Growing up as a conservative evangelical Christian in the American South, it was drilled into me that homosexuality was a sin. My friends and I used to kneel together and pray that we would be kept pure and never be “turned gay”, so it doesn’t surprise me now that it took me until the end of college to feel comfortable enough to start exploring my bisexuality.
Senior year of college, I was dating a really great guy. We looked like your picture-perfect straight couple with eyes for only each other and had frequent, fun sex. But despite my great partner and the hours of homophobic prayers in my youth, I couldn’t stop thinking about having sex with women. I’d never done it, but it dominated my thoughts and fantasies every day for weeks. What would it be like to taste another woman’s pussy? To feel her tits in my hands? To be kissed by a girl?
At the height of all this questioning, my cousin’s wedding came around. She was raised with the same beliefs I was, but, unlike me, still clung to them. I packed my bridesmaid dress and heels, kissed my boyfriend goodbye, and went off to bear witness as she promised to submit to her new husband in all things till death do they part.