My story may not be ground-breaking, but it was my soul-making.
I went to “that” all-girls high school. The one famed for churning out sluts, lesbians, bisexuals, and questioners. I hope I don’t have to explain that the school wasn’t the making of my sexuality, but opened the closet doors for me to stroll out of. I played softball all through my years there, and enjoyed every minute of playing outfield, from where I could see all the beautiful girls!
It took me a while to come to terms with what I am. It happened all of a sudden, when a friend was speaking of a mutual friend of ours, saying she was bisexual. It’s as though the cogs in my brain suddenly fitted together. Now I understood what it was that I felt for her all those years. She occupied my thoughts every day for 5 years, with the unspoken but I presumed, unrequited love I had for her, and it is only now that I have been able to move on sufficiently to be able to sustain another relationship. I would have meaningless flings with girls, or otherwise ruin friendships I had by getting too close, or falling for the girl. I also went through metamorphoses, turning from a girly girl, to a mini butch, believing that looking butch was the only way to be a lesbian. Truthfully, baggy t-shirts were only just covering up my insecurities. It was only in my last year of school I decided to focus on myself, got fit and started to blossom again, back to the lipstick lesbian who was inside. I went to my formal dance in the prettiest dress and boots, taking no date, because there was no girl or boy I wanted to take, but instead having fun with my friends. I then went overseas for a year, working and traveling on my own, which was the most incredibly self-assuring experience. I returned to Johannesburg, happy to see my friends, and starting to let myself love again. Since then, there have been girls for every feeling, some who soured me, but made me stronger. Some who have boosted me up, but couldn’t last. The crux of it all is how I have grown, accepting that things will not be perfect, as we want them, just like women. I am finally allowing myself to like who I like, regardless of everyone’s opinion. I realised I have been with more girls in my life who are not my “type” than who actually are. But that just proves a new point: my “type” is girls–wonderful, beautiful, women. And I don’t let anyone dare tell me otherwise!