Elizabeth Barber

I was admittedly a serial monogamist throughout my entire dating life (like…. the whole thing.) I just love having a person. And before I entered law school at 23, I only dated/was interested in men, and I was fine with that. A lot of people describe feeling like something was missing in their relationships prior to coming out, but I never really felt that way—which is one of the reasons it was a surprise for me.

But when I met Amy in law school (cue: “We found love in a hopeless place”), I thought she was so, so cool. I had just transferred, and she immediately made an effort to introduce me to people. I noticed right away how she made everyone feel at ease. I was hooked on her energy, her confidence, her sense of humor. At first, I thought I just wanted to be her best friend ever. I would later realize that what I was describing was a big ol’ crush.

As things started to develop, I was excited, nervous, confused, and then some. The number of “Am I gay?” quizzes I took on the internet (because I thought that would help?) was astronomical. I’m a person who needs a definitive answer and a clearcut set of rules, so I wanted “ways to know” how I was feeling. Up until this point, I was comfortable with who I was and who I was attracted to, so I wasn’t sure how to process this. Plus, growing up in a small town and going to college in the Midwest, I didn’t exactly have a ton of queer friends to turn to. I felt a little lonely, because I just wanted to talk about this amazing person but simply did not know how to do that.

At the same time, I was completely obsessed (in a chill way, of course). I could not wait until the next time I saw Amy. And even as we both knew we were developing feelings for each other, she never once pressured me to make “A Decision” or rush my personal process. She made me feel safe and protected from the pressures of my own brain.

Eventually, I knew I needed to be open with my family and friends. For me, a “unique” aspect of deciding to share our relationship was that, by doing so, I was also making a statement about myself. But I was concerned people would focus on the wrong things, like: “So, is she a lesbian now? Has she always been? Is it ‘just Amy’ or ‘just a phase’? If they break up will she date men again?” I also spent a lot of time worrying that my friends would assume I’d had secret crushes on them (sorry babes, platonic vibes only), that people would think my past relationships were somehow fake, and/or that everyone would say I had been hiding my ~true identity~, when, really, I was only a few months ahead of everyone else in learning that I’m bisexual.

I really let the intensity and fear about coming out build up in my head. I thought I needed to have the perfect intro, explanation, background, context, etc. Finally, I decided to tell my best friend Rachel. I had been name dropping Amy to her for weeks, maybe months—meaning she had already started to see what was happening. I think she knew I was ready, so she asked me to get brunch. After our first few mimosas, I was ready to tell her, but still nervous. I think I said “Ok, so…” and my friend just said, “Oh, I know!” And we laughed and I cried a little bit because of the massive weight that was lifted off of my shoulders. And that was it, and it was everything. (And now I’m crying again!)

It was that moment that made me realize the people who really love me didn’t need me to have prepared remarks to tell them I was in love. Something I always hear is that we have to come out all the time, every day, in different ways, and that process is so much easier (at least, to the extent it can be made easier) with support like that.

So my best advice for anyone reading this is to remember that the journey with your sexuality is yours alone. There are always going to be a million perspectives and opinions, and it’s easy to get stuck feeling like you need to find the exact right “thing” for you. But it’s okay to not know the answers, and it’s okay to put the pieces of your identity together over time. (It’s okay to change those pieces if they aren’t quite right for you, too!) You are perfect and unique and on a journey that is all for you. And I’m rooting for you, so take a deep breath and know that it’s okay.