THE BISEXUAL STORY

I’ve always found bisexuality to be a bit like being half caste – blessed with multiple heritages whilst being cursed to never completely find home in any.

The biphobia in the LGBT community, though grounded in precedent, is very deafening. And the straights? Many straight people don’t even understand what it means to be Bi. To them, you’re just a gay man who sleeps with women.

If only it were that simple.

This however… This is a story about the straights!

Or is it? Let’s begin.

I fell in love with the love of my life in 2016. I had just ended things with my then-girlfriend and I had one of those “girls can go fuck themselves” vibes going on. So I opened my Facebook account and started chats with around 7 guys. The chats were mostly awful. People who would ask for roles in the first five sentences, who asked me if I was (something they called) ‘TB’, and who just generally made me think celibacy was probably the best way to go.

And then there was Chibuike. His Facebook profile identified him as a writer and it showed. He swept me off my feet with the first few exchanges. You know that heteronormative nonsense about it being women who like to hear nice words? It’s horse kaka. You needed to see me chuckling as he laid words on me like ice cream and sensually licked them off.

He had no picture on his profile, which added even more to the intrigue.

Damn! Man was good.

And so, I closed all the other tabs, even though I felt like I should have introduced them to each other so they could have that Tuberculosis conference they all kept asking about with repeated mentions of ‘TB’.

And I focused on this one man. I crushed hard, fell in love, asked him out three weeks later and he said yes. We then proceeded to have the most saccharine relationship I’d ever had – amazing sex, the cuddling all night, the breakfast in bed, the love letters in the morning, stealing kisses wherever we were, and that look when we were outside that always seemed to say, “When we get back home, I’m fuckin you.” I had met someone who I was ready to risk it all for. I was ready to leave this country, go far away from family, just so I could be with this man forever.

I mean, he would start love notes with “Day XXX”. Yes, we counted the days we were together. Then he’d move on to “Dear X”, and would proceed to tug at my heartstrings with the most beautiful words ever. I loved this man with everything in me.

And then life happened.

I got a job and had to move to another state for work. School kept him tied down. We didn’t see for ages at a time, my poor communication skills soured things further, and gradually, inevitably, we began to drift apart. Long distance has this way of lying to you that you love someone less. If you actually fall for that lie, it’s the beginning of the end.

And fall I did.

It wasn’t long before I met a lady (by accident, I swear) and things very quickly became very sexual. (Now, that was no accident. Do you know how much accuracy it would take to trip, slip and fall right inside her?)

There were feelings involved too, which wasn’t something I thought would happen at first. She was just someone I met one day and began to really vibe with the next.

She knew I was seeing someone. She knew it was long distance. She assumed it was a woman. I didn’t feel the need to correct her. I just avoided pronouns when talking about my partner.

And then finally, my boyfriend came to visit.

It’d been a long time coming and I was so happy. I’d actually missed him so bloody much. However, it seemed like he could tell that something was up, because that night, he went through my phone, saw texts between me and the lady friend and confronted me about it the following day.

You see, the gay man’s most common fear when it comes to dating a bisexual man comes from a belief that there’s a whole other group of preferences that they cannot satisfy. How do you compete with that?

And this confrontation was bloody. I watched him cry after he asked the question, “Do you have feelings for her?” and I replied, “Yes”. I felt my heart tear in two as the tears streamed down his face. No one does that to someone they love. No one makes them cry.

I resolved in my heart to end what I had with her, feelings or not.

Out of respect, I went to see her to end it, only for that to devolve into her crying into my arms as she asked me not to leave her. Man, I never felt more like the devil. “What have I done?” I asked myself repeatedly. Was this my legacy? Tears and heartache?

Well, it took a while, but I sorted out my feelings.

Long distance meant that things with my boyfriend were not improving. In fact, his discovery of my dalliance strained the relationship even more. So, I ended things with him and moved on to this lady who I was now madly in love with. She had the most amazing smile, the liveliest demeanor, everything.

She also thought I was straight. I wasn’t ready to have that discussion with her. I didn’t even know what to tell her.

Or maybe I thought she thought I was straight.

You see, occasionally, she would slip in a gay joke about me and my friends, slip in an “if you’re bi, I’m fine with it” statement randomly during a conversation – stuff like that. I refused to engage though. I maintained to myself that as long as I was faithful to her, my bisexuality wasn’t an issue that needed to be talked about.

One day though, things went up a notch.

You see, my ex-boyfriend had some of these best friends he’d introduced me to. One of them had told a friend of my girlfriend about a doctor named Meraxes who was working in so and so State, who was bisexual. It was supposed to be harmless conversation (although entirely unnecessary).

Well, as whatever Nollywood goddess directs fate would have it, like I said, the guy who was told this information was friends with my girlfriend. And one day, they were chatting about something, when my girlfriend mentioned that her boyfriend is named Meraxes and is a doctor working in so and so land.

This guy of course instantly remembered what he’d been told and blurted, “Are you serious? I was just told of a doctor bearing the same name who works in that same city…”

My brethren, village people are real. After Prosperity preachers, fear them.

So, my girlfriend came back home, sat me down for a “talk”, and asked me about the information she had just gotten. I wasn’t even fazed. I calmly told her that lots of people could have that name and we live in a fairly big town.

Then I changed the topic. But the ball had already been set rolling.

I consulted a friend who is bisexual and married about the issue and his advice was that I should tell her if I want to, knowing that she may find out for sure eventually on her own. He also told me that if I told her and we stayed together, this would mean that she could start looking at all my male relationships through the gaze of “Is he seeing this one behind my back”, and so, I needed to weigh the options and make the decision myself.

It took a week or so, but I resolved to do it. The question was how. I waited for the right opportunity until one day, when she cracked a Bi joke.

She expected me to laugh, like I usually did, but instead I said, “Yeah. I’m Bi.”

She stood, transfixed with shock and asked the question.

I said again, “Yeah. I’m Bi.”

Then the sweetest thing happened. She sat down beside me, held my hand and said, “I don’t care about your past. I only care that you’re here with me now. I can’t judge people for who they are. I love you. All of you.”

Somehow, something I had thought might be a confrontational moment turned into this sweet little thing. We hugged, kissed, had kick ass “coming out” sex, and all was right with the world, yeah?

Wrong!

Well, it actually was. She’s a wonderful person. However, after her phone got faulty, I gave her an old phone of mine, to help her stay online until she could fix hers.

Brethren, that was how this woman did not call me or pick my call for three days. I thought she might be dead, had her phone stolen or she’d seen something on my phone.

Well, I was right on one count.

When I couldn’t bear the silence any longer, I left work and traveled to see her. After evading the question of why she hadn’t picked my call for days, she confessed. “I went through your phone. I saw messages between you and that guy. The one that was your ex. So many messages. You guys were so in love. I felt somehow. How do I compete with that? I think it wasn’t so real until I read the messages. Is it bad that I feel jealous that you loved a guy like that? You don’t write me beautiful messages like that. Will you leave me for a guy?”

There were so many questions. Each had a weight of its own. I understood why she needed her space and had kept her distance.

And so, I began, “I loved Chibuike then, but I love you now. And that’s all that matters. You’re the one that makes me smile, the one I never get tired of cooking for, making breakfast in bed for. Every day, I come back bearing something I know you like because I love seeing that smile that says, ‘Thank you, I love you too.’ You’re my partner in crime, the one I want to call every day to tell just how my day went. I loved my ex but don’t let a few flowery words deceive you into thinking I love you any less.”

She smiled, like she does when she’s pleased, her big broad and beautiful smile beaming, hugged me and said, “Just don’t leave me for a guy sha. That’s the one that’ll make me kill you.”

So far, I’ve kept my end of the deal. She might not be the most perfect person in the world, but it’s not often that you strip yourself before another and they look at all of you, hug you and still tell you they love you.

Written by Meraxes