted that it’s human nature to be curious. My response is pithy and canned, and I suggest the same for you. “No, I’ve always identified as bisexual. I dated lots of women in the past but now I’m with a man.” Asked and answered, change the subject.

I find that this first inquiry can be an innocent request for clarification or attempt at small talk. It’s the follow-up questions that tend to be shockingly offensive: “So do you two have sex?” “No, really, where are you from? You can’t be American. Is it one of those little Asian countries?” “I’ll bet someone attacked you once when you were drunk, right?” “How long is your dick?” You have every right to abruptly beg off or, in a situation like yours with generally decent friends, tell them that you don’t understand what they’re still confused about and that their questions are making you uncomfortable. By the way, it sounds like your gut suspicion -– that these guys had a thing for you -– is right on the money. That still doesn’t mean you owe them an explanation.

At the base of all of this is bisexual invisibility, as you’ve surmised. It’s a cross that we bear, at least until we succeed at changing the world. Just remember: you’re not invisible to OUR community. Many of us are in monogamous relationships, lots of us used to identify as gay, and pretty much all of us know how it feels to be treated like no one knows you’re here. But the more you stick with the bisexual community as we grow and band together, the easier it will be to deal with expected annoyances like this.

© 2012 Tiggy Upland. Tiggy Upland reserves the right to use all submitted queries anonymously, in any medium.

July 12, 2011

Posted on by asktiggy

Dear Tiggy,

I’m a 58-year-old, twice-divorced man. Ever since I hit puberty and had some homosexual encounters with a cousin and other pubescent male friends, I’ve desired the sexual activities but have zero-zip-zilch emotional connection with men.

I NEVER look at a man and say, “Wow… I’d really like to [sexual activity].” But I always notice women, am attracted to them – and they to me – and enjoy both sex and emotional connection with them. However, for years, I frequented adult bookstores with video booths with glory holes and performed oral sex on many men anonymously. I also have had anal sex with men less than a dozen times. After the physical encounters, I experience the most debilitating shame and guilt to the point of suicide (which I obviously haven’t carried out since I’m still here).

I haven’t done anything with a man in a very long time but the desire is still there. I think about it every day. I wish I could satisfy the physical desire, but there’s just no way that I would ever want a real relationship with a man. My relationships with women are positive and fulfilling, yet this other desire is always present. I’m in a relationship with a woman now (not living together, though) and she would not tolerate this kind of behavior.

Any thoughts, ideas, “cures”?

—Crater Lake

My dear, I am neither willing nor able to “cure” you of human sexuality, as there is nothing sick about it. From where I sit, your problems regarding this issue are: 1.) post-sex shame/guilt, and 2.) securing an optimal emotional and sexual situation.

For the first, I’m so sorry to hear that shame and guilt over something that is not wrong is eating you up. If you’re ever suicidal again, please call 1-800-SUICIDE immediately. When your brain is set on self-destruct over something as benign as consensual sex between adults, you are not thinking clearly. One of the hotline counselors can talk you down until you realize how senseless and terrible it would be to take your own life.

There’s only one way I know of to get rid of shame: you have to get your secret out. It’s been locked up in your mind, festering and poisoning you, making you think crazy things like that you’re bad for doing what you do. Unburden yourself from this secret and feel the weight lifted from your shoulders. Say it out loud.

I’m sending you on a Get-It-Off-My-Chest Mission. Don’t start out by shouting it from the rooftops, though; pace yourself…

1. Tell one person online who you’ll never meet anyway. (Hey, you already told me – nice job!)

2. Tell more people online: chat anonymously with likeminded folks on one of the Craigslist discussion forums.

3. Tell a therapist: let him know that you want to work on alleviating shame surrounding your sexual behavior.

4. Ask him to recommend an appropriate men’s conversation group. Tell the people there.

By then, you’ll hear that other people have the same sexual and romantic feelings and activities as you. I promise that experiencing that validation is unlike anything else.

As for the second, that’s what we’re all looking for. You’re really not that different from everyone else, I swear. Maybe you’ll decide that you can live without having other sexual partners as long as you can stay with your lady. Here’s a secret that I told Conan O’Brien: nobody gets exactly what s/he wants in this world. “Good enough” can be pretty darned good. However, if I may say so, it doesn’t sound like you’re content with the status quo.

I think you’ve done some great work in identifying your ideal situation: a sexual and emotional relationship with a woman, with the freedom to have the occasional sexual encounters with men. If you want to stay with your current partner, at least consider asking her if she would be amenable to an arrangement that meet your desires. As they say, nothing ventured, nothing gained.

If you and she decide to part ways, you might find some folks on your Mission whose desires match well with yours (like people in the poly community). Of course, it’s hard to negotiate your needs with a potential romantic partner, and yeah, some of them might “run screaming from the room,” as it were, but you know what? Lots of them won’t. Many of them will have their own quirks to bring to this bargaining table. Some of them will even be turned on by what you’re into. And if you’re lucky, one very special character will fit you perfectly.

Courage, friend. Check back in to let us know how your Mission goes.

© 2011 Tiggy Upland. Tiggy Upland reserves the right to use all submitted queries anonymously, in any medium.