Wedding Nerves

I'm getting married in just over 6 months and I. Am. Nervous. I'm nervous as hell. Sometimes, I'm too excited to be nervous and I forget to be nervous, but then something happens and I get scared all over again.

The wedding is going to be beautiful. The party is going to be a lot of fun. The food will be delicious, the decorations will take your breath away, and the cake will be a masterpiece. I'm still nervous.

My marriage is going to be awesome. I know that for sure. We're a pretty fun couple now--that's only going to amplify. We laugh a lot. We have a dog and a fish and I never thought a little family like this was going to make me so happy and whole. I'm still nervous.

Every few weeks, I'm struck with a paralyzing fear. "Should we rush to the courthouse and get married now?" I wonder. If Trump comes for same-sex marriages, do we need to already have that piece of paper? I live in constant fear of my marriage not being valid. I live in fear of having it in my grasp and then ripped right out of my hands.

It's a new thing that this is even possible. When we got engaged, some family and friends didn't even know that we were able to get married to each other officially.

I remember when I heard the news that it was legal everywhere. "Love won." I didn't even know Casey yet. But she felt like a possibility on that day.

I am scared all of the time. Even though I live in a bubble and I know it. I've lived my life surrounded by liberal, understanding, welcoming people. I don't have a "coming out" story because I never really did. I never really had to. I pretend the "other side" doesn't exist. It's easy in my life. I mean, I get it--I do risk calculations when I'm with my female fiance and sometimes have to determine if it's safe to hold her hand or give her a kiss. I've dated men, I know there are differences when you're out in the world living your life. But it's easy to ignore it because it's just love and what's so wrong about that?

I struggle because I've never had to make being bisexual part of my identity. But if Trump comes for my marriage, I'm going to have to. I'm going to have to fight tooth and nail for something that feels so natural and right and so much a part of me. It would be like fighting for the right to have my ears pierced. And I'm scared all the time that that's a fight I'm going to have to have and I don't know where to start.

I am so excited to get married and I am so scared of Trump.

Holy Shit!

She beat me to it. I'm an engaged lady. I have a fiance.

Holy shit.

Pride Month and My Unease With My Sexuality

It's officially pride month. *rainbow confetti*

I am bisexual. I've known it for almost 10 years now, although it happened in small steps. First, I thought I was heteroromantic/bisexual because I wanted to fool around with girls, but not date them. Then I thought dating them might be nice. Then my ex-boyfriend catfished me by pretending to be a girl who I online "dated" for longer than I care to admit, and I realized I was full-fledged bi. Bisexual, biromantic, the whole bi-shebang. (hehe...shebang)

And now, I'm dating a woman. It's been about two and a half years now and I'm gonna put a ring on it as soon as I find the right time to ask.

I'm very secure in being bisexual. I embrace my past experiences with men. I embrace the few experiences with women. And I fully embrace my girlfriend whenever I get the chance. I know that, as much as I hate the idea, if something happened to break us up, I might date a man again.

I just hate the word bisexual. I hate everything that it conjures up. I hate what it conjures up in me when I say it--an immediate need to defend, to explain, to fight for my right to be part of the queer experience even though it can feel like, sometimes, to myself, I don't belong here.

I didn't start thinking about girls like that until I was 23 years old. My boyfriend (yes, that asshole one) and I were being intimate and he started talking dirty about a threesome. On my drive home I realized that in the world I was creating in my head...he wasn't there in that scenario and I liked it just fine.

I wasn't shocked by the revelation, but it was definitely unsuspected. I never really had a big heart-to-heart with myself about it. I didn't agonize or feel ashamed or dirty for it. I thought through my past and found some crushes that at the time I didn't realize were crushes, but nothing big or astronomical or life-changing. I never looked longingly at that poster of the two girls in bed that all the lesbians loved (you know EXACTLY what poster I'm talking about).

It was the smallest, quietest coming out to myself. So I sometimes do feel unjustified in being part of the community. People have suffered. Parents have cried or thrown their own children out of the house. I live in a liberal bubble and I know it, 100%. From my perspective, I was just all of a sudden bisexual. And nothing changed.

But back to the actual word. You know what my big problem is with the word? The "sexual" part. Because as soon as I say "bisexual," the person I've said it to isn't thinking about the person I'm in love with or my dating life...they're thinking about my sex life. Because I've put it in their head. To me, to come out as "gay" or "lesbian" tells me who you, as a person, will fall in love with. Who your heart gets drawn to. But bisexual? You hear that and immediately, you're thinking of me having sex with a guy and me having sex with a girl. You're thinking that I must have already done both. You're thinking that I'm a little slutty for it, even though my sexual partners number doesn't come close to double digits (well, depending what you count as sex, but no matter what, it's not double digits).

It's hard to come to terms with in my own head. I love my sexuality and I'm proud of it and who I am and who I love and who I have the capacity to love. But I hate telling people.

Regardless, Happy Pride Month to every single person in the community. You are beautiful. You are loved. And you are incredible. And thanks to all the allies too.

Go celebrate. Hug people. Love each other. And let me know if you come up with a better word than "bisexual." I'd love to hear it.

"You Think You're Better Than Me"

My disaster of an ex-boyfriend drilled into my head that I was constantly holding him to standards that were too high. I was expecting too much of him. I was the problem.

Now, to be fair, I was the one who thought my 21-year-old boyfriend should have a job...or a license...or be going to school and not just jerking off in the bedroom he had to share with his brother because--big surprise--he lived at home.

So, yeah, my standards were the problem.

I've inferred that my girlfriend's mom thinks that I think I'm better than they are. That their house wasn't good enough for me, back when my girlfriend was still living there. That their general lifestyle is beneath me somehow.

I've always let off an air of condescension, I think. I definitely don't mean to do it, and most of the time I don't feel above anyone or like my standards matter at all in the grand scheme of things.

But you know what? Sometimes I do.

When did having high standards become a bad thing?

I like having nice things (and by nice things, I mean basic living necessities that make me happy--good smelling shampoo, the toothpaste I prefer, some new underwear every once in a while). I enjoy feeling calm and respected and at peace. I work for the things I get--I work harder than I should for what little I get, but that's for next time--and if that's the way I live my life, why does it affect you?

Does the way I live make you feel like you're not meeting my standards? Or do you feel like you're not meeting yours? Because that's a you problem and I'm sick of having it projected onto me by people who are supposed to not do that.

The Things We Give Up

I've been thinking a lot lately about the things we give up. Nothing voluntary, not like, "I'm giving up carbs." More like, "I always wanted to be an aunt and now I'm giving that up," or "I always thought my life would end up with XYZ, so now I need to be okay with ABC instead."

I'm an only child. My only chance for aunt-hood would be to marry someone with siblings. Even then, though, it's not guaranteed, is it? When I was born, I had 1 aunt by blood, 2 by marriage, 1 by lengthy relationship that everyone assumed was leading to marriage, and 1 by family friendship (we all have that one aunt, right? The "My Aunt Mel...well, she's not really my aunt, she's just my mom's best friend" aunt).

Long story short, only one is really still there for me (the one by blood).

Anyway, I was in a terrible relationship for a few years, but I held onto the fact that I was dating a guy with a slightly younger brother. Surely he was my shot at being someone's aunt, right?!

In hindsight...Ew. No.

Many years (and quite a few therapy sessions) later, I'm in a wonderful relationship and the girl I'm now dating (yes, girl...that's probably a post for another day) has a sister! Perfect!

But there's a catch. (Isn't there always a catch?)

The sister is 7 years older than my girlfriend. Which means, she's already had her kids. A 15 year old boy, a 13 year old girl, and a 10 year old girl. I wasn't there for any of it. I missed the excitement of the births, I missed the milestones, and now they're mostly teenagers who don't know why there's a random woman coming to family functions with their aunt (the boy doesn't even know my name--I'm sure of it). The 10 year old adores me. But the other catch? She doesn't realize I'm dating her aunt. She asked me once if I had a husband. That was awkward.

So, if this relationship is leading to marriage (I have an engagement ring hidden in my jewelry box; I'm just waiting for the right moment), I've missed the chance to really be an aunt. And it's small in the grand scheme of things. It's a blip on the radar. People who get to do it don't even realize how incredible it looks to someone like me. But it's something I pined for. I thought my aunts hung the moon when I was a kid. I wanted to be that for someone else.

It's not enough to base a relationship on and it's certainly not enough to lose a great relationship over. So...I give it up. I get to watch my girlfriend (who's an amazing aunt, by the way--I think she hung the moon sometimes too when she's with those kids) be the aunt that I can't be. Even if I do get the title, when you're not there from the beginning...it's just not the same. I have a new aunt who came into the family a couple years ago. I forget about her having that title. That's going to be me.

We give things up as we grow up. And it's really hard to shift your worldview like that. I've had a few world-shifting moments in my life and I think I'm pretty adaptable to change, but this one thing is really sticking for me. I don't know how to just throw away something that I've longed for so deeply.

But I'm gonna figure it out.