Confessions of a Bisexual Man -- Part 3

Nature vs. Nurture

Pondering one's sexuality naturally leads to the question of causes, usually because one goes through a period where he wishes he wasn't this way, haha. Was I born a content heterosexual only to be shifted by some event in my life, or have I simply been in a record-long case of denial, only now to have snapped out of it? This is obviously very controversial, but I will address the issue as objectively as I possibly can because, when you honestly consider those two explanations, you conclude that the effects would look very similar. Can we ever really be sure of one or the other? It goes without saying that as an open bisexual I favor the latter explanation; I don't think I would be writing here if I thought I were suffering some kind of psychosis. Nevertheless, I think that as a good scientist, the nurture argument deserves inspection, even if my biases already have me leaning the other way. However, I must warn that UNLIKE a good scientist, I will not be citing research in this discussion. While there are droves of people searching for a genetic or psychological trigger for homosexuality, I feel that the research is much too immature at this stage to be taken with more than a grain of salt. Moreover, this blog is just a harbor for my casual thoughts, not a scientific colloquium, so you'll have to grant me some leeway when I don't fact-check everything. Feel free to correct me in the comments.

Let's first examine the nurture idea. Some people have suggested that homosexuality can be correlated with men who don't have strong male role models in their lives, or who had overbearing mothers. I have to laugh at this because I'll be the first to admit that that's two strikes for me; I have more than my fair share of daddy issues, and Mom, bless her heart, can be a bit much. But these explanations don't seem to hold up across the global population. The fact that kills this idea for me before it can even get out of the gate is the ubiquity of homosexuality across all races and cultures. If homosexuality were really a product of a particular type of environment, it's hard to believe that it would pop up in every single society on the planet, given the great diversity of social norms around the globe. Yet it does. Even limiting ourselves to our own culture, I know (at least anecdotally) of several gays and lesbians who grew up in the nuclear family, with a loving father and mother and conservative values. If we're really going to blame environment, then we're going to have a hell of a time determining how one conservative family has no gays and another has one.

There's another important nurture issue that isn't routinely cited as a cause for homosexuality, yet strangely it's used as a fear base against homosexuals. I'm talking about when parents systematically keep their children away from gays out of fear that they will "turn their children gay". Strangely, I've never actually heard this cited as a likely cause of homosexuality by ANYONE, including homophobes, yet it seems to be a subconscious belief when a gay couple moves in down the street. Another version of this story goes something like this: a man moves to San Francisco and later starts identifying as gay. In other words, San Francisco turned him gay. This logical fallacy is simple enough to unravel. Liberal places don't turn people gay; they simply provide the first non-judgmental environment in which the person is comfortable enough to explore taboo aspects of his personality. In other words, it was actually the person's original environment that was originally, actively working against the person's identity. I can personally attest to this. It wasn't Austin that made me bisexual; no one ever even knew I had those feelings. It was simply the lack of judgment that allowed me to first openly explore the question: well what if I am?

Originally, my nature argument was going to be fairly short. I mean, if homosexuality is genetic (including developmental factors) and determined at birth, then the argument is moot, right? Gays are just another variety of person, right? Well ... as much as I'd like to conclude right there, if I really want to be my own devil's advocate and get into the real grit that people don't want to talk about (and you know I do), then we need to go a little further. First, we have to acknowledge that calling something genetic does not automatically make it un-attackable and above reproach. There is obviously a host of genetic disorders that, despite being as "natural" as we can call 'natural', we actively work to cure. Before anyone jumps at my throat for comparing homosexuality to a genetic disorder, let me discuss what has to constitute a disorder. Things like Parkinson's and muscular dystrophy are homerun disorders, right? Why? Because they severely debilitate the afflicted and reduce their quality of life. For the inverse reasons, hair and eye color are obviously not disorders. But then there's a gray area we rarely think about. Is dwarfism a genetic disorder? Is albinism? To my knowledge, little people only may suffer a lower quality of life because they live in a world built for a taller majority. Albinos likely have to take more care in the sun, but then again, so do white people in general when compared to black people. Maybe being white is a genetic disorder! Honestly, if the world were 95% black, would whiteness not be seen as a condition that debilitates a person in the sun? LOL, I'm loving this line of reasoning I'm extruding.

So if homosexuality is genetic, is it a debilitating disorder on a biological level? The obvious pro-argument is to say that, well, gays who are same-sex exclusive obviously can't reproduce. Their genes don't get passed on, so by all accounts, they are biological failures. Yet ... homosexuality persists in the population, and not just in humans. Apparently, tendencies toward homosexuality to some degree are advantageous in reproductive success, although I'll be the first to admit that this is baffling. One explanation I've heard is that perhaps animals that exhibit bisexual behavior make better parents, so while pure homosexuality is not advantageous, some sort of heterogeneous phenotype is. Of course, this is COMPLETE speculation; the only real fact to key in on is that despite our simple, reasonable prediction that homosexuality would naturally become extinct, it is in fact resilient. It doesn't seem very debilitating to the gene pool at all. How about a reduced quality of life? Haha, well, to be blunt, I think anyone would have a hard time arguing that getting off the way you want to reduces your quality of life. I know personally that I've been much happier since I've been able to embrace my bisexuality, and the only way it makes my life harder is via other people's prejudices. The image of the depressed, confused homosexual with low self-esteem is in my view entirely a product of a society that forces a man to be something he doesn't want to be.

At the end of the day, you can't really argue against the fact that little people, albinos, and gays would all have it easier if they were tall, tanning, straight people. This topic often comes up in gay chat forums: if there were a "straight pill", would you take it? This was pretty much the plot to X-Men 3, and like in that movie, there were people who just wanted relief from the burden of their differences, but you may be surprised to find a camp of people who would not want to change. Though their differences make their lives more difficult, those differences are fully integrated into their identities, and changing them would be no less than becoming a different person with a different personality. I have to say I'm in that camp as well. I can't see turning my back on the amazing feelings I've been able to have, even if I could be equally happy as a straight man. Whatever this is, it's me.

Is homosexuality a product of nature or nurturing? Well, I have to admit I've tricked you here a bit. Despite having devoted quite a bit of time to discussing both sides, I don't actually care that much. The way I see it, there are trillions of factors -- genetic, hormonal, psychological, environmental -- that make up everything that a person could call his identity. I'm sure these all play some role in how I see myself, but being that I'm able-bodied, well-adjusted, and happy, why question that? I'm much more interested in the future than how I got to the present.

P.S. I was going to include the concept of gender roles in this topic, but since my nature discussion ballooned, I've decided to make it its own separate topic for next time.

Next topic: Gender Roles

Confessions of a Bisexual Man - Part 2

Platonic Love (i.e., the Bromance) -- Does Being Bi Make it Easier or Harder?

Okay, I'm out. Good for me. Maybe not everyone knows, but most of the people who need to know know. But much to my surprise, this revelation about my sexuality was just one of many. Why? Two reasons: (1) because once you've come to terms with the most traumatic social ordeal of our generation, many other hang-ups seem trivial; and (2) questioning your sexuality to begin with can't help but cause you to question much broader topics, like the concept of affection and what it should mean to you.

I can say without pause that I love several perfectly straight men, though I am sexually attracted to few of them. But in a society like ours, what exactly does such a statement amount to? Is it okay for them to love me back? Does my bisexuality free me to make such expressions more openly, or does it hinder me because now they'll wonder if I'm going to hit on them?

We live in a time where male-male affection is more acceptable than it has been in recent years (although still far less than in years past, according to "The Art of Manliness": http://artofmanliness.com/2008/08/24/the-history-and-nature-of-man-friendships/). Yet, I can't help but be frustrated with the shroud of juvenile pretense that has to surround the expression of that affection. A guy can say "I love you" to another guy, but he'd better be drunk, or else he'd better use his silly voice so that everyone knows he's fooling around (when he isn't). Hugs are the only acceptable form of body contact (unless drunk), and they must not last for longer than the prescribed 2 seconds, followed by the customary back slap to reaffirm that we are all indeed still manly and unaffected by the wisp of emotion in the air. Other than that, you'd better hope to God you aren't forced into a crowded situation where you'd have to -- gasp! -- make bodily contact with a good friend you've known for years and years (unless, again, you're drunk -- you'll find that a lot of these rules go out the window when alcohol's involved). That's just gaaaaaay.

My dripping sarcasm is obvious here. I hope it's at least tentatively clear to anyone reading this that there is absolutely nothing inherently gay about anything I mentioned above. And while we all may nod our heads in silent agreement to that notion, we'll just as quickly admit that we dare not put such ideas into practice. Thus we come to the crux of our topic: does being bisexual make it easier or harder to express platonic affection for the same-sex friends we love?

I'm bisexual; it's official. I am attracted to men, and I would willingly engage in sexual activities with them. That's an established FACT to all of my friends. Therefore, why the hell should I care about any of the typical concerns that straight guys have when they express affection? What's anyone going to do, call me gay? Yeah buddy, ya got me. What about it? One of the better perks of coming out has been the ability to tell my friends that I unequivocally love them and not flinch. I don't even need them to love me back or show any other kind of reciprocation; if it's true, then I just say it. I don't have to treat love like a poker game, and if I died tomorrow, I could die peacefully knowing that everyone knew exactly how important they were to me.

Of course, it takes two to have a friendship, and it's a selfish friend who puts undue strain on that bond. I may feel very passionately about my views on love, but as much as I want all my friends to embrace that view, it just may not be in the cards. I have to recognize that other people have different comfort levels, and it's selfish of me to knowingly push someone into an uncomfortable position by expressing to them undesired forms of affection. And let's be perfectly honest for a second here: I am sexually attracted to some of my friends. It's inevitable when you think about it; these are the people I've chosen platonically to know and trust best, so they are naturally the people with whom experimental sexual contact would be easiest for a bi-curious dude. There's an amusing theme in many of the gay discussion forums that goes something like this:

Post: "OMG I think my best friend is gay should I make a move?????"
Reply: "NO NO NO FOR THE LOVE OF GOD NO!"

So yeah, the obstacle that bisexuality presents is not simply my friends', but mine as well. I am free from social constraints to openly express affection on a level that most straight guys wouldn't dare go to, but I'm also now more responsible for respecting my friends' personal boundaries.

I think if you collected several opinions from gay men, you'd find this issue to be a toss-up. Some would say that being out is liberating in this regard, and others would say that they usually avoid too many straight friends because of the problems that can arise. For me, it's about striking an appropriate balance that acknowledges the feelings I have while respecting the friends that gave me these feelings in the first place. This issue is far from closed with me, but it's at least off to a good start.

Next topic: Nature, Nurture, and the Gender Role

Confessions of a Bisexual Man -- Part 1

I've decided that it's time to share the many issues I've pondered in the last year since I came out as bisexual, and, for better or for worse, I think this is the best medium. For one thing, a blog allows me to edit and re-edit my statements until I'm satisfied that I've communicated my ideas properly. The second reason is your average person quite simply won't ask about it, either out of a sense of courtesy, discomfort with the subject, or a belief that it's truly not a big deal and thus does not merit conversation. Unfortunately, I'm quite desperate for some conversation, and this way people can decide what they do and do not want to read. This will be the first topic I cover. Currently I've brainstormed six major issues with which gays and bisexuals wrestle, and, despite some furious Google searching, there is woefully little discussion on the matters. Therefore, I write these in the attempt to foster conversation and hopefully end up on the Google search results of some other poor guy looking for guidance.

THE TALK -- THE AFTERMATH OF COMING OUT

For me, the most difficult part about coming out was figuring out how to set the proper tone. To this day, I have a hard time explaining my feelings on the subject without sounding like a bipolar head case. The gay man's communication dilemma, summed up in a sentence: "This really isn't that big a deal ... but it kinda is." I spent weeks drafting my coming out letter with surgical precision so that anyone who knew would also get an earful on a number of other topics, all in the name of setting the proper tone, letting people know what was different and what wasn't, and encouraging openness. Unfortunately, I now know that no matter how many hours you spend preparing a statement, somewhere down the road you'll look back on it and find fault in it. I remember at the time that I emphasized how my sexuality was not any more interesting than my favorite color. And yet, I find myself staying up until 3 AM searching the web for essays on gay issues just because I'm so desperate to at least listen to someone talk about this. Clearly, favorite color this is not, and the "It's not a big deal" theory does not pan out in practice.

I always feel like I'm paying for a past sin when I feel like I don't have anyone to turn to to discuss homosexuality. I've had a handful of friends come out to me before bisexuality was significantly blipping my radar, and I did what any well-meaning, straight friend would probably do: not bring it up and let life go on. I thought I was doing them a service by demonstrating just how little I cared about their revised orientation, and that things were going to be exactly the same. Well, it's always good when a friend doesn't freak out, but you can almost automatically see the problem with that policy: "how little I cared". I didn't make myself available to talk about their feelings and the coming out process, and it was probably a pretty lonely time for them. Now all I can do is shake my head and repent as I find myself in a similar situation, craving conversation.

The crux of this "It's not a big deal" problem lies within the changes in the social dynamic that must naturally follow coming out. For example, it is true that like a favorite color, a sexual orientation need not be an in-your-face part of one's identity. However, when was the last time you had to consider color preference to decide whether or not to hit on someone, which bars to go to, which cities to live in, or how to touch someone, lest they get the wrong idea? Perhaps now you see my point: there are some significant overhauls that must follow a gay man's coming out if he is to have a chance at happiness, whether or not he is an over-the-top flamer. Like any good, "straight-acting" guy, I used to give playful ass smacks to friends, usually followed by the customary "Good game", when an actual game was rarely involved. And of course this doesn't bother me in any way now, but now I don't do it because of the potential for misinterpretation. Is he joking? Is he hitting on me? Does he just do that to cop a feel? Maybe I'm overreacting, but I don't think it's too hard to understand why I'm apt to play it cautiously.

The next thing that a gay guy learns is that coming out is a continual process; there will always be new people to tell, and how one goes about doing that says a lot about how he views his gay identity. Upon coming out, I secretly hoped that the news would spread like a brushfire, allowing me to dodge the very process I'm talking about. I wanted to rely on everyone else to do the dirty work for me, and hopefully the people and the conversation would come to me. I quickly realized that the news was not as widespread as I'd hoped, and I found it extremely difficult to tell a person to his/her face when he/she wasn't expecting it, even though I had already come out to several others. Why?

Well, for starters, there is rarely a suitable context to bring up such a thing. Exactly what kind of segue can you envision in typical conversation through which you can say, "Oh by the way I'm bisexual"? I always laugh at myself when I think about this because I probably had the most ridiculously good segue imaginable, and I STILL pussed out! LOL. A group of three close acquaintances (mixed company) and I were sitting around a table playing a board game, and I jokingly said that we could easily make a strip version of this game. The dialogue followed:

A: "Haha, yeah, but the gender ratio here is a little skewed."
B: "Well, we don't KNOW everyone here is straight, do we?"
Me: "That's true ..."
" .................................................. "

LOL, in my defense, this was like a week after I came out, and I still wasn't very accustomed to talking about it out loud, but still, FAIL! The point is that rare instances like this aside, it usually seems EXTREMELY non sequitur to bring up one's sexuality, which in turn makes it sound like a desperate grab for attention and/or a show of insecurity. Furthermore, do you mention it to people you just met? People at work? People who may be homophobic? People after they've just made a pretty harsh gay joke? In each of these situations, you can imagine two paths: (1) "Hmmm, if I get the chance, I should probably make it clear that I'm not straight, just so we're on the same page," or (2) "Ya know, it's my personal life, and there isn't any compelling reason for him/her to know at this time." Given the timing, place, and relationship with the person, it's not always clear which option to go with.

I finally had to make a point last weekend to tell a person to whom I've become quite close. We had spent practically the entire weekend together, and he's the type who likes to make gay innuendo jokes, like, "Oh, hard, huh? I bet YOU like it hard!" The funniest thing about these situations -- which I find myself in frequently -- is that I always answer, never lie, and never even look like I'm joking when I say it, yet like clockwork everyone just assumes that I'm playing along, LOL. It always makes me snicker to myself, throw up my arms, and roll my eyes. I finally told him on the ride back up to Austin, and he was cool with it, but it was obvious that he was in a bit of shock (I hate doing that to people), like it was the last thing he was expecting. I finally decided he needed to know right away because with all the jokes, my harmless omissions began to feel more like lies. Come to think of it, he may have been the first person I've pulled aside to tell in person, and consequently, he's the person with whom I've had the longest conversation about it face-to-face.

My friend's story is a great example of the obstacle that heteronormativity sometimes presents. 'Heteronormativity' is a great word I stumbled across in my readings that I think describes the dilemma perfectly; it means that heterosexuality is what one might call more "true" or "normal" than any alternative, and thus unless it is otherwise stated, people will be assumed to live heterosexual lifestyles by default. A person may be completely tolerant of homosexuality, but it's still viewed as a fringe lifestyle and generally not considered when meeting new people.

Now let me be clear; I fully recognize that the vast majority of the population identifies as straight, and I'm not demanding special treatment in the form of people walking around going, "Is there a special man/woman/she-male/horse in your life?" Nay (haha, get it?). What I am asking for is that people: (1) at least consider that a person may not be heterosexual when meeting and talking with him/her, and (2) when given reason to think that a person may not be straight, have the courage to ask them about it, and don't make it sound like some dirty little secret. This isn't about forcing people to be PC; this is about challenging some broad assumptions which are becoming less and less true as homosexuality becomes more accepted. Whereas in the 50s it was probably commonplace to assume a 40 year-old woman had a husband, today we would drop the assumption and first ask if she were married. I'm talking about a very similar thing. Heteronormativity can make it very difficult for a gay person to be open because the only way he can seem to convince people he's not joking is by flat-out stating it, which, as I previously said, is almost always an awkward non sequitur. If that's what it comes to, so be it I guess, but hopefully you can see why it would be smoother if we all assumed a little less.

So yes, as I said, coming out and adapting one's lifestyle is a huge, continual ordeal, yet at the same time, it need not change everything. In other words, it's not really a big deal, but it kinda is. I think most gays and bisexuals can agree that we don't live and die by our sexual orientation, but we really want good friends with whom to talk about it! The problem is that we also have to psychically gauge our friends' comfort (or discomfort) levels with these topics; we're not out to make anyone upset, and we certainly don't want to alienate anyone. Nevertheless, these same topics are very important to us and deserve some talk time. And given the fact that we came out, you can likely rest assured that WE are comfortable talking about our sexuality, haha.

The more I think about this, the more I realize that this discussion just as easily applies to people of different races, religions, and those with handicaps or debilitating diseases. Say what you want about discrimination, entitlement, etc.; I've had some pretty strong opinions about that in the past, but that's not what I'm talking about. I'm talking about TALKING! Everyone quit being so goddamn courteous and ask some tough questions already! We've all had to learn to live with the things that make us different, and more likely than not, we're all craving a little dialogue. So go forth, be bold, relentless, and unapologetic!

Next topic: Platonic Love (i.e. The Bromance) -- Does Being Gay Make It Easier or Harder?

Streams of Consciousness

I've been wanting to update for a while; my mind has been a flurry of thoughts now for several months, but the thoughts are so disparate that I couldn't imagine a coherent entry. Oh well, does that really matter? Now I'm sitting on my balcony on a late evening with no worries on my mind (temporarily) and a glass of wine. The night air is still and welcoming, even when I'm wearing a T-shirt and shorts. I can't think of anything better to do than reflect.

I have good friends here. I have good friends everywhere. It's kind of a shame that no one can appreciate the journey I took to be me; the road is just too winding for any one person to see all the way back. I can think of some really strange thoughts and experiences that I've had, and I don't know if anyone else could look at them and fit them into the context of the relatively normal life I appear to have. I'm a weird guy. I don't apologize for it. I love it. I embrace it. I'm shameless in it. That's why friends are so important. They know me. They love the strangeness. It makes them smile, makes them laugh. It only takes one raised eyebrow from someone I trust to bring the whole thing crashing down -- to make me wonder if everything I've ever said or done has been a joke. I wonder if there's a line that can be crossed. I wonder if there are some things that are best left unsaid. I wonder who would stay with me until the end. I wonder if I should wonder.

Not too long ago -- certainly within the time frame of this blog -- I was utterly rooted in the logical. The rational. The best-case scenario. My how things have changed. It's as if a picture that was in such sharp focus has blurred slightly, and I've found the blurry image to be much more interesting. I feel wild, unpredictable. Maybe I'll light something on fire tonight and dance around it. I don't care. Apathy isn't the word. It's fearlessness. Yeah, that's it. I. don't. fear. I'm not indestructible. I'm just not destructible enough for it to matter.

I need more outlets. I need more people to talk to. Really listen. It's too much just for me. I don't want it to be just for me. I have so much to say, but I don't know who wants to hear it. I can't just start talking. Not with this. I should've been clearer about that. It has to be invited.

I think I've found a kindred spirit in Orson Scott Card. I don't know this strange man from Greensboro, NC, but one thing's for sure: he understands people. All the good and the bad and the creamy everything in between. It's sadly amusing to me that Ender's Game is the only book in the series that ever took off; what a predictable injustice done upon a story that doesn't just follow a plot, but spirals out every consequence of that plot ad infinitum, until you feel so meek about your own actions for fear of what they might cause. And at the same time, you feel as though you've lost control of time when you know that, in 3000 years, should anyone ever utter your name by accident, it will almost certainly be answered with, "Who the hell is that?"

It's telling that I understand Ender's fear and rage so well. I've never been able to lose the rage, and I've always feared it. It's so well controlled and understood now -- I am so grateful for that -- but I know it's still there just the same. People are not good or evil, only yin and yang, and the degree to which they understand ALL of their nature determines the manner in which they are capable of acting. Still so immature. Still such a long way to go. For now, I'll settle for being a polite, thoughtful animal. That's quite enough a compliment.

And now we return to the bright, exposing lights of routine, where none of these thoughts would be caught dead. Not for a lack of wanting though.

On the Matter of Idealism