***TRIGGER WARNING*** Intimate Partner Violence, Biphobia, etc.
I am no longer post-therapy-blissed-out and mellow-chill. SO let’s dive into the serious sh*t I was avoiding in my earlier post today, shall we?
It’s something that’s been kinda floating around in my mind since coming across some of the more violent aspects of Lestat/Louis in the AMC version of Interview With the Vampire. Intimate Partner Violence.
Lestat’s incredibly charming and very attractive. Roger Ebert agrees, evidently, or at least found that relationship more compelling as a viewer than Louis’ partnership in Season 2.
Even so, that relationship is INCREDIBLY problematic. Louis isn’t a reliable narrator here. Daniel sees it more objectively, from the outside.
All of which caused me to reflect on my own dating history, and patterns, and the personality types to which I’ve been attracted in the past. I had reflected to my friend B that if Lestat represents my ideal type in a man, maybe I ought to avoid them altogether for safety.
Then, with Pride month coming up, I was thinking about the statistics of Intimate Partner Violence within the LGBTQIA+ community.
The ones I found when I went looking weren’t updated to this year. One can hope things have improved. BUT bisexual women were proportionally the MOST likely to experience things like stalking, harassment, sexual assault, physical violence, etc., second only to bisexual men. Even at that, bisexual women’s IPV rate was still nearly double that of bisexual men.
[I realize the rest of the LGBTQIA+ Community faces struggles, as well, but I feel best equipped to discuss those I’ve experienced, myself, and their connection to my own identity].
I am one of those IPV statistics, more than twice over. But I’m not planning on sharing the worst of it. There’s no need for me to relive all that tonight.
I suspect all of my trauma is a large factor in why I’m so choosy now, though other things like appearances and pickiness and fear of commitment play their roles, as well.
Not to mention all the other cultural and social baggage that comes with coming out as bisexual. Perhaps no one believes you, as my parents didn’t…
When I was 16, they tried to tell me it didn’t exist, that it was invented by Hollywood to sell movie tickets…That they didn’t know where “this” was coming from, but it must be the influences of popular culture and my best friends, whom I was immediately forbidden to ever see again.
Spoiler alert… yes I have dated (and “dated”) more men than women, but I am still ragingly bisexual. And I’ve had almost 30 years for the phase to end.
Which is not to say sexuality can’t evolve. I’m sure it does for some people. And there are people who initially believe themselves bisexual only to realize they fit a different identity altogether.
I have gone through periods where I was more about dudes because they seemed less complicated (HA!!!), or women because they seemed less intimidating (until some of them broke my heart or treated me like an experiment).
Otherwise, potential partners may be all about it in an objectifying sense.
I’ll admit I’ve been guilty of this, as well, and that the possible power it holds over a prospective mate can be heady. Once, I was chatting with a hetero guy who shockingly wasn’t turned on by bisexual women, and I felt cheated.
Still, in the long run, it feels a lot better to be with someone who understands two women don’t necessarily need him there in the first place, and that he might not be welcome in their space.
The guy I met on a night coming off work, about to drive my girlfriend home (yes, workplace romance, not wise, I know), kissed her right after kissing me, when I was the only one of the two of us (myself and girlfriend) who was interested in him. He just felt entitled.
Then, we have the villainization of bisexuals. We’re supposedly the sluttiest, the dirtiest, the likeliest to lie and cheat. (And in Interview with the Vampire, Basic Instinct, American Horror Story: Hotel, House of Cards, etc., we’re also cold-blooded and capable of violence, as though fluid sexuality equates to immorality.)
Just the other day, I was on Threads. I came across a seemingly-harmless, flippant post about how bisexuals ought to have a gender reveal party every time they introduce a new romantic partner to their friends, using the colors of the bi pride flag, presumably, with purple as an option for non-binary.
There was some nasty stuff in the comments section.
Women remarking that bisexual women would “always” reveal male partners. A man commenting that bisexuality shouldn’t even exist, that we should all just “pick a side,” because no one wants a guy’s d*** that’s been inside everybody.
I saw a lot of biphobia on a women-only dating app I tried. Many lesbians felt bisexual women would inevitably cheat on them with a man and ultimately leave them, or else refused to date bisexual women on the grounds that sex with men had made us “dirty.”
Then, there are the guys on dating apps who specify “straight girls only.”
Who even knows what their motives are? I suspect some fundamentalist, anti-LGBTQIA+ Christian theology could be a factor, but that’s just my opinion.
You’d be surprised, however, how many conservative Christian men try to match with me, even though I specify in my profile that I am very, very liberal and am looking for someone more on the radical, hippie end of the spectrum. Ideally more radical than myself. Someone to challenge my world views even further left.
For the purposes of full disclosure, I’ll admit that while I have never lied or snuck around behind anyone’s back, I’ve had overlapping “relationships.” But everyone knew what was going on. I’m not sure if I’m poly, but I don’t believe in cheating.
Younger-me permitted herself to be treated as the “other woman” out of desperation when the truth was withheld until the last possible moment and feelings had already developed, when I believed my partner fully single, but I don’t do THAT anymore, either.
I was tempted by one person from my past, but the two of us were never on the same page about it at the same time. When I wanted to, he didn’t, and when he wanted to, I didn’t. Just as well.
And I can be a notorious flirt, when I’m feeling social, but I’m working on reigning that in, where appropriate. You can’t just let your hair down in every social setting.
To place all of that in context, up until a very recent, very short-lived connection, I had been celibate for a very, VERY long time, for the second time in my life. (The first instance being while I was more occupied with raising kiddo).
I feel more protective over myself now, which is good and bad. It’s possible to stay TOO entrenched in your comfort zone and meet no one. All the same, it’s good to focus on building friendships and sustaining your own well-being.
I’m still torn on what I should be doing about getting back out there now, but someone expressed some interest earlier today. We shall see.
To try and bring this back around to gratitude, I am very, very thankful that I survived my life up until this point, even if there are nights I question why I am still here at all. I do have a child out there, though, who still needs me in ways small and not-so-small.
I once saw a program on matriarchal elephants that argued the larger the mother elephant’s shadow, the better her young ones’ chances at survival. I think when properly addressed, the lessons you learn from your own shadow-self strengthen your abilities to parent.
Not that I didn’t make mistakes along the way, or that my undiagnosed mental health issues didn’t cause problems until we found out what was going on and got me proper treatment. All the same, I like to think the lessons I learned all along that journey can help.
No one deserves trauma, no matter how “strengthening” or “educational” or “transformative” it can be once healed, nonetheless.
I choose at times to feel gratitude for my own emotional pain because at least it means I am actively engaging with my emotions. But I wouldn’t have chosen this precise life for myself, had I been given power over my upbringing, my brain chemistry, etc.
There are many things beyond our control. Scary but true.
Does that make the great experiment of human life less worthy?
I hope not.
I’m on the fence most days about whether or not I believe in an afterlife; for me, the passion I find when creating or appreciating art in any form, seems meaningful enough either way.
If all the superstitious “woo-woo” moments I have experienced are merely phenomena of the physical body and the mind, I’m (mostly) okay with that. Sometimes, I choose to believe that doesn’t make them any less real.
Coming back around to Pride Month… all of these factors and more are, for me, the reason the celebration of Pride is so vital.
It’s such a healing thing to see one’s identity confirmed and validated, to see oneself reflected in a realistic, human way within popular culture, to feel a sense of belonging and community.
Again, happy (early) pride.
All the Bright and Sparkly Things 
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