I just want to tell somebody: I'm bisexual. I guess I'm

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I just want to tell somebody: I'm bisexual.

I guess I'm in the closet because I never felt the need to come out. "Coming out" as a baseline human being made no emotional or logical sense to me, since I assumed bisexual was the default state of being. I used to say things like that with definitive finality. "Oh come on, guys, everybody's bisexual." (I've evolved since then.)

I never dated guys in high school -- only girls. So was I really bisexual?

My Dad died not knowing. I have no interest in telling my mother.

And it's not that I'm ashamed, it's just that I ... don't like her. I don't have any interest in her hysterics over my inner, private self. She doesn't belong here. She's not invited. Fuck her. She wouldn't handle it well.

Is that being in the closet? Even now it feels completely strange to me, and incorrect, to apply that term to bisexuality.

My closest friend is a real jerk about my bisexuality. Which is surprising to me because she's bisexual herself. She says:

People who aren't bisexual pretending to be bisexual is "bisexual erasure" and it's a serious problem.

I guess she thinks she's the gatekeeper of who can and can't be bisexual.

I told her, "I'm thinking of forcing myself into a longterm relationship with a man, just so you'll believe me."

And she laughed and said, "That's about what it would take."

That hurt so bad.

I don't feel, and have never felt, like part of the LGBTQ community. That acronym feels like it applies to other people. People who struggle for something -- for acceptance in society, for equal rights. People who come together in community because of the straight world which has rejected them.

I haven't struggled. I feel like that's not my struggle. That's not my community.

I've never been in a room, or a house, with a lot of other LGBTQ people, bonding, laughing, drinking, dancing. Tied together by some intangible commonality that makes us know: we are the same.

But I'm bisexual anyway. Because I say so.