“I enjoy penetration, therefore I am attracted to men.” It took me a long time to realize I could consider any response to this statement other than “yes.” I was raised to believe all humans, myself included, were inherently heterosexual. Male-female attraction was simply how I was created—to be anything else was a choice. I built my concept of self (in part) on absolute certainty of my life as a straight woman.

From this flowed the assumption that all my thoughts and feelings about sex, gender, and sexuality were normal heterosexual feelings. There could be nothing else.

Television, movies, media, and the society I lived in—along with the adults around me—taught and reinforced certain “heterosexual truths” that I never thought to question:

About Sex & Pleasure

– Sex was largely unfulfilling for women
– Women pay more attention to their looks and hygiene and are generally more attractive than men
– Women aren’t as interested in sex as men
– Orgasm is difficult for women to achieve (especially compared to men)
– Real sex means penetrative sex—everything else is merely foreplay or optional

About Attraction & Dating

– Wanting validation and attention from men because it boosts my confidence is the same as being sexually attracted to men
– Enjoying men’s company is the same as being sexually attracted to men
– Wanting the social status of having a boyfriend/fiancé/husband and participating in these social rites of passage means being sexually attracted to men
– Being uncomfortable with men’s touch or overt flirtation was a sign of being good/pure/chaste and living a God-centered life
– Focusing on education/career instead of dating meant having proper morals
– Physical arousal from touch is the same as being “turned on” and attracted to men
– Nervousness, anxiety, and “butterflies” equal sexual attraction to men
– Wanting children and family means being heterosexual

About Friendship

– Meeting a new woman and wanting to be best friends, doing everything together, getting excited about calls/texts, obsessing about our future friendship, scrutinizing my appearance and words in her presence—this was just how everyone had friendships
– Feeling devastated when a new female friend chose another woman’s company over mine, or crying for days if she ended our friendship, was normal for heterosexual women
– Wanting desperately to talk to certain women, getting tongue-tied around them, feeling foolish in their presence, then retreating to privately check their social media “just to see what they were up to”—this was standard heterosexual behavior
– Feeling that no man was good enough for my female friends (while never feeling this way about the men in my life)
– Avoiding locker rooms and spaces where women changed clothes because I fought the urge to look at their bodies—this was just modesty and politeness

And finally,

– Enjoying penetration during sex means you’re heterosexual and prefer sex with men

All these beliefs are part of what I later learned is called heteronormativity—the assumption and idealization of heterosexuality that runs so deep in culture that it becomes difficult to think about sex, sexuality, and gender without feeling shame for “choosing” something different from what you were taught.

You’re told you’re only gay if you choose to be gay—a simple yet convoluted logic. If you tend to dissociate and respond to stress by “going away” in your head, you can intellectualize most of your emotions and life. By disconnecting from all the “low and sinful” parts of life, you can get quite far before it all crashes down.

I easily assumed everything I experienced was normal for a heterosexual woman because that was my only framework for understanding the world. Shame around sex prevented me from discussing attraction, desire, pleasure, or sex with anyone. The topic remained completely off-limits. I had no way to learn anything different.

Only through extensive therapy and the internet—a private space on my personal devices—could I begin exploring these taboo topics openly, even if privately.

I struggled to distinguish between what I enjoy physically, who I want to share these experiences with, and what role I want in that dynamic.

Growing up, everything seemed simple: I am a girl, therefore… I will marry a man, have children, take on a submissive role in sex and life, dress appropriately, and enjoy activities suitable for a girl/woman/wife/mother.

Breaking away from that prescribed life began slowly: Do I like this shirt? Do I truly enjoy low-fat muffins? What movie do I actually want to watch?

I was 37 before it occurred to me that I could be gay. Once I gave myself permission to ask questions and genuinely explore what I wanted in life, a gradual and beautiful authentic expression began to unfold.

Was it easy? No. Was it worth it? Yes.

Now I know that I can absolutely enjoy penetration during sex and not want a man to be the one doing it. The difference in my pleasure, comfort, relaxation, capacity for joy and playfulness, my libido, and my ability to be a good partner has forever changed for the better.

What do you want? Who do you want it with? How do you know? Is it an intellectual knowing of what you should do, or is it a deep bodily knowing that extends from your truest self?

Or start with the muffin question. Turns out I HATE low-fat muffins. I didn’t like that shirt. I created my own Netflix watch list.

AND

I don’t like women, I love women.

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