Note: name and other details have been changed to protect the privacy of those involved.

P.S. this is a bit...candid.

Alright, buckle down. This is a long one, but I feel like it’s something that needs to be said. It’s not like my coming out story or whatever, it’s just…a journal, of sorts. Not meant to help or hurt anyone, just meant to show the truth. And my truth is, I don't think there is a clear line between straight and gay, or even straight, bi, and gay. A lot of the time, there are little grey areas that people often forget still exist, and where a lot of people find themselves stuck. It's where I...find myself stuck.

I’ll start with the first, of course. This is back when I thought I was in a 100% straight, only-like-penis, never-gonna-touch-a-girl kinda thing... If one of my friends told me they were gay or bi that was totally cool, but I was never gonna go there. I didn’t have that kind of dilemma. So, when a cute guy said he liked me, I like many others, thought an emotional connection also meant a physical one. After I started thinking about my grocery list in bed, I think I figured out that maybe men weren’t all that after all. Not that I acted on this, of course. I let my curious thoughts drift to the back of my mind, and tried not to think about it too much.

There were more guys, more relationships, and not all of them were pretty. That’s okay, we all go through shit and we learn how to cope with it. Maybe I’m one of “those” girls that got turned off of guys because of how shitty they were. I didn’t think so, some of my best friends were all guys, and it wasn’t like I could help what turned me on. It was annoying, to say the least. I didn’t consider myself straight, but I didn’t tell anyone and I didn’t think about it too hard because there were way more important things to deal with. At least, I thought they were more important at the time.

Flash forward to college, where I continued to debate whether I liked girls or guys or both. I had this roommate [she who must not be named] and one night in the dorms, she told our whole friend group that she'd slept with her friend Izzy while she was drunk once. I was shocked and I totally freaked out on the inside for no reason. I guess I don't know, this sounds really bad, but I just had never thought about it being so casual like that. Where I grew up, you knew the girls who were gay because they all looked the same and hung out together. It was a classic, stereotype world. My roommate had seemed like me, in a way. And I guess that pushed the thoughts to the front of my mind. That roommate turned out not to like me very much, and we parted angrily in the end. I debated on transferring--and by debate, I mean I wrote out and sent applications to schools back home--but, something told me to stay. I don't know, there was something else.

By the time spring semester of my freshman year came around, I was finally starting to like where I was at. I’d just gotten out of a relationship, I was in a sorority, and I was finally starting to settle in Boulder. This one friend of mine, Samantha, was making plans with me all the time and I didn’t think anything of it. I mean, it’s really different with girls. It’s a joke that best friends get confused for gay couples for a reason.

We’re close!

We laugh, we hug each other, we kiss each other on New Year’s Eve and no one thinks anything of it! Because we’re girls, and girls can do that sometimes without it being considered “out-of-the-ordinary.” Anyway, she invited me over to her apartment to smoke and chill like we had a million times before. I went over, like normal. I can’t even remember what I was wearing. But, I do remember Samantha standing there while I sat on the bed, and I knew something was different.

I felt totally different around her. Yeah, it was probably lust in a full-blown attack of sexual frustration. I didn’t act on it; I needed to think about it and confirm it. I was an anxious thing, and I hated change. Especially when it meant changing who I thought I was.

But, Samantha had confirmed it for me, and it wasn’t something I wanted to keep ignoring. I had been attracted to guys in the past, so the fact that I was also attracted to Samantha meant that I was bi. You liked both sexes, you liked everyone. I thought I liked both. I told my family—my mom’s side, anyway. They were fine, I mean, my uncle’s partner gave me a big smile, so that was nice.

That next fall, I went back to school and jumped full-on into Greek life. I didn’t live in the house, but I basically did. I was there any time in the afternoon until the very early hours of the morning. My poor cat was super lonely, and I felt bad, but I lived alone and sleep isn’t too friendly when the other half of your bed is cold.

I went out for pizza one night and definitely made a fool out of myself in front of the register girl, Lauren. But it was all fine because she had pizza sauce on her face and we both laughed about it. After that, though, I didn’t think anything of her, actually, until I saw her sitting in the front row of my Sociology class. I recognized her, and she recognized me, but neither of us could remember where we'd met. Since we had never had a class together before and had no recollection of where we could have met. Then, I remembered the pizza sauce, and we had this grand old’ moment where we both remembered and it was pretty cute. She was pretty cute.

I decided it was time to grow some balls, and I will deny this to the grave—I even asked a friend for help. I had never been in the position where I had to be the one chasing and lemme tell you, it is interesting. It’s all timed, like an experiment. You have to plan when to say something sweet, when to say something vulnerable, when to say something provocative, etc. It’s all a series of planned reactions and instigated moments. I guess that’s kind of taking the fun out of it because it really is fun, but it definitely is different than just waiting for the feelings to come to you.

I guess this is the part when I tell you I slept with her. I’m not gonna get graphic, don’t worry, but it made me believe that I was right about myself all along. It started with drinks, we were hanging out as friends, of course. You couldn’t tell them it was a date, otherwise, they get scared. It was all a part of the game. I wasn’t too drunk, and I didn’t think she really was, either. Before I seriously comprehended what I was doing, I was kissing her. I had my doubts; I wanted to make sure that it was right. I needed to know that if I let myself go off the edge like that, then I wouldn’t be alone when I hit the ground. I didn’t think I would be, so I fell.

There’s this painting on my wall—I can’t say for sure when I did it, but it had to have been after everything was done. There’s a branch for each of the seasons. Summer: a pair of birds shoulder to shoulder, Fall: one bird standing alone, while the other stands just off to the side, Winter: a single bird, sitting on the branch alone, Spring: that little bird still rests on the branch, only this time, the other bird peeks in, just for a moment, letting you know that she’s still there. That’s what it was like for me; finding who I was supposed to be, who I was supposed to be with, and watching it slip through my fingers just enough to think I'd lost, before it stops and looks back at me with a smirk, as if to ask, is that all you got?

I moved on after that realization, but I was in full pursuit. I wanted to find a girl, and I wanted to find one fast. Of course, this one-track mindset backfired quickly when I hooked up with a friend—a guy. He had asked me to go to the zoo with a group of his friends, but I had to work the next night and couldn’t go. Instead of leaving the situation as it was, I let him run his hands over my legs and I said yes when he asked if he could kiss me. I didn’t mind it, but there was a part of me that wasn’t satisfied. I was enjoying myself, but it didn’t feel right. It felt like I was going against who I said I was. I didn’t stay very long after that, and when he asked me if I would be with him I politely declined, waiting for something that I figured was supposed to happen.

I couldn’t stop thinking about women. I was a machine, searching every party just a little bit longer than necessary. One night, I found one. I took her home with me and I...got it out of my system. At the same time…I couldn’t help wishing that she would do something else, be someone else. I definitely felt comfortable with her as a woman, the kind of person I was attracted to, but even if my body was enjoying itself, my head was telling me that it wasn’t right. I drove Anna, the girl from the party, home early the next day, and I retreated.

I thought, what’s going on with me? I knew I was attracted to women—that was easy enough to figure out—but even when I was with one, it wasn’t enough. I guess you could say that I’m trying to figure it out. I mean, I knew I was into girls, that much was clear, and I’d already mentioned that I was bi, however, I felt like the there was no guy in my future ever again. I called myself bi because I wanted to have sex with women, but I always envisioned myself married to a man. Now, I only want a wife that I can laugh with and that I can make happy. As far as I was concerned, I wanted nothing to do with men ever again.

I guess you could say I’ve improved. My friends ask sometimes, what who I'm into, but I just say that I like who I like. I don’t know if I only want to be with women for the rest of my life, but I know that I do not want to limit myself to men. So, I like who I like. There’s no black and white boxes, no straight or gay line. It’s called a spectrum for a reason, and I would put myself in the center of the grey area. You don’t need to just be one kind of person; one thing. You can be in the grey area, like me, and just not decide. I told you sometimes people get stuck, but I think it's more of a place. Everybody has a place. Follow how you feel, not how others think you should feel—remember that.